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SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
1609
FACSIMILE
LONDON
HENRY FROWDE, M.A.
PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY
OF OXFORD
7<$
*
SHAKESPEARES
SONNETS
BEING A REPRODUCTION IN FACSIMILE OF
THE FIRST EDITION
1609
FROM THE COPY IN THE MALONE COLLECTION IN THE
BODLEIAN LIBRARY
WITH INTRODUCTION AND BIBLIOGRAPHY
BY
SIDNEY LEE
ox
OXFORD : AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
MDCCCCV
*2E5e®*
'Vr(
d i
GIFT OB
OXFORD
PHOTOGRAPHS AND LETTERPRESS
BY HORACE HART, M.A.
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION TO SONNETS—
I. General Characteristics ...
II. Relation of Sonnets to the Early Plays
III. The History of the Publication
IV. The State of the Text
V. Early Manuscript Copies and Reprints
VI. A Census of Copies
Illustrative Title-Page —
The John Wright imprint of i6op
FACSIMILE OF THE EDITION OF 1609
PAGE
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Though Shakespeare's sonnets are unequal in literary General
merit, many reach levels of lyric melody and meditative energy <^fJ3'"a<^te"s-
which are not to be matched elsewhere in poetry. Numerous
lines like
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy
or
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
seem to illustrate the perfection of human utterance. If
a few of the poems sink into inanity beneath the burden of
quibbles and conceits, others are almost overcharged with the
mellowed sweetness of rhythm and metre, the depth of thought
and feeling, the vividness of imagery, and the stimulating
fervour of expression which are the finest fruits of poetic
power. ^
' This preface mainly deals with the bibliographical history of the sonnets,
and the problems involved in the circumstances of their publication. In
regard to the general significance of the poems — their bearing on Shake-
speare's biography and character or their relations to the massive sonnet
literature of the day, at home and abroad — 1 only offer here a few remarks and
illustrations supplementary to what I have already written on these subjects
in my Ufe of Shakespeare, fifth edition, ipo^, or in the Introduction to the
Elizabethan Sonnets, 1^04 (Constable's reissue of Arber's English Garnerj.
The abundant criticism which has been lavished on my already published
comments has not modified my faith in the justice of my general position
or in the fruitfulness of my general line of investigation. My friend Canon
Beeching has, in reply to my strictures, ably restated the « autobiographic'
or 'literal' theory in his recent edition of the sonnets (1904), but it seems
to me that he attaches insufficient weight to Shakespeare's habit of mind
elsewhere, and to the customs and conventions of contemporary literature,
especially to those which nearly touch the relations commonly subsisting
among Elizabethan authors, patrons, and publishers. Canon Beeching's
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
The inter-
pretation.
Shake-
speare's
dramatic
habit of
mind.
The sonnets, which number 15-4, are not altogether of
homogeneous character. Several are detached lyrics of im-
personal applicarion. But the majority of them are addressed
to a man, while more than twenty towards the end are
addressed to s. woman.' In spite of the vagueness of inten-
tion which envelops some of the poems, and the slenderness
of the links which bind together many consecutive sonnets,
the whole collection is well calculated to create the illusion
of a series of earnest personal confessions. The collection
has consequently been often treated as a self-evident excerpt
from the poet's autobiography.
In the bulk of the sonnets the writer professes to
describe his infatuation with a beautiful youth and his
wrath with a disdainful mistress, who alienates the boy's affec-
tion and draws him into dissolute courses. But any strictly
literal or autobiographic interpretation has to meet a for-
midable array of difficulties. Two general objections present
themselves on the threshold of the discussion. In the first
place, the autobiographic interpretation is to a large extent in
conflict with the habit of mind and method of work which
are disclosed in the rest of Shakespeare's achievement. In
the second place, it credits the poet with humiliating
experiences of which there is no hint elsewhere.
On the first point, little more needs saying than that
Shakespeare's mind was dominated and engrossed by genius
for drama, and that, in view of his supreme mastery of dramatic
comments on textual or critical points, which lie outside the scope of the
controversy, seem to me acute and admirable.
* It is not clear from the text whether all the sonnets addressed to a man
are inscribed to the same person. Mingled, too, with those addressed to
a man, are a few which offer no internal evidence whereby the sex of the
addressee can be determined, and, when detached from their environment,
were invariably judged by seventeenth and eighteenth-century readers to
be addressed to a woman.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 9
power, the likelihood that any production of his pen should
embody a genuine piece of autobiography is on a priori
grounds small. Robert Browning, no mean psychologist, went
as far as to assert that Shakespeare < ne'er so little ' at any
point of his work left his < bosom's gate ajar ', and declared
him incapable of unlocking his heart < with a sonnet-key'.
That the energetic fervour which animates many of Shake-
speare's sonnets should bear the living semblance of private
ecstasy or anguish, is no confutation of Browning's view.
No critic of insight has denied all tie of kinship between the
fervour of the sonnets and the passion which is portrayed in
the tragedies. The passion of the tragedies is invariably the
dramatic or objective expression, in the vividest terms, of
emotional experience, which, however common in human annals,
is remote from the dramatist's own interest or circumstance.
Even his two narrative poems, as Coleridge pointed out,
betray ' the utter aloofness of the poet's own feelings from
those of which he is at once the painter and the analyst'.
Certainly the intense passion of the tragedies is never the
mere literal presentment of the author's personal or sub-
jective emotional experience, nor does it draw sustenance
from episodes in his immediate environment. The personal
note in the sonnets may well owe much to that dramatic
instinct which could reproduce intuitively the subtlest thought
and feeling of which man's mind is capable.
The particular course and effect of the emotion, which
Shakespeare portrayed in drama, were usually suggested or
prescribed by some story in an historic chronicle or work
of fiction. The detailed scheme of the sonnets seems to
stand on something of the same footing as the plots of
his plays. The sonnets weave together and develop with
the finest poetic and dramatic sensibility themes which
lo SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
had already served, with inferior effect, the purposes of
poetry many times before. The material for the subject-
matter and the suggestion of the irregular emotion of the
sonnets lay at Shakespeare's command in much literature by
other pens. The obligation to draw on his personal experi-
ences for his theme or its development was little greater
in his sonnets than in his dramas. Hundreds of sonneteers
had celebrated, in the language of love, the charms of young
men — mainly by way of acknowledging their patronage in
accordance with a convention which was peculiar to the
period of the Renaissance. Thousands of poets had described
their sufferings at the hands of imperious beauty. Others
had found food for poetry in stories of mental conflict
caused by a mistress's infidelity or a friend's coolness.' The
spur of example never failed to incite Shakespeare's dramatic
muse to activity, and at no period of literary history was
the presentation of amorous adventures more often essayed
in sonnets than by Shakespeare's poetic contemporaries at
home and abroad during the last decade of the sixteenth
century. It goes without saying that Shakespeare had his
own experience of the emotions incident to love and friend-
ship or that that experience added point and colour to his
verse. But his dramatic genius absolved him of the need
' The conflicts between the claims of friend and mistress on the affec-
tions, and the griefs incident to the transfer of a mistress's attentions to
a friend — recondite topics which are treated in Shakespeare's sonnets — seem
no uncommon themes of Renaissance poetry. Clement Marot, whose work
was very familiar to Spenser and other Elizabethan writers, in complicated
verse headed ' A celle qui souhaita Marot aussi amoureux d'elle qu'un
sien Amy' {CEuvres^ iT^^T?? P« 437)j describes himself in a situation resembling
that which Shakespeare assigns to the ' friend ' of his sonnets. Being solicited
in love by his comrade's mistress, Marot warns her of the crime against
friendship to which she prompts him, and, less complacent than Shakespeare's
* friend ', rejects her invitation on the ground that he has only half a heart
to offer her, the other half being absorbed by friendship.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE ii
of seeking his cue there exclusively. It was not in his nature
(to paraphrase Browning again) to write merely for the purpose
of airing his private woes and perplexities.
Shakespeare acknowledged in his plays that «the truest
poetry is the most feigning '. The exclusive embodiment in
verse of mere private introspection was barely known to his
era, and in these words the dramatist paid an explicit tribute
to the potency in poetic literature of artistic impulse and
control contrasted with the impotency of personal sensation,
which is scarcely capable of discipline. To £qw of the sonnets
can a controlling artistic impulse be denied by criticism.
The best of them rank with the richest and most concentrated
efforts of Shakespeare's pen. To pronounce them, alone of
his extant work, free of that 'feigning', which he identified with
<the truest poetry', is tantamount to denying his authorship of
them, and to dismissing them from the Shakespearean canon.
The second general objection which is raised by the The alleged
theory of the sonnets' autobiographic significance can be stated [Je'^^nets.
very briefly. A literal interpretation of the poems credits the
poet with a moral instability which is at variance with the
tone of all the rest of his work, and is rendered barely
admissible by his contemporary reputation for 'honesty'. Of
the 'pangs of despised love' for a woman, which he professes
to sufter in the sonnets, nothing need be said in this connexion.
But a purely literal interpretation of the impassioned pro-
testations of affection for a ' lovely boy', which course through
the sonnets, casts a slur on the dignity of the poet's name
which scarcely bears discussion. Of friendship of the
healthy manly type, not his plays alone, but the records of
his biography, give fine and touching examples. All his
dramatic writing, as well as his two narrative poems and the
testimonies of his intimate associates in life, seems to prove
B 2
12
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
The com-
parative
study of
sonnet
literature.
him incapable of such a personal confession of morbid
infatuation with a youth, as a literal interpretation discovers
in the sonnets.
It is in the light not merely of aesthetic appreciation but
of contemporary literary history that Shakespeare's sonnets
must be studied, if one hopes to reach any conclusions as to
their precise significance which are entitled to confidence.
No critic of his sonnets is justified in ignoring the con-
temporary literary influences to which Shakespeare, in spite
of his commanding genius, was subject throughout his extant
work. It is well to bear in mind that Elizabethan sonneteers,
whose number was legion, habitually levied heavy debts not
only on the great masters of this form of verse in Italy
and France, who invented or developed it, but on con-
temporary foreign practitioners of ephemeral reputation. Nor
should it be forgotten that the Elizabethan reading public
repeatedly acknowledged a vein of artificiality in this natural-
ized instrument of English poetry, and pointed out its cloying
tendency to fantastic exaggeration of simulated passion.'
Of chief importance is it to realize that the whole vocabu-
ofbve^"^^^ lary of afi^ection — the commonest terms of endearment — often
carried with them in Renaissance or Elizabethan poetry, and
especially in Renaissance and Elizabethan sonnets, a poetic
value that is wholly different from any that they bear to-day.
The example of Tasso, the chief representative of the Renais-
sance on the continent of Europe in Shakespeare's day, shows
with singular lucidity how the language of love was suffered
deliberately to clothe the conventional relations of poet to
^ Impatience was constantly expressed with the literary habit of ' Oiling
a saint with supple sonneting ', which was held to be of the essence of the
Elizabethan sonnet (cf. J. D.'s EpgrammeSy 15- 5)8, Sonnet II at end, headed
'Ignoto', and the other illustrations of contemporary criticism of sonnets in
my Life of Shakesi:eare^ pp. iii-iz).
Tasso and
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 13
a helpful patron. Tasso not merely recorded in sonnets an
apparently amorous devotion for his patron, the Duke of
Ferrara, which is only intelligible in its historical environ-
ment, but he also carefully describes in prose the precise
sentiments which, with a view to retaining the ducal favour,
he sedulously cultivated and poetized. In a long prose letter
to a later friend and patron, the Duke of Urbino, he wrote
of his attitude of mind to his first patron thus ' : < I confided
in him, not as we hope in men, but as we trust in God. . . .
It appeared to me, so long as I was under his protection,
fortune and death had no power over me. Burning thus with
devotion to my lord, as much as man ever did with love to
his mistress, I became, without perceiving it, almost an idolater.
I continued in Rome and in Ferrara many days and months
in the same attachment and faith.' With illuminating frank-
ness Tasso added : ' I went so far with a thousand acts of ob-
servance, respect, affection, and almost adoration, that at last,
as they say the courser grows slow by too much spurring, so
his [i.e. the patron's] goodwill towards me slackened, because
I sought it too ardently.' There is practical identity between
the alternations of feeling which find touching voice in many of
the sonnets of Shakespeare and those which colour Tasso's con-
fession of his intercourse with his Duke of Ferrara. Both
poets profess for a man a lover-like idolatry. Both attest the
hopes and fears, which his favour evokes in them, with
a fervour and intensity of emotion which it was only in the
power of great poets to feign.
That the language of love was in common use in Eliza- Poetic
bethan England among poets in their intercourse with those onovTfm"
who appreciated and encouraged their literary genius, is con- Queen
vincingly illustrated by the mass of verse which was addressed
^ Tasso, Opere, Pisa, 182 1-31, vol. xiii, p. z^%.
14 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
to the greatest of all patrons of Elizabethan poetry — the
Queen. The poets who sought her favour not merely com-
mended the beauty of her mind and body with the semblance
of amorous ecstasy ; they carried their professions of < love '
to the extreme limits of realism. They seasoned their notes
of adoration with reproaches of inconstancy and infidelity,
which they couched in the peculiarly intimate vocabulary that
is characteristic of genuinely thwarted passion.
Sir Walter Sir Walter Raleigh offers especially vivid evidence of the
Raleigh. assuraucc with which the poetic client offered his patron the
homage of varied manifestations of amoristic sentiment. He
celebrated his devotion to the Queen in a poem, called
Cynthia^ consisting of twenty-one books, of which only the
last survives.' The tone of such portion as is extant is that
of ecstatic love which is incapable of restraint. At one point
the poet reflects
[How] that the eyes of ?ny mind held her beams
In every part transferred by love'^s swift thought ^
Far off or near, i?i waking or in dreams
Imagination strong their lustre brought.
Such force her angelic appearance had
To master distance^ time or cruelty.
Raleigh's simulated passion rendered him
intentive, wakeful^ and dismayed,
In fears, in dreams^ in feverous jealousy.^
' The date of Raleigh's composition is uncertain; most of the poem was
probably composed about i5'94. ' Cynthia' is the name commonly given the
Queen by her poetic admirers. Spenser, Barnfield, and numerous other poets
accepted the convention.
^ With some of the italicized words, passages in Shakespeare's sonnets
may be compared, e. g. : —
XXVII. 9-10. . . . my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view.
XLiii. ii-iz. When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 15-
Thc obsequious dependant and professional suitor declares
himself to be a sleepless lover, sleepless because of the cruelty
XLiv. 1-z. If the dull substance of my flesh were thought.
Injurious distance should not stop my way.
LXi. i-i. Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Similarly Spenser wrote of Queen Elizabeth in i^c^i in his Co/in Clouts come
hojne aga'me with a warmth that must mislead any reader who closes his cars
and eyes to the current conventions of amorous expression. Here are some
of his assurances of regard (11. 4,72-80) ; —
To her my thoughts I daily dedicate.
To her my heart I nightly martyrize:
To her my love I lowly do prostrate,
To her my life 1 wholly sacrifice :
My thought, my heart, my love, my life is she.
And I hers ever only, ever one :
One ever I all vowed hers to be.
One ever I and others never none.
As in Raleigh's case, Spenser draws attention to his sufferings as his patron's
lover by night as well as by day. To take a third of a hundred instances
that could be adduced of the impassioned vein of poetic addresses to Queen
Elizabeth, Richard Barnfield wrote a volume of poems called (like Raleigh's
poem) Cynthia, in honour of his sovereign (published in 1595"). In a prefatory
address he calls the Queen ' his mistress '. Much high-strung panegyric
follows, and he reaches his climax of adoring affection in a brief ode
attached to the main poem. There he describes how, after other adventures
in the fields of love, 'Eliza' has finally written her name on his heart 'in
characters of crimson blood '. Her fair eyes have inflicted on him a fatal
wound. The common note of familiarity in a poet's addresses to patrons is
well illustrated by the fluency of style in which Barnfield professes his affection
for the Queen ; — ,, .^ . . , _
^^ Her it is, for whom 1 mourne;
Her, for whom my life I scorne ;
Her, for whom 1 weepe all day •
Her, for whom I sigh, and say.
Either She, or els no creature.
Shall enioy my loue : whose feature
Though I neuer can obtaine,
Yet shall my true loue remaine :
Till (my body turned to clay)
My poore soule must passe away,
To the heauens; where (I hope)
Hit shall finde a resting scope :
Then since I loued thee (alone)
Remember me when 1 am gone.
Id SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
of his mistress in refusing him her old favours. In vain he
tries to blot out of his mind the joys of her past kindness
and to abandon the hopeless pursuit of her affection. He is
< a man distract ', who, striving and raging in vain to free
himself from strong chains of love, merely suffers < change of
passion from woe to wrath '. The illusion of genuine passion
could hardly be produced with better effect than in lines like
these : —
The thoughts of past times, like flafnes of hell^
Kindled afresh within my memory
The many dear achievements that befell
In those prime years and infancy of love.
It was in the vein of Raleigh's addresses to the Queen
that Elizabethan poets habitually sought, not her countenance
only, but that of her noble courtiers. Great lords and great
ladies alike — the difference of sex was disregarded — were
repeatedly assured by poetic clients that their mental
and physical charms excited in them the passion of love.
Protestations of affection, familiarly phrased, were clearly
encouraged in their poetic clients by noble patrons.' Nashe,
a typical Elizabethan, who was thoroughly impregnated
with the spirit and temper of the times, bore (in if 95*)
unqualified witness to the poetic practice when he wrote of
Gabriel Harvey, who religiously observed all current con-
ventions in his relations with patrons : —
Harvey's * I hauc pcruscd vcarscs of his, written vnder his owne
love-poems hand to Sir Philip Sidney^ wherein he courted him as he were
Sidney ^ '^ another Cyparissus or Ganimede ; the last Gordian true loues
knot or knitting up of them is this : —
' The two sonnets which accompanied Nashe's gift to the young Earl of
Southampton of an obscene poem called The choosing of Valentines^ sufficiently
indicate the tone of intimacy which often infected ' the dedicated words which
writers used ' when they were seeking or acknowledging patrons' favours.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 17
Sum iecur, ex quo tc piimum, Sydneie, vidi j
Os oculosque regit, cogit amare iecur.
All liver am /, Sidney, since I saw thecj
My mouth, eyes, rule it and to loue doth draw mee.'
AH the verse, which Elizabethan poets conventionally
affirmed to be fired by an amorous infatuation with patrons,
was liable to the like biting sarcasm from the scoffer.^ But
no satiric censure seemed capable of stemming the tide of
passionate adulation, in what Shakespeare himself called
<the liver vein', which in his lifetime flowed about the
patrons of Elizabethan poetry. Until comparatively late in
the seventeenth century there was ample justification for
Sir Philip Sidney's warning of the flattery that awaited those
who patronized poets and poetry : 'Thus doing you shall be
[hailed as] most fair, most rich, most wise, most all- thus
doing, you shall dwell upon superlatives; thus doing, your
soul shall be placed with Dante's Beatrice.' There can be
little doubt that Shakespeare, always prone to follow the
contemporary fashion, yielded to the prevailing tendency and
penned many sonnets in that < liver vein ' which was especially
calculated to fascinate the ear of his literature-loving and
self-indulgent patron, the Earl of Southampton. The illusion""
of passion which colours his verse was beyond the scope of other
contemporary 'idolaters' of patrons, because it was a manifesta-
tion of his superlative and ever-active dramatic power.
' < Have with you to Saffron- Walden ' (O 3 verso), in Nashe's Works^ ed.
McKerrow, vol. iii, p. pi.
^ On the conventional sonnet of adoration Shakespeare himself passed
derisively the same sort of reflection as Nashe when, in love's Labour's Lost
(iv. 3. 74. scq.), he bestows on a love-sonnet the comment : —
This is the liver vein^ which makes flesh a deity,
A green goose a goddess; pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend ! we are much out of the way.
C
1 8 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
II
Date of the It is not known for certain when Shakespeare's sonnets
sonnets. y^Q^c written. They were probably produced at various
dates, but such external evidence as is accessible assigns
the majority of them to a comparatively early period of
Shakespeare's career, to a period antecedent to ifpS. In-
ternal evidence is on this point very strongly corroborative
of the external testimony. The language and imagery of
the sonnets closely connects them with the work which is
positively known to have occupied Shakespeare before if 95"
or 1 5-9 (J. The passages and expressions which are nearly
matched in plays of a later period are not unimportant, but
they are inferior in number to those which find a parallel
in the narrative poems of 1^9^ and i5"94, or in the plays
of similar date. Again, only a few of the parallels in the
later work are so close in phrase or sentiment as those in
the earlier work.'
The plea for Two leading themes of the sonnets are very closely
marriage. associated with Shakespeare's poem of Fenus and Adonis and
the plays that were composed about the same date. The
first seventeen poems, in which the poet urges a beautiful
youth to marry, and to bequeath his beauty to posterity,
repeat with somewhat greater exuberance, but with no
variation of sentiment, the plea that Venus thrice fervently
^ Almost every play of Shakespeare offers some parallels to expressions
in the sonnets. Canon Beeching (pp. xxv-xxvii) has collected several (which
are of great interest) from Henry IV and Hamlet ^ but they are not numerous
enough to justify any very large conclusion. It does not seem to have been
noticed that the words 'Quietus ' {Hamlet^ iii. i. 75*, and Sonnet CXXVI. ii)
and ' My prophetic soul ' {Hamlet^ i. 5". 40, and Sonnet CVII. i) come in Hamlet
and the sonnets, and nowhere else. The sonnets in which they occur may be
of comparatively late date, but the evidence is not conclusive in itself.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 19
urges on Adonis in Shakespeare's poem (cf. 11. 129-32,
1(^2-74, 17 y 1-6^). The plea is again developed by Shake-
speare in T{omeo and Juliet^ i. i. 218-28. Elsewhere he only-
makes slight and passing allusion to it — viz. in JU's Welly
i. I. 135, and in Twelfth Nighty i. f. 273-7. The bare
treatment, which the subject receives in these comparatively
late plays, notably contrasts with the fullness of exposition
in the earlier passages.'
An almost equally prominent theme of Shakespeare's The
sonnets — the power of verse to <• eternize ' the person whom f^^uJ^^^of
it commemorated — likewise suggests early composition. The verse,
conceit is of classical origin, and is of constant recurrence
in Renaissance poetry throughout Western Europe. The
French poet, Ronsard, never tired of repeating it in the
odes and sonnets which he addressed to his patrons, and
Spenser, Daniel, and Drayton, among Elizabethan poets,
emulated his example with energy. Shakespeare presents
the theme in much the same fashion as his English con-
temporaries, and borrows an occasional phrase from poems
by them, which were in print before 1^9^- But the first
impulse to adopt the proud boast seems to have come from
his youthful study of Ovid. Of all Latin poets, Ovid gave
the pretension most frequent and most frank expression.
Sonnet LV, where Shakespeare handles the conceit with
' Nothing was commoner in Renaissance literature than for a literary
client to urge on a patron the duty of transmitting to future ages his charms
and attainments. The plea is versified in Sir Philip Sidncy^s Arcadia (bk. iii)
in the addresses of the old dependant Geron to his master Prince Histor, and
in Guarini's Fastor Fido (1585) in the addresses of the old dependant Linco to
his master the hero Silvio. Chapman dwells on the theme in an address to
his patron the Duke of Lennox, in his translation of Homer's Iliad (of which
the publication began in i')^'^) : —
None ever lived by self-love; others' good
Is th' object of our own. They living die
That bury in themselves their fortunes' brood.
C 2
2 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
gorgeous effect, assimilates several lines from the exultant
outburst at the close of Ovid's Metamorphoses. To that book,
which Shakespeare often consulted, he had especial recourse
when writing Fenus and Adonis. Moreover, a second work
of Ovid was also at Shakespeare's hand, when his first
narrative poem was in process of composition. The Latin
couplet, which Shakespeare quoted on the title-page of Venus
and Adonis^ comes from that one of Ovid's Am ores (or
* Elegies of Love') in which the Latin poet with fiery
vehemence expatiates on the eternizing faculty of verse.'
Ovid's vaunt in his 'Elegies' had clearly caught Shakespeare's
eye when he was engaged on Feniis and Adonis^ and the
impression seems to be freshly reflected in Shakespeare's
treatment of the topic through the sonnets."^
The sonnets No internal evidence as to the chronological relations
xliotr^x' ^^ ^^^ compositions from the same poet's pen is open to
Lost. less dispute than that which is drawn from the tone and
texture of the imagery and phraseology. The imagery and
^ To the many instances I have adduced of the handling of this topic by
Spenser and other Elizabethan poets, may be added this stanza from Roydon's
Ele^e on Sir Philip Sidney, where he refers to the sonnets which Sidney,
in the name of Astrophel, addressed to Lady Rich, in the name of Stella : —
Then Astrophill hath honour'd thee [i.e. Stella];
For when thy body is extinct.
Thy graces shall cternall be,
And live by vertue of his inkej
For by his verses he doth give
To short-livde beautie aye to live.
^ Cf. Mortalc est, quod quaeris, opus; mihi fama perennis
Quaeritur, in toto semper ut orbe canar.
(Ovid's ' Amores', i. xv. 7-8.}
The Vejtus and Adonis motto is immediately preceded in Ovid's ' Amores '
(i. XV. %')-(>) by these lines: —
Ergo cum silices, cum dens patientis aratri,
Depereant aevo, carmina morte carent.
Cedant carminibus reges regumque triumphi,
Cedat et auriferi ripa benigna Tagi. (31-4.)
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 21
phraseology of great poets suffer constant flow. Their stores
are continually replenished in the course of their careers.
Whenever, therefore, any really substantial part of the
imagery and phraseology in two or more works is of
identical tone and texture, no doubt seems permissible that
they belong to the same epoch in the poet's career. Appli-
cation of these principles to Shakespeare's sonnets can lead to
no other result than that the bulk of them are of the same
date as the earliest plays.
Probably Shakespeare's earliest comedy. Lovers Labour 'j-
Lost^ offers a longer list of parallels to the phraseology and
imagery of the sonnets than any other of his works/ The
details in the resemblance — the drift of style and thought —
confirm the conclusion that most of the sonnets belong to
the same period of the poet's life as the comedy. Longa-
ville's regular sonnet in the play (iv. 3. 60-7-^) closely
catches the tone that is familiar to readers of Shakespeare's
great collection. Like thirty-four of Shakespeare's collected
quatorzains, it begins with the rhetorical question : —
Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the v/orld cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
But apart from syntactical or metrical forms, the
imagery in Lovers Labour'* s Lost is often almost identical
with that of the sonnets.
The lyric image of sun-worship in Sonnet VII. 1-4 : —
Lo, in the Orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
^ Cf. Mr. C. F. McClumpha's papers on the relation of the sonnets (i)
with Loi'e's Labour's Lost^ and (i) with Romeo and Juliet^ respectively, in
Modern Language Notes^ vol. xv, No. 6", June, icjoo, pp. 337-4-6^, and in
Shakespeare-Jahrbuchy xl. pp. 187 seq. (Weimar, 15)04).
22
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
DotJy homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty^
reappears in heightened colour in Biron's speech in Lovers
Labour^s Lost (iv. 3. 221-8): —
Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,
That like a rude and savage man of Inde,
At the first opening of the gorgeous East^
Bows not his vassal head^ and st rue ken blind
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?
What peremptory eagle-sighted eye
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,
That is not blinded by her majesty r*
Only here and in another early play — 'Borneo and Juliet —
is the imagery of sun-worship brought by Shakespeare into
the same relief/
Another conceit which Shakespeare develops persistently,
in almost identical language, in both the sonnets and Lovers
Labour"* s Los t^ is that the eye is the sole source of love, the
exclusive home of beauty, the creator, too, of strange
delusions in the minds of lovers/
' Cf. 'Romeo and Juliet^ i, i. 114-5::
the luorshipp'd sun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east.
^ Cf. Sonnet xiv. 9 :
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive.
L. L, L. iv. 3. 350 :
From luomefi's eyes this doctrine I derive ^ &c.
Sonnet xvii. 5-6 :
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces.
li. Zi. L,. iv. 3, 311-3 :
Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes
Of beauty's tutors have enriched you with.
Cf. again Sonnet cxiv. 1-7 with L. L. L. v. z. 770-y. For a curious parallel
use of the law terms 'several' and 'common* see Sonnet cxxxvii. p, 10, and
JL. L, L. ii. I. aaj.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 23
Furthermore, the taunts which Biron's friends address
to him on the black or dark complexion of his lady love,
Rosaline, are in phrase and temper at one with Shakespeare's
addresses to his * dark lady ' in the sonnets. In the comedy
and in the poems Shakespeare plays precisely the same
fantastic variations on the conventional controversy of
Renaissance lyrists, whether a black complexion be a sign
of virtue or of vice.'
' Hardly briercr is the list of similarities of phrase and image offered by
Shakespeare's earliest romantic tragedy Romeo and Juliet. The following
four examples are representative of many more : —
Son, XXV, '^—6 : their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye.
Rom. and Jul. i. I. 15" 7-8 :
[bud] can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Son, xcviii. 1-3 :
When proud-pied April^ dressed in all his trim^
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
Rom. and Jul. i. 1. 16-1 :
Such comfoit as do lusty young men feel
When luell-appareird April . . .
Son. cxxxvr. 8-5) :
Among a number one is reckoT^d none :
Then in the number let me pass untold.
Rom. and Jul, i. z. 32-3 :
Which on more view of many^ mine being one
May stand in number^ though in reckoning none.
Son. Lxxxiv. ')-6:
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell
That to his subject lends not some small glory,
Rom, and Jul. i. 3. yc-i :
That book in many eyes doth share the glory
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story.
One of the most perfect utterances of the sonnets (XXXIII. 4), the description
of the glorious morning sun,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.
24
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
Words
peculiar to
sonnets and
early plays.
At many points, characteristic features of Shakespeare's
vocabulary in the sonnets are as intimately associated with
the early plays as the imagery. Several uncommon yet
significant words in the sonnets figure in early plays and
nowhere else. Such are the epithet < dateless', which is
twice used in the sonnets — XXX. 6 and CLIII. <5, and is
only used twice elsewhere, in two early plays, J^clmrd 11^ i. 3.
15-1, and J<^meo and Juliet^ v. 3. 1 1 y'; the two words ^compile'
(LXX VIII. 9), or <■ compil'd ' (LXXX V. 2), and < filed ' (in the
sense of < polished '), which only appear in the sonnets and in
LovPj Labour'^s Lost (lY. 3. 134; v. 2. 5-2 and 8^(5; v. i. 12);
the participial < Out-worn' in sonnets LXIV. 2 < Out-worn
buried age', and LXVIII. i <days out-worn', which is only
met with in Lucrece^ iSfo? 'the worn-out age', and 1761^
<time out-worn'; the epithet < world -without -end ', Sonnet
LVII. f, which is only found elsewhere in Lovers Labour"* s
LostyV. 2. 799; 'wires' for 'hair' (CXXX, 4), a favourite
word with Elizabethan somieteers between 15-90 and 15*9 7?
which is only found elsewhere in the epithet ' wiry ' for
< hairy ' in IQwg Johny iii. 4. 6^ ; and <■ idolatry ' (< Let not
my love be called idolatry') in CV. i, which is used else-
where in five plays ^ — one alone, Tr otitis and Cressida (ii. 2. 5-5),
being of later period.
is closely akin to the lines in yet another early play. Midsummer Night's Dream^
iii. X. 391-3, where we read how
the Eastern gate, all fiery red,
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams.
Turns Into yellow gold his salt-green streams.
' Cf. Son. XXX. 6 :
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night.
Rom. and Jul. v. 3. 115 :
A dateless bargain to engrossing death\
= Viz. Tiuo Gentlemen^ iv. <f. 207; Love's Labour's Lost^ iv. 3. 75;
A Midsummer Night's Dream^ i. 1 . 1 09 ; Romeo and Juliet^ ii. a. 1 14 ; and Trollus
and Cressida^ ii. a. 56^.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 25-
Three rare words which testify to Shakespeare's French
reading — < rondure' (XXI. 8), < couplement ' (XXI. y), and
'carcanet', i.e. necklace (LII. 8) — are only found elsewhere
respectively in Kjfigjohn^ ii. i. 25-9, in Lovers Labour'' s Lost^
V. 2. 5" 3 5", and in Comedy of Errors^ iii. r. 4.
One or two quotations or adaptations of lines of the Early
sonnets in work by other pens, bring further testimony to fj°'^°7he^
the comparatively early date of composition. In these in- sonnets,
stances the likelihood that Shakespeare was the borrower
is very small. The whole line (XCIV. 14) —
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds
appeared before lypf in the play of < Edward III ' (ii. i. 45-1),
together with several distinctive phrases.' The poet Barnfield,
who, in poems published in that and the previous year,
borrowed with great freedom from Venus and Jdonis and
Lucrece^ levied loans on the sonnets at the same time.*
' Two are especially noteworthy, viz. ' scarlet ornaments ', of the lips or
cheeks [Son. CXLIII. 6 and Ediv. Ill, ii. i. lo), and 'flatter', applied to the
effect of sunlight {Son. XXXIII. z and Ediv. Ill, i. 2. 142).
' In Sonnet LXXXV Shakespeare uses together the rare words ^compiled*
and * filed ' (in the sense of ' polished ') when he writes of
comments of your praise, richly compiled, , . .
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
Barnfield, in his Cassandra, which was ready for publication in January, if^f,
writes on the same page of his heroine's lover that ' his tongue compiles her
praise\ and subsequently of 'her ^/^</ tongue'. The collocation of the expres-
sions is curious. Barnfield's descriptions in his Affectionate Shepheard (1794)
of his youth's ' amber locks trust up in golden tramels ', ' which dangle adowne
his louely cheekes ', with the poet's warning of 'th' indecencie of mens long
haire ', and the appeal to the boy, ' Cut off thy Locke, and sell it for gold wier '
[Affectionate Shepheard, I. ii ; II. xix, xxiii), may comment on Shakespeare's
sonnet LXVIII, where the youth is extravagantly complimented on the beauty
of his 'golden tresses', which 'show false art what beauty was of yore', in
Shakespeare's sonnet XCVIII, lines 8-12 —
Nor did I wonder at the lily's luhite^
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose ;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those,
D
26
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
In two sonnets (published in Jan. 179^) Barnfield depre-
ciated the beauty of heroes of antiquity compared with his
own fair friend. Sonnet XII begins : —
Some talke of Ganymede th' Idalian Boy
And some of faire Mo?jis make their boast,
Some talk of him [i.e. Castor], whom louely Laeda
[i.e. mother of Helen] lost . . .
Sonnet XVII opens : — •
Cherry-lipt Adonis in his snowie shape.
Might not compare with his pure luorie white.
Both seem crude echoes of Shakespeare's sonnet LIII : —
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you.
The
sonnets
in private
circulation.
Ill
All occasional poetry, and especially poetry for patrons
< in the liver vein ', was usually < kept in private ' in the
possibly reflect Barnficld's lines in the Affectionate Shepheard {\. iii) : —
His luory-'whtte and Alabaster skin
Is staind throughout with rare Vermillion red.
But as the Lrllie and the blushing Rose^
So white and red on him in order grows.
It is curious to note that this is the only place in all his works where Shake-
speare uses the word 'vermilion'. It is not uncommon in Elizabethan literature;
cf. Sidney's Astrophel^ cii. 5, ' vermillioa dyes'; Daniel's Rosamond (i^^z),
1. ^'78, 'vermilion red' (of roses); J.C.'s Alalia {i^^6), « Vermillion hue' (in
Elizabethan Longer Poems, p. ^61). But it is far more frequent in sixteenth-
century French and Italian poetry (vermeil and vermiglio). It is used in all
the early Italian poems concerning Venus and Adonis which were accessible
to Shakespeare. Cf. Dolce's La Favola d'Adone, iv. 7 : —
Qulvi tra Gigli le vermiglie Rose
Si dimostrano ogn' hor liete e vezzose.
In both Dolce's Ln Favola d! A done (8^. 8) and Tarchagnota's VAdone (71. 6
and 74. 'i.^ Adonis' Aex\ bodv is metamorohosed into ' uno vermizUo fiore' or
« quel fior
SONNETS or SHAKESPEARE 27
Elizabethan era. It was 'held back from publishing'. It
circulated only among the author's or the patron's friends.
The earliest known reference to the existence of any collec-
tion of sonnets by Shakespeare indicates that he followed the
fashion in writing them exclusively for private audiences.'
In 15-98 the critic, Francis Meres, by way of confirming
the statement that 'the sweet, witty soul of Ovid li^'cs in
mellifluous and honey-tong-ued Shakespeare', called to ^witness
his Venus and Adonis^ his Lucrecc^ his sugared Sonnets among
his private friends etc' There can be little question that
Meres refers to sonnets by Shakespeare which were in circula-
tion among his private friends, and were, in the critic's mind,
chiefly distinguished from Shakespeare's two narrative poems
by being unpublished and in private hands/ Meres' lan-
guage is too vague to press very closely. The use of the
common and conventional epithet < sugared ' suggests that
Shakespeare's sonnets were credited by the writer with the
ordinary characteristics of the artificial sonneteering of the
day.'
* Of the specimens of adulatory verse to which reference has been made
above, neither the work of Raleigh, nor of Nashe, nor of Harvey was printed
in the authors' lifetime. Harvey's confession of Jove for Sir Philip Sidney is
not known to be extant. The manuscript copies in which Raleigh's and
Nashe's verse declared their passion for their patrons were printed for the
first time in our own day.
" Manuscript poems written for and circulating among an Elizabethan
poet's friends rarely reached his own hand again. In i5'93 the veteran poet,
Thomas Churchyard, when enumerating in his Ckallenge unpublished pieces by
himself which had been 'gotten from me of some such noble freevds as I am
loath to offend ', includes in his list ' an Injiiitte number of other Songcs and
Sonets^ giuen where they cannot be recouered, nor purchase any fauour when
they are craued '.
^ The conventional epithet 'sugared' was often applied to poetry for
patrons. In the Retume from Tarnassus (idoor), a poverty-stricken scholar,
who seeks the favour of a rich patron, is counselled to give the patron 'some
sugar candy tearms ' (1!. 1377-8), while to the patron's son 'shall thy piping
poetry and sugar endes of verses be directed ' (1. 140+). In the same piece
(1. 24.3) Daniel was congratulated on his ^sugared sonneting'. Cf. ^ sugred
D 2
28 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
Meres' evidence as to the < private' circulation of
a number of Shakespeare's sonnets in 1^98 received the best
possible corroboration a year later, when two sonnets, which
were undoubtedly by Shakespeare, were printed for the first
time in the poetic miscellany, The Passictiate Pilgrim. That
volume v/as compiled piratically by the publisher, William
Jaggard, from ^private' manuscripts, and although its contents
were from various pens, all were ascribed collectively to
Shakespeare on the title-page.
There are indications that separate sonnets by Shake-
speare continued to be copied and to circulate in MS. in the
years that immediately followed. But ten years elapsed before
Sliakespeare's sonnets were distinctly heard of in public again.
Then as many as 1 5-4 were brought together and were given
to the world in a quarto volume.'
Thepublica- On May 20, i<^09, the grant of a licence for the publica-
tion of Shakespeare's sonnets was thus entered in the Registers
of the Stationers' Company : < Entred [to Thomas Thorpe]
for his copie vnder th' andes of master Wilson and master
Lownes Warden, a Booke called Shakespeares soruiettes Vf;>
A knowledge of the career and character of Thomas
Thorpe, who was owner of the copyright and caused the
sonnets to be published, is needful to a correct apprehension
talk', Fletcher's L/V/a, I5'5>3, Sonnet ^a, 1. i ; ^ sugred terms', R. L.'s D'lella^
i^cji), Sonnet 4.; 'Master Thomas Watson's sugred Amintas' in Nashe's
preface to Greene's Menaphon^ 1^89. 'Sucre' is similarly used in French
literature of the same date.
' Eleazar Edgar, a small publisher, who took up his freedom on June 16^
15-97, obtained from the Stationers' Company on January 3, i<5'oo, a licence
for the publication oi ^Amours, by J. D., with Certen Oy' (i.e. other) sonnetes
by W. S.' No book corresponding to this title seems to have been published.
There is small ground for identifying the W. S. of this licence with Shakespeare.
There was another sonneteer of the day, William Smith, who had published
a collection of sonnets under the title of Chloris^ in i ')^6. Edgar may have
designed the publication of another collection by Smith.
tion of the
sonnets.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 29
of the manner in which they reached the printing-press or to
a right apprehension of the order in which they were pre-
sented to the reading public. The story has many points of
resemblance with that of William Jaggard's publication of
The Passionate Pilgrim in iS99-
Thorpe, a native of Barnet in Middlesex, where his father Thorpe's
-1 « • J r • ^ early life.
kept an imi, was at Midsummer, 15-84, apprenticed tor nine
years to an old-established London printer and stationer,
Richard Wat kins, whose business premises were at the sign of
Love and Death in St. Paul's Churchyard. Nearly ten years
later he took up the freedom of the Stationers' Company.
He seems to have become a stationer's assistant. Fortune
rarely favoured him, and he held his own with difficulty for
some thirty years in the lowest ranks of the London publish-
ing trade.
In 1 600 there fell into his hands a « private ' written His owner-
copy of Marlowe's unprinted translation of the first book of 'j^^^us Jip't
Luca7i. Thorpe, who was not destitute of a taste for litera- of Marlowe's
ture he knew scraps of Latin and recognized a good MS.
when he saw one — interested in his find Edward Blount \ then
a stationer's assistant like himself, but with better prospects.
Through Blount's good offices, Peter Short printed Thorpe's
MS. of Marlowe's Luca??^ and Walter Burre sold it at his shop
in St. Paul's Churchyard.
As owner of the MS., Thorpe chose his patron and His
supplied the dedicatory epistle. The patron of his choice Jdresfto
was his friend Blount. The style of the dedication was Edward
•^ J . . Blount in
somewhat flamboyant, but Thorpe showed a literary sense i^^o
^ Blount had already achieved a modest success in the same capacity of
procurer or picker-up of neglected ' copy'. In 1598 he became proprietor of
Marlowe's unfinished and unpublished Hero and L.eander^ and found among
better-equipped friends in the trade both a printer and a publisher for his
treasure-trove.
30 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
when he designated Marlowe < that pure elemental wit ', and
a good deal of dry humour in offering to <his kind and
true friend ', Blount, < some few instructions ' whereby he
might accommodate himself to the unaccustomed role of
patron. Thorpe gives a sarcastic description of a typical
patron. 'When I bring you the book,' he advises Blount,
<take physic and keep state. Assign me a time by your
man to come again. . . , Censure scornfully enough and
somewhat like a traveller. Commend nothing lest you dis-
credit your (that which you would seem to have) judgment.
. . . One special virtue in our patrons of these days I have
promised myself you shall fit excellently, which is to give
nothing.' Finally Thorpe, adopting the conventional tone,
challenges his patron's love < both in this and, I hope, many
more succeeding offices '.
Three years later he was able to place his own name on
the title-page of two humbler literary prizes — each an in-
significant pamphlet on current events. Thenceforth for a
dozen years his name reappeared annually on one, two, or
three volumes. After i6i^ his operations were £qw and far
between, and they ceased altogether in 162^, He seems to
have ended his days in poverty, and has been identified with
the Thomas Thorpe who was granted an alms-room in the
hospital of Ewelme, Oxfordshire, on December 3, 1(^35'.
Character of Thorpc was associatcd with the publication of twenty-
his business. ^-^^^ yolumes in all, including Marlowe's Luca/? ; but in almost
all his operations his personal energies were confined, as in his
initial enterprise, to procuring the manuscript. For a short
period in 160^ he occupied a shop, the Tiger's Head, in
St. Paul's Churchyard, and the fact was duly announced on
the title-pages of three publications which he issued in that
year. But his other undertakings were described on their
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 31
title-pages as printed for him by one stationer and sold for
him by another, and when any address found mention at all,
it was the shopkeeper's address, and not his own. He merely
traded in the < copy ', which he procured how he could — in
a few cases by purchase from the author, but in more cases
through the irregular acquisition of a < private ' transcript of
a work that was circulating at large and was not under the
author's « protection '.' He never enjoyed in permanence the
profits or dignity of printing his 'copy ' at a press of his own,
or selling books on premises of his own. In this homeless
fashion he pursued the well-understood profession of procurer
of ' dispersed transcripts ' for a longer period than any other
known member of the Stationers' Company.
Besides Thorpe, there were actively engaged in the The printer
publication of the first edition of Shakespeare's sonnets the ^^'^^'^ ^ '
printer George Eld and two booksellers, John Wright and
William Aspley, who undertook the sale of the impression.
The booksellers arranged that one-half of the copies should
bear one of their names in the imprint, and the other half
should bear the other's name. The even distribution of the
two names on the extant copies suggests that the edition was
precisely halved between the two. The practice was not un-
common. In 1606 the bookseller Blount acquired the MS.
of the long unpublished A Discourse of Civil/ Life, by Lodowick
* Very few of his wares does Thorpe appear to have procured direct from
the authors. It is true that between i6o^ and 1611 there were issued under
his auspices some eight volumes of genuinely literary value, including, besides
Shakespeare's sonnets, three plays by Chapman (of which the text is very bad),
four works of Ben Jonson (which his old friend Blount seems to have procured
for him), and Coryat's Odcomy'tan Banquet^ a piratical excerpt from Coryat's
Crudities. Blount acquired the copyright of Ben Jonson's Sejanus on November a,
i6'04, and assigned it to Thorpe on August 6^ id'oy. Thorpe did not retain
the property long. He transferred his right in Sejanus, as well as in Jonson's
Vol^one^ to Walter Burre on October 3, i^io.
32 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
Bryskett, the friend of Spenser and Sidney. One-half of the
edition bore the imprint, « London for Edward Blount,' and
the other half, < London for W. Aspley.' '
Thorpe's printer. Eld, and his bookseller, Aspley, were
in well-established positions in the trade. George Eld, who
had taken up his freedom of the Stationers' Company on
January 13, i5oo, married in 1^04 a widow who had already
lost in rapid succession two husbands — both master-printers.
The printing-press, with the office at the White Horse, in
Fleet Lane, Old Bailey, which she inherited from her first
husband Gabriel Simson (d. k^oo), she had handed over next
year to her second husband Richard Read (d. 1504). On
Read's death in 1^04, she straightway married Eld and her
press passed to Eld. In 1^07 and subsequent years Eld was
very busy both as printer and publisher. Among seven copy-
rights which he acquired in 1607 was that of the play called
The Puritaine, which he published with a title-page fraudu-
lently assigning it to W. S. — initials which were clearly intended
to suggest Shakespeare's name to the unwary.
William Aspley, the most interesting of the three men engaged in
booksellei^ producing Thorpe's venture, was the son of a clergyman of
Royston, Cambridgeshire. After serving an apprenticeship
with George Bishop, he was admitted a freeman on April 1 1,
15-97. He never owned a press, but held in course of time
the highest offices in the Company's gift, finally dying during
the year of his mastership in 1640. His first shop was at the
sign of the Tiger's Head in St. Paul's Churchyard, where
Thorpe carried on business temporarily a few years later, but
in 1 503 he succeeded Felix Norton in tlie more important
premises at the sign of the Parrot in the same locality. It was
* There are two copies in the British Museum with the two different
imprints.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 33
there that half of Thorpe's edition of Shakespeare's Sonnets was
offered for sale in 1^09. Aspley had already speculated in Shake-
speare's work. He and a partner, Andrew Wise, acquired in
id 00 copyrights of both the Second Part of Henry IF ^n(X Much
Ado about Nothings and published jointly quarto editions of the
two. In the grant to Aspley and his friend of the licence for
publication of these two plays, the titles of the books are
followed by the words <Wrytten by master Shakespere'. There
is no earlier entry of the dramatist's name in the Stationers'
Company Registers. In 1(^23 Aspley joined the syndicate whicli
William Jaggard inaugurated for printing the First Folio
edition of Shakespeare's plays, and he lived long enough to be
a member of the new syndicate which was formed in 1611 to
publish the Second Folio. Aspley had business relations with
Thorpe, and with Thorpe's friend Blount, long before the issue
of the Sonnets^ and probably supplied Thorpe with capital.'
John Wright, the youngest of the associates in the John
enterprise of the Sonnets^ had been admitted a freeman per boiHeller.
patrimonium on June 28, i(5o2. His business was largely
concerned with chap-books and ballads, but he was fortunate
enough to acquire a few plays of interest. The most inter-
esting publication in which he took part before the Sonnets^
was the pre-Shakesperean play on the subject of E^ng Lear^
the copyright of which he took over from a printer (Simon
Stafford) on May 8, K^oy, on condition that he employed
' On June 25, 1^00, Thorpe and Aspley were granted jointly a provisional
licence for the publication of A leter written to ye governors and assistantes
of ye E[a]st Indian Merchantes in London Concerning the estat[e] of yee[a]st
Indian flete etc' The licence was endorsed : 'This is to be their copy gettinge
aucthority for [it].' The book was ultimately published by Thorpe, and was
the earliest publication on the title-page of which his name figured. A similar
provisional licence, granted to the two men on the same day, came to nothing,
being afterwards cancelled owing to the official recognition of another
publisher's claim to the copy concerned (cf. Arber's Registers^ iii. 37).
E
authority.
34 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
Stafford to print it, which he did. In idii he published
a new edition of Marlowe's Faustus^ which came from
Eld's press, and bore the same imprint as his impression of
Shakespeare's sonnets. At a later period — on May 7, 162.6 —
he joined the printer, John Haviland, in purchasing the
copyright of Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis. His residence,
described as < at Christ Church Gate ', was near Newgate.
After 1 5 1 2 he removed to the sign ot ' the Bible without
Newgate '.
The There are many signs, apart from the state of the text,
shlk"" ° which awaits our inquiry, that Shakespeare had no more
speaie's dircct conccm in Thorpe's issue of his 15-4 sonnets in 1^09,
than in Jaggard's issue of his two sonnets, with the other mis-
cellaneous contents of The 'Passionate Pilgrim^ ten years before.
The exceptionally brusque and commercial description of
the poems, both in the entry of the licence in the Stationers'
Company Register, and on the title-page, as < Shakespeares
Sonnets ' (instead of < Sonnets by William Shakespeare '),
is good evidence that the author was no party to the
transaction.' The testimony afforded by the dedication to
< Mr. W. H. ', which Thorpe signed with his initials on the
leaf following the title-page, is even more conclusive."^ Only
when the stationer owned the copyright and controlled the
publication, did he choose the patron and sign the dedica-
tion. Francis Newman, the stationer who printed ' dispersed
transcripts ' of Sir Philip Sidney's sonnets for the first time in
15-91, exercised the customary privilege. Thorpe had already
done so himself when issuino; Marlowe's Lucan in i<^oo.
' The nearest parallel is in the title of Br'ittons Bowrs of Delights (1^91),
a poetic miscellany piratically assigned to the pott Nicholas Breton by the
publisher Richard Jones. See Passionate Filgrim^ Introduction, p. 16.
^ Initials, instead of full names, were commonly employed when the
dedicatee was a private and undistinguished friend of the dedicator.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 3y
There is no ground for the common assumption tliat Thededka-
' T. T.' in addressing the dedication of Shakespeare's sonnets jJJ'" ^ h.
to ' Mr. W. H.', was transgressing the ordinary law affecting
publishers' dedications, and was covertly identifying the
<loA^cly' youth whom Sliakespeare had eulogized in his sonnets.
A study of Elizabethan and Jacobean bibliography can alone
interpret the situation aright. In all probability Thorpe
in the dedication of the Sonnets followed the analogy of his
dedication of Marlowe's Lucan in 1600. There he selected
for patron Blount, his friend-in-trade, who had aided him in
the publication. His chosen patron of the edition of Shake-
speare's Sonnets in idop was doubtless one who stood to him
in a similar business relation.
Although Thorpe's buoyant and self-complacent per-
sonality slightly coloured his style, his dedicatory address
to ' Mr. W. H. ' followed, with slight variations, the best
recognized and most conventional of the dedicatory formulae
of the day. He framed his salutation of < Mr. W. H.' into
a wish for his patron's 'all happiness' and < eternity '.' <All
' The formula was of great antiquity. Dante employed it in the dedica-
tion of his D'tvhia Corumediaj which ran: 'Domino Kani Grandi de Scala
dcvotissimus suus Dante Aligherius . . . vitam optat per tempora diuturna
felicem, ct gloriosi nominis in perpctuum incrementum.' The Elizabethan
dedicator commonly 'wisheth' his patron 'all happiness' and 'eternity'
(or periphrases to that effect) by way of prelude or heading to a succeeding
dedicatory epistle, but numerous examples could be adduced where the dedi-
cator, as in Thorpe's case, left the 'wish' to stand alone, and where no epistle
followed it. Thorpe's dedicatory procedure and choice of type was obviously
influenced by Ben Jonson's form of dedication before the first edition of
his FoZ/owf, which Thorpe published forjonsoa in 16^07 and which Eld printed.
On the first leaf, following the title, appears in short lines (in the same fount of
large capitals as that used in Thorpe's dedication to ' Mr. W. H.') these
words: 'To the Most Noble | and Most Aequall [ Sisters | The Two Famovs
Vniversitics | For their Love | And | Acceptance | Shewn | TohisPoeme | in
the Presentation | Ben: lonson | The Gratefvll Acknowledger | Dedicates |
Both It and Himsclfe [ .' In very small type, at the right-hand corner of the
E 2
35 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
happiness ', ' health and etemall happinesse ', *• all perseverance
with soiiles happmess \ < health on earth temporall and liigher
happiness eternalP^ <the prosperity of times siiccesse in this life,
with the reward of etemitie in the world to come ' are variants
of the common form, drawn from books that were produced
at almost the same moment as Shakespeare's sonnets. The
substantives are invariably governed by the identical inflexion
of the verb — < wisheth ' — which Thorpe employed.
The promise By attaching to the conventional complimentary mention
e eini y. ^^ ^ eternity ' the ornamental phrase < promised by our ever-
living poet' (i.e. Shakespeare), Thorpe momentarily indulged in
that vein of grandiloquence of which other dedications from his
pen furnish examples. <■ Promises ' of eternity were showered
by poets on their patrons with prodigal hands. Shakespeare
in his sonnets had repeated the current convention with
much fervour when addressing a fair youth. Thorpe's
interweaving of the conventional < wish ' of the ordinary
bookmaker, with an allusion to the conventional < promise '
of the panegyrizing poet, gave fresh zest and emphasis to
the well-worn phrases of complimentary courtesy. There
is no implication in Thorpe's dedicatory greeting of an
ellipse, after the word < promised', of the word 'him', i.e.
<Mr. W. H.' Thorpe 'wisheth' 'Mr. W. H.' 'eternity',
no less grudgingly than ' our ever-living poet ' offered his
own friend the ' promise ' of it in his sonnets.
Thorpe's Almost every phrase in his dedicatory greeting of
tcchmca ^ ^^^ ^ -^ j j^ ^ technical significance, which has no bear-
languagc. o ?
ing on Shakespeare's intention as sonneteer, but exclusively
concerns Thorpe's action and position as the publisher. In
accordance with professional custom, Thorpe dubbed himself
page, below this dedication, are the words : ' There follows an Epistle if | you
dare venture on | the length.' The Epistle begins overleaf.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 37
' the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth ', and thereby
claimed sole and exclusive responsibility for the under-
taking. His fellow-publisher, William Barley, called himself
his patron's 'faithful ivell-ivillcr^ when, in ifpf, he dedicated
a book, the manuscript of which he had picked up without
communication with the author, to Richard Stapar, a Turkey
merchant of his acquaintance.' Similarly, when the dramatist
John Marston in 1606 undertook to issue for himself his play
named ' Parasitaster or the Fawne ', he pointed out in a prose
preface that he (the author) was the sole controller of the
publication, and was on this occasion his own 'setter out':
' Let it therefore stand with good excuse that I have been
my own setter out?
To the title which Thorpe bestows on Mr. W. H., ' the vihc oniic
onlie begetter of these insuing sonnets,' a like professional '^S'^"^'-
significance attaches. In this phrase Thorpe acknowledges the
services of < Mr. W. H.' in ' procuring ' and collecting in his
behalf the ' private ' transcripts, from which the voliune
was printed. To 'Mr. W. H.'s ' sole exertions the birth of
the publication may be attributed. ' Mr. W. H.' filled a part
which is familiarly known in the history of Elizabethan
publishing as 'procurer of the copy '. In Elizabethan English
there was no irregularity in the use of ' begetter ' in its
primary sense of ' getter ' Ox ' procurer ', without any implica-
' Barley saluted his patron (before Richard Haslctoii's report of his ' Ten
years' Travels in foreign countries ') thus : ' Your worship's faithful well-wilier,
W[illiam] Barley, wisheth all fortunate and happy success in all your enter-
prises, with increase of worldly worship ; and, after death, the joys unspeak-
able.' A rare copy of the tract is at Britwell. It is reprinted in Arber's
Garner. The stationer Thomas VValklcy in i6^ai, in his preface to the
Second Quarto of Beaumont and Fletcher's Thilastev^ wrote that "^he had
adventured to issue a revised edition knowing how many loell-'wishers it had
abroad'. Another 'stationer', Richard Hawkins, who published on his own
account the third edition of the same play in i6r%^ described himself in the
preliminary page as ' acting the merchant adventurer s part '.
3 8 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
tion of that common secondary meaning of <■ breed ' or
'generate', which in modern speech has altogether displaced
the earlier signification.'
' 'Beget' came into being as an intensive form of * get ', and was
mainly employed in Anglo-Saxon and Mediaeval English in the sense of
'obtain'. Jt acquired the specialized signification of 'breed' at a slightly
later stage of development, and until the end of the seventeenth century it
bore concurrently the alternative meanings of 'procure' (or 'obtain') and
' breed ' (or ' produce '). Seventeenth-century literature and lexicography recog-
nized these two senses of the word and no other. ' Begetter ' might
mean 'father' (or 'author") or it might mean 'procurer' (or 'acquirer'). There
is no suggestion that Thorpe meant that Mr. W. H. was ' author ' of the
sonnets. Consequently doubt that he meant 'procurer' or 'acquirer' is
barely justifiable. The following are six examples of the Elizabethan use
of the word in its primary significance of 'procure': —
(i) The mightier [sc. the] man, the mightier is the thing
That makes him honour'd, or l>egets [i.e. procures] him hate.
{^LucrecCy 1004.-5.)
(i) We could at once put us in readiness,
And take a lodging fit to entertain
Such friends as Time in Padui shall teget [i.e. procure].
{Tam'mg of the Shrew, i. i. 43-5.)
(3) 'In the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of
passion . . . acquire and IfCget a temperance.' [Hamlet, iii. 2. 6.) Hamlet in
this sentence colloquially seeks emphasis by repetition, and the distinction of
meaning to be drawn between 'acquire' and 'beget' is no more than tliat
to be drawn between the preceding 'torrent' and 'tempest.'
(4) 'I have some cousins german at Court [that] shall hegct you (i.e.
procure for you) the reversion of the Master of the King's Revels.' (Dekker's
Satirowasttx, iGzi i cf. Hawkins' Origin of B^igUsh Dr^ma, iii. 196'.)
(5") ' [This play] hath hegot itself (i.e. procured for itself or obtained)
a greater favour than he (i.e. Sejajius) lost, the love of good men.' (Ben Jon-
son's dedication before Sejanus, k^o^, which was published by Thorpe.)
[f^) [A spectator wishes to see a hero on the stage] ' kill Paynims, wild
boars, dun cows, and other monsters; beget him (i.e. get him) a reputation,
and marry an Emperor's daughter for his mistress'. (Ben Jonson's Mag?ietic
Lady (1^31), Act i, Epilogue.)
Jt should be borne in mind that in the Variorum edition of i8ii James
Boswcll the younger, who there incorporated Malonc's unpublished collec-
tions, appended to T. T.'s dedication the note : 'The word begetter is merely
the person who gets or procures a thing, with the common prefix be added to
it.' After quoting Dekker's use of the word as above (No. 4), Boswcll adds
that W. H. probably ' furnished the printer with his copy '. Neither Stecvens
nor Malone, who were singu'arly well versed in Elizabethan bibliography,
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 39
A very few years earlier a cognomen almost identical 'First
with < begetter ' (in the sense of procurer) was conferred in cd/eaour
a popular anthology, entitled Belvedere or the Garden of the of these
l\Iusesj on one who rendered its publisher the like service
that Mr. W. H. seems to have rendered Thorpe, the publisher
of Shakespeare's Sennets. One John Bodenham, filling much
the same role as that assigned to Mr. W. H., brought together
in 1600 a number of brief extracts ransacked from the
unpublislied, as well as from the published, writings of con-
temporary poets. Bodenham's collections fell into the hands
of an enterprising < stationer ', one Hugh Astley, who published
them under the title Belvedere or The Garden of the Pluses, After
an unsigned address from the publisher ' To the Reader '
in explanation of the undertaking, there follows immediately
a dedicatory sonnet inscribed to John Bodenham, who had
brought the material for the volume together, and had
committed it to the publisher's charge. The lines are signed
in the publisher's behalf, by A. M. (probably the well-known
writer, Anthony Munday). Bodenham was there apostro-
phized as
First causer and coUectour of these floures.
In another address to the reader at the end of the book,
which is headed ' The Conclusion ', the publisher again refers
more prosaically to Bodenham, as < The Gentleman who
recognized that ' begetter ' could be interpreted as ' inspirer ' — an interpreta-
tion of which no example has been adduced. Daniel used the word ' begotten \
in the common sense of 'produced', in the dedicatory Sonnet to the
Countess of Pembroke, before his collection of sonnets called Delia [I'^ipJ).
He bids his patroness regard his poems as her own, as ^ begotten by thy hand
and my desire' ; she is asked to treat them as if they were \\\.e\x\\y proJuceJ
by, or born of, her hand or pen, at the writer's request. The countess was
herself a writer of poetry, a circumstance which gives jxjint to Daniel's
compliment. The passage is deprived of sense if 'begotten by thy hand' be
accorded any other meaning.
text
40 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
was the cause of this Collection' (p. 235-). When Thorpe
called * Mr. W. H.' ' the onlie begetter of these insuing
sonnets ', he probably meant no more than the organizers
of the publication of the book called Belvedere^ in 1600^ meant
when they conferred tlie appellations < first causer' and 'the
cause' on John Bodenham, wlio was procurer for them of
the copy for that enterprise/
IV
State of the The comipt State of the text of Thorpe's edition of
1^09 fully confirms the conclusion that the enterprise lacked
authority, and was pursued throughout in that reckless spirit
which infected publishing speculations of the day. The
character of the numerous misreadings leaves little doubt that
Thorpe had no means of access to the author's MS. The
procurer of the <■ copy ' had obviously brought together
' dispersed transcripts ' of varying accuracy. Many had
accumulated incoherences in their progress from pen to pen.^
The <■ copy ' was constructed out of the papers circulating in
private, and often gave only a hazy indication of the poet's
' What was the name of which W. H. were the initials cannot be stated
positively. I have given reasons for believing them to belong to one William
Hall, a freeman of the Stationers" Company, who seems to have dealt^in un-
published poems or ' dispersed transcripts ' in the early years of the seven-
teenth century and to have procured their publication • cf. Life of Shakespeare^
p. 4.18 seq.
- Like Sidney's sonnets, which long circulated in 'private' MSS.,
Shakespeare's collection ' being spread abroad in written copies, had gathered
much conuption by ill writers (i.e. scriveners)'. Cf. the publisher Thomas
Newman's dedicatory epistle before the first (unauthorized) edition of Sidney's
Astropkel a7id Stella (i^pi). Thorpe's bookselling friend, Edward Blount,
when he gathered together, without the author's aid, the scattered essays by
John Earle, which Blount published in KJaS under the title of Micro-cosmo-
graphie^ described them as *many sundry dispersed transcripts, some very
imperfect and surreptitious '.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
41
meaning. The compiler had arranged the poems roughly in
order of subject. The printer followed the manuscript with
ignorant fidelity. Signs of inefficient correction of the press
abound, and suggest haste in composition and press-work.
The book is a comparatively short one, consisting of forty
leaves and 2,1 5- (5 lines of verse. Yet there are probably on
an average five defects per page or one in every ten lines.
Of the following thirty-eight misprints, at least thirty Misprints.
play havoc with the sense : —
XII. 4. And sable curls or siluer'd ore with white :
(for all).
XXIII. 14. To heare ivit eies belongs to loues fine miht:
(for with and wit).
XXVI. II. And puts apparrell on my tottered louing: (for
tattered).
XXV II I. 14. And night doth nightly make greefes length
seeme stronger : (for strength).
XXXIX. 12. Which time and thoughts so sweetly dost
deceiue : (for doth).
XL. 7. But yet be blam'd, if thou this selfe deceauest :
(for thy).
XLiv. 13. Receiuing naught/ by elements so sloe.
XLA II. II. For thou nor farther then my thoughts canst
moue : (for not or 710).
LI. 10. Therefore desire (of perfect/ love being
made).
Liv. 14. When that shall vade, by verse distils your
truth : (for my).
LVi. 13. Js cal it Winter, which being ful of care :
(for or).
Lxiii. 2. With times iniurious hand chrusht and ore-
worne : (for crush"* d),
F
42 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
Misprints. Lx\ . 12. Or who liis spoile or beautie can forbid
(for of),
Lxix. 5. All toiings (the voice of soulcs) giue thee that
end', (for due).
Lxxiii. 4. Bare ni'vpd quiers, where late the sweet birds
sang : (for ruiti^d).
Lxxvi. 7. That eiiery word dotji almost fel my name :
(for tell).
Lxxvii. iG. Commit to these waste blacks^ and thou shalt
finde : (for blanks).
Lxxxviii. I. When thou shalt be dispode to set me light:
(for disposed).
xc. II. But in the onset come, so stall I taste: (for
sJ?all).
xci. 9. Thy loue is bitter then high birth to me :
(for better).
xciv. 4. Vnmooued, coiildy and to temptation slow :
(for cold).
xcvi. II. How many gazers mighst thou lead away:
(for mightest).
xcix. 9. Our blushing shame, an other white dispaire :
(for One).
cii. 7-8. As Philomell in summers front doth singe,
And stops his pipe in growth of riper daies :
(for her).
cv I. 12. They had not still enough your worth to
sing: (for skill).
c\'iii. 3. What's new to speake, what now to register:
(for neiv).
cxii. 14. That all the world besides ine thinkes y'*are
dead', (for methinks are dead).
cxiii. 6. 01 bird, of flowre, or shape which it doth
lackj. (for latch).
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
43
CXL. I ^
cxLIv^ 2.
cxxvii. 9. Therefore my Mistcrsse eyesore Rauen blackc : Misprints.
(For Mistresses brews).
cxxix. 9. Made In pursiit and in possession so : (for
7)1 ad itt pursuit).
10- 1 1. Had, hailing, and in quest, to hauc extreamc
A blisse in proof e and proud and very wo :
(for proved a).
cxxxii. 2. Knowmg thy lieart torment me with disdaine :
(for torments).
9. As those two morniftg eyes become thy face :
(for 7nournin^).
Tliat I may not be so, nor thou be lyde : (for
belied).
Which like two spirits do sugiest me still :
(for suggest).
6. Tempteth my better angel from my sigl)t\ (for
side).
CLii. 13. For I haue sworne thee faire : more periurde
eye: (for 1).
CLiii. 14. Where Cupid got new fire; my mistres eye\
(for eyes rhyming with lies).
The discrepancies in spelling may not exceed ordinary Confusion
limits, but they confirm the impression that the compositors "^ ^^^ "^^'
followed an unintelligent transcript. ' Scythe ' appears as
<sieth' (Xir. 13 and C. 14), and as 'syeth ' (CXXIII. 14);
'Minutes' appears as <mynuits' (XIV. s ^nd LXXVII. 2),
as < mynuit ' (CXXVI. 8), and as < minuites ' (LX. 2) ; < False '
appears as 'false' (XX. 4, f), as 'faulse' (LXVIII. 14), and
as 'falce' (LXXII. 9, XCII. 14, XCIII. 7). More than forty
other orthographical peculiarities of like significance, i*zvf of
which are distinguishable from misprints, are : — ' accumilate '
for 'accumulate' (CXVII. 10); 'a fioate ' for ' afloate '
F 2
44 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
(LXXX. 9); ^alaied' for 'allayed' (LVI. 3)^ 'are' (in
<thou are') for 'art' (LXX. i); 'Asconce' for 'Askance'
(CX. 6); 'Alcumie' for 'alchemy' (CXIV. 4); 'bale' for
'bail' (CXXXIII. 10); ' bcare ' for 'bier ' (XII. 8); 'binne'
for ' been '(CX VII. ;); 'boiire' for 'bower' (CXXVII. 7);
' coopelment ' for ' couplement ' (XXI. 5-) ; ' Croe ' for ' crow '
(CXIII. 12); ' cry ttick' for 'critic '(CXI I. 11); ' culler ' for
'colour' (XCIX. 14); 'Currall' for 'Coral' (CXXX. 2);
' deceaued ' for ' deceived ' (CIV. 12);' denide ' for ' denied '
(CXLII. 14) j 'dome' for 'doom' (CXLV. 7); 'Eaues'for
' Eves ', i. e. ' Eve's ' (XCIII. 13);* ethers ' for ' cithers ', i. e.
'cither's' (XXVIII. f) ; < fild ' for 'filled' (LXIII. 3 and
LXXX VI. 13);^ foles ' for ' fools ' (CXXIV. 13);' grin'de '
for ' grind ' (CX. 10) ; ' grose ' for ' gross ' (CLI. 6) ; ' higth '
for ' height ' (CXVI. 8) ; ' Himne ' for ' hymn ' (LXXXV. 7) ;
< hower ' for ' hour ' (CXXVI. 2) ; ' hunny ' for ' honey '
(LXV. 5-); *!' for ^Ay' (CXXXVI. 6); 'iealious' for 'jealous'
(LVII. 9) J < inhearce ' for ' inhearse ' (LXXX VI. 3) ; < mar-
ierom ' for ' marjoram ' (XCIX. 7) ; ' naigh ' for ' neigh ' (LI.
11); ' nere ' for ' ne'er ', i. e. ' never ' (CXVIII. f) ; * of for
'off' (LXL 14); 'pertake' for 'partake' (CXLIX. 2);
'pibled' for 'pebbled' (LX. i); 'pray' for 'prey'
(LXXIV. 10); 'randon' for 'random' (CXLVII. 12);
' renu'de ' for 'renewed' (CXI. 8); 'sawsie' for 'saucy'
(LXXX. 7); ^ shall' for 'shalt' (LXXXVIII. 8); 'thether'
for 'thither' (CLIII. i2)j ' vnstayined ' for 'unstained'
(LXX. 8); 'woes' for ' woos ' (XLI. 7); ' yawes ' for
'jaws' (XIX. 3); 'y'haue' for 'you have' (CXX. d) ;
'Yf for 'If (CXXIV. i).
* Their 'for The Substitution, fifteen times, of t/mr for thy or thwey
** y • and once of there for thee^ even more forcibly illustrates the
want of intelligeiit apprehension of the subject-matter of the
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 4^
poems on the part of those who saw the vokime through the
press. Vcw works are more dependent for their due compre-
hension on the correct reproduction of the possessi\'e pro-
nouns, and the frequent recurrence of this form of error is
very damaging to tlie reputation of the text.
The following is a list of these puz/ling confusions : —
XXVI. 12. To show me worthy of their sweet respect:
(for tby). ^
XXVII. ro. Presents their shaddoc to my sightles view:
(for thy).
XXXI. 8. But thin2.s remou'd that hidden in there lie:
(for thee).
XXXV. 8. Excusing their sins more then their sins are :
(for thy and thy).
XXXV II. 7. Intitled in their parts, do crov/ned sit : (for
xLiii. II. When in dead night their faire imperfect
shade : (for thy).
XLV. 12. Of their faire health, recountinp; it to me:
(for thy).
xLvi. 3. Mine eye, my heart their pictures sight would
barre : (for thy).
8 . And sayes in him their faire appearance lyes :
(for thy).^
13. As thus, mine eyes due is their outward part:
(for thine).
14. And my hearts right, their inward loue of
heart : (for thine).
Lxix. f. Their outward thus with outward praise is
crownd : (for Thy).
Lxx. 6. Their worth the greater beeing woo'd of
time : (for Thy).
' To ' for
' too '.
' Were * and
' wear *.
Miscella-
neous errors.
4d
CXXVIII. II
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
14.
XXXVIII. 3.
LXI. 14.
LXXIV. 12.
LXXXIII. 7.
LXXXVI. 2.
Ore whome their fingers walke with gentle
gate : (for thy).
Giue them their fingers, me tliy lips to kisse :
(for thy).
The like want of care, altlioiigh of smaller moment, is
apparent in the frequent substitution of the preposition to for
the adverbial too : —
Thine owne sweet argument, to excellent.
From me farre of, with others all to neere.
To base of thee to be remembred.
How farre a moderne quill dotli come to
short.
Bound for the prize of (all to precious) you.
The reverse mistake appears in —
cxxxv. 2. And Will too boote : (for to boot).
At least thrice were is confused with wear : —
Lxxvii. I. Thy glasse will shew thee how thy beauties
were : (for wear).
xcviii. II. They weare but sweet, but figures of delight :
(for were).
cxL. f. If I might teach thee witte better it weare:
(for were).
The following proofs of carelessness admit of no classifi-
cation, but give additional proof of the want of discrimination
on the part of those who have credited the volume with
exceptional typographical accuracy.'
' There are some trifling discrepancies between various copies of the
edition which illustrate the common practice among Elizabethan printers of
binding up an uncorrected sheet, after the sheet has been corrected, and after
other copies have been made up with the corrected version. The « Ellesmere '
copy has, in LXXVIII. 6, the unique misreading— /^^ (for /;>) — which is cor-
rected in other copies. As in the British Museum copy, it has, too, at F^ (recto)
the wrong catchword T/:e for SfeaJse, which is set right in the Bodleian copy.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 47
There was an obvious error in the ' copy ' of the first two
lines o^ Sonnet CXLVI. i, 2 : —
Poore soule the center of my sin full earthy
My sinfull earth these rebbell powres that thee array.
The repetition of the tliree last words of line i at the
beginning of line 2 makes the sense and metre hopeless.
Sonnet Qy^y\ is wrongly headed 119.
The first word of Sonnet CXXII, Thy^ appears as TThy.
The initial * W of Sonnet LXXIX is from a wrong fount.
The catchwords are given more correctly in some copies
than in others, but nine errors are found in all. At C3
(recto) To appears instead of Thou ; at C4 (verso) Et email
for Eternal'^ at E (recto) Crawls for Crawles-^ at D2 (recto),
E3 (recto), F (verso), G2 (verso), H3 (verso), and I2 (recto),
Mine^ That^ I grant ^ Wheriy My^ and Loue appear instead of
the numerals 4^, 70, 82, io5, 130, and 142, which are the
headings respectively of the next pages (the numeral is
given correctly in like circumstances in seven other places).
The appearance of two pairs of brackets, one above the
other, enclosing blank spaces, at the end of Sonnet CXXVI
is a curious irregularity, due probably for once to the printer's
scruples, albeit mistaken. The poem is not a regular sonnet :
it consists of six riming couplets — twelve lines in all. But it
is complete in itself, and it is not uncommon to find poems
of the same kind and length inserted in sonnet-sequences of
the day. The printer, however, imagined that it was a sonnet
with the thirteenth and fourteenth lines missing, and for these
he clumsily left a vacant space which he \'aguely expected to
fill in subsequently.'
* The suggestion that the printer intended the empty brackets to denote
the close of the first section of the sonnets, most of which were addressed to
a man, and the opening of a second section, most of which were addressed
punctuation.
italics.
48 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
ineguiari- Punctuatioii shows, Oil the whole, no more systematic
"^^ °/ .• ^ ^^^^ ^^^^^"^ other features of composition. Commas are fre-
quent, both in and out of place. At times they stand for
a full stop. At times they are puzzlingiy replaced by a colon
or semicolon, or again they are omitted altogether. Brackets
are occasionally used as a substitute for commas, but not
regularly enough to justify a belief that they were introduced
on a systematic plan.'
Capitals and Considerable irregularity characterizes the use of capital
letters within the line or of italic type. Both appear rarely
and at the compositor's v/him. It was the natural tendency to
italicize unfamiliar or foreign words and names and to give them
an initial capital in addition. But the printer of the sonnets
usually went his own way without heed of law or custom."
to a woman, is unsupported by authority or by the precise position of the
brackets. They are directly attached to tlie single sonnet (CXXVI), and
point to some imagined hiatus within its limits.
* Brackets, in the absence of commas, are helpful in such lines as these:
Whilst I (my soueraine) watch the clock for you lvii. 6.
Oh let mc suffer (being at your beck) Lviii. 5-.
O if (I say) you looke vpon this verse Lxxi. p.
When I fperhaps) compounded am with clay 10.
Or (being wrackt) I am a worthlesse bote lxxx. ii.
Brackets are wrongly introduced in lines like : —
But since your worth (wide as the Ocean is) lxxx. 5*.
Bound for the prize of (all to precious) you, lxxxvi. ^.
The absence of all punctuation within the line in such lines as these is very
perplexing : —
Which vsed Hues th' executor to be. iv. i^.
Sings this to thee thou single wilt proue none. viii. i^.
In several places a mark of interrogation takes the place of one of ex-
clamation with most awkward effect.
= *Rose' is used twelve times: it is italicized once (I. z) j the names of
other flowers are not italicized at all (cf. XXV. 6, XCIV. 14, XCVIII. t),
XCIX. 6). 'Alchemy' (alcumic) is used twice : it is once italicized (CXIV. 4)
and once not (XXXIII. 4). ' Audite' is used thrice, and is twice italicized.
'Autumn' appears twice, and is once italicized : 'spring', 'summer', and
'winter' are never thus distinguished. The following are the other italicized
words in the sonnets: Al?isme (CXIl. (>) j Adonis (LIII. 5:) j Al'mi (LXXVIII. 3);
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 49
To Thorpe's <copy' of the sonnets was appended a poem ^ Lwtrs
which had no concern with them. It consisted of 329 lines ^'""^'""'•
in the seven-line stanza of Lucrece^ and was entitled ' A Lovers
Complaint. By William Shake-speare.' The piece is a poetic
lament by a maiden for her betrayal by a deceitful lover.
The title constantly recurs in Elizabethan poetry.' The
tone throughout is conventional. The language is strained,
and the far-fetched imagery exaggerates the worst defects of
Shakespeare's Lucrece. Such metaphors as the following are
frequent : —
Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride,
As they did battery to the spheres intend. (11. 22-3.)
This said, his watery eyes he did dismount.
Whose sights till then were levell'd on my face. (11. 281-2.)
A very large number of words which are employed in the
poem are found nowhere else in Shakespeare's work. Some
of these seem invented for the occasion to cover incapacity of
expression."" The attribution of the poem to Shakespeare may
Cupid (Chill. I and 14); Dyans (CLIII. 2); Eaues [XClll. 13); Grecian
(LIU. 8) ; Hellens (LIII. 7] ; Herhkke (CXXIV. 5?) ; Heivs (XX. 7) ; Informer
(CXXV. 13); Intrim (LVI. 5?); Mars (LV. 7); Vhilomell (CII. 7); ^etm
(CXXVI. la); Satire (C. Ii); Saturne (XCVIII. 4.); Statues (LV. f ) j
Syren (CXIX. l) ; Will {CXXXV. I, 1, II, 12, 14, j CXXXVI. 2, f, 14.;
CXLIII. 13). In A Lover's Complaint only a single word throughout is itali-
cized — Alices^ in 1. 273. The following words of like class to those italicized
in the sonnets lack that mark of distinction: Orient (VII. i); Phsnix (XIX. 4.);
xMuse (XXXII. 10 et al. loc); Ocean (LXIV. 5); Epitaph (LXXXI. i);
Rhethorick (LXXXII. 10); Charter (LXXXVII. 3); cryttick (CXII. 11);
cherubines (CXIV. 6) ; Phisitions (CXL. 8).
^ Two poems called ' A Lovers Complaint ' figure in Breton's Arhor
of Amorous Devises (15" 97).
^ The following are some of the once-used words in A Lover's Complaint:
'Acture' (1. 185); 'annexions' (io8) ; 'bat' [i.e. stick] (6'4); 'credent'
(279); ' encrlmson'd' (201); ' ender ' (222); ' enpatron ' (224.); 'enswathed'
(49); « extincture ' (254.) ; ' fluxive' (^o); ' impleach'd ' (205) ; 'inundation'
(2c)o); ' invised' (212) J 'laundering' (17) ; 'lover'd' (320) • 'maund'(3d);
'pensived' (119); 'phraseless' (115); 'plenitude' (302) j ' sawn '[= seen]
(511) J ' sheaved ' hat (31)5 ' termless ' (94.).
G
yo SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
well be disputed. It was probably a literary exercise on a very
common theme by some second-rate poet, which was circu-
lating like the sonnets in written copies, and was assigned to
Shakespeare by an enterprising transcriber. The reference to —
Deep-brained sonnets, that did amplify
Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality,
(11. 209-10.)
combines with the far-fetched conceits to suggest that the
writer drew much of his inspiration from that vast sonnet
literature, which both in France and England abounded in
affected allusions to precious gems.' The typography of the
poem has much the same defects as the sonnets. Among the
confusing misprints are the following : — * a sacred Sunne ' for
^nun' (2(^0) j ^Or cleft effect' for «0' (293); 'all straiug
formes ' for * strange ' (303) 5 * sounding palenesse ' for <s wound-
ing ' or ' swooning ' ( 3 oj) 5 * sound'' for * swound ' or ' swoon '
(308).
^ Ronsard, and all the poets of the Pleiade, were very generous in their
comparison of their mistress* charms to precious stones. The practice, which
was freely imitated by Elizabethan sonneteers, received its most conspicuous
illustration in the work of Remy Belleau, in his "Les Amovrs et novveavx
eschanges des pierres precievses^ vertvs et proprletez. d'lcelleSj which was first pub-
lished at Paris in 1576^, and figuratively describes, with amorous application, the
amethyst, the diamond, the loadstone, the ruby, onyx, opal, emerald, turquoise,
and many other precious stones. Shakespeare proves his acquaintance with
poems of the kind, when he refers in his sonnets to the sonneteers' habit of
Making a couplement of proud compare.
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rkh gems.
{Sonnet XXI.)
In Sonnet CXXX he again derides the common convention : —
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE ft
Thorpe's edition of the Sonnets does not seem to have Reception of
been received by the public witli enthusiasm. Edward AUeyn, volume/
the actor, purchased a copy of the book for fivepence, in
June, i5o9, within a month of its publication.' Another
copy, in the John Rylands Library (No. VI, below), was
clearly purchased at the same price for a gift-book, near
the same date. Yet a third extant copy (No. VII, below)
bears indication that it was acquired in very early days by
Milton's patron, the Earl of Bridgewater. But there is no
sign that Shakespeare's sonnets were widely read. A single
edition answered the demand. The copyright proved of no
marketable value. Thorpe retained it till he disappeared in
1(^2 5*, and then no one was found to take it off his hands.
Contemporary references to Shakespeare's sonnets in the
printed literature of the day are rare. The poet, Drummond
of Hawthornden, seems to have studied them, though he failed
to note the purchase of Thorpe's volume in the list which he
prepared of the English books bought by him up to the year
161^, Many reminiscences of Shakespeare's sonnets figure in
Drummond's early sonnets and poems, which were first col-
lected in I ^ 1 6. He borrowed, too, some lines from A Lover"* s
CompIaintyW\\ic\iv/^s appended to Thorpe's edition of the Sonnets^'
' Warner's Dul-wich Manuscript s^ p. gz.
' Cf. Drummond's Poems^ pt. ii. Sonnet xi, and impression, Edinb. 1616 :
dearc Napkin doe not grieve
That I this Tribute pay thee from mine Eine^
And that (these posting Houres I am to live)
I laundre thy faire Figures in this Brine.
A Lover's Complaint (if-iS) :
Oft did she heave her Napkin to her eyne^
Which on it had conceited characters,
Laundring the silken figures in the Brine
That seasoned woe had pelleted in teares.
G 2
f2
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
Continued
circulation
of the
sonnets in
manuscript.
The eighth
sonnet in
manuscript.
Some twenty years later, Shakespeare's earnest admirer and imi-
tator, Sir John Suckling, literally reproduced many expressions
from Shakespeare's sonnets, in his Tragedy of Brennoralt^
There seems little doubt that Shakespeare's sonnets
continued to circulate in manuscript as separate poems,
with distinct headings, after, no less than before, Thorpe's
publication of the collection. Many copies of detached
sonnets appear in extant manuscript albums, or in common-
place books of the early years of the seventeenth century.
The textual variations from Thorpe's edition indicate
that these transcripts were derived from a version still
circulating in manuscript, which was distinct from that
which Thorpe procured. In a manuscript commonplace
book in the British Museum, which was apparently begun
about the
year idio.
with the heading not
there is a copy of Sonnet VIII ^,
found anywhere else : < In laudem
* Shakespeare's Sonnet XLVII : —
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is tooke,
And each doth good turnes now vnto the other,
Whe7i that mine eye is famisht for a look^
Or heart in love with sighes himselfe doth smother ;
With my loues picture then my eye doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart,
clearly suggested such a passage in Suckling's play (v. i8-aa) (cf. Vragmenta
Aurea, 1 64.6', p. 44), as : —
Iph\igene'\. Will you not send me neither.
Your picture when y* are gone ?
That 'when my eye is famisht for a looke^
It may have where to feed,
And to the painted Feast invite my heart.
^ Cf. Add. MS. i5,2x(), f. 4. b. This volume contains many diiFerent
handwritings belonging to various periods of the seventeenth century. It
opens with a poem which does not seem to have been printed, entitled
Raivleighs Caueat to Secure Courtiers^ beginning, ' I speak to such if anie such
there be.' Towards the end of the volume is a copy of a tract on the Plague
of London of 16^6^5', and, in a far earlier hand, copies of Hey wood's transla-
tion of the two Epistles of Ovid, which appear in The Fassionate Pi/grim of
i6iz.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 5-3
musice et opprobrium contcmptorij (sic) eiusdem.' There is no
sign that the poem was recognized as forming part of any
long sequence of sonnets. The variant readings are not
important, but they are numerous enough, combined v/ith
differences in spelling, punctuation, and the use of capital
letters, to prove that the copyist did not depend on Thorpe's
text. In the manuscript the two quatrains and the con-
cluding sixain are numbered ' i ', ' 2 ', and ' 3 ' respectively.
The last six lines appear in the manuscript thus : —
3-
Marke howe one stringe, sv/ect husband to another
Strikes each on each, by mutuall orderinge
Resemblinge Childe^ and Syer^ and happy Mother
v/.^'* all in one, this single note dothe singe
whose speechles songe beeinge many seeming one
Sings this to thee^ Thou single^ shall prone mne.
W : Shakspeare
In Thorpe's edition these lines run thus : —
Marke how one string sweet husband to an other.
Strikes each in each by mutuall ordering;
Resembling' sier^ and child^ and happy mother,
Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing :
Whose speechlesse song being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee thou single wilt prone none.
The superior punctuation of the last line of the manuscript is
noticeable.
In like manner. Sonnets LXXI and XXXII, which, closely Sonmts
connected in subject, meditate on the likelihood that the poet xxxii.
v/ill die before his friend, appear as independent poems in
a manuscript commonplace book of poetry apparently kept
by an Oxford student about i<^33.'
* This MS., formerly belonging to Mr. J. O. Halliwell-PhilJipps, is now
in the library of Mr. Marsden J. Perry, of Providence, U.S.A. Mr. Winship,
5-4 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
The edition No less than thirty-one years elapsed before a second
of 1^40. publisher repeated Thorpe's experiment. In 1^40, John
Benson, a publisher of St. Dunstan's Churchyard, Fleet
Street, where Jaggard's memory still lingered, brought out
a volume called ' Poems written by Wil. Shakespeare Gent.'
It is a miscellaneous collection of verse by several hands,
of Providence, has kindly sent me a transcript. The text of the two sonnets
only differs from Thorpe's edition in points of spelling and in the substitution
of 'me' for 'you' in LXXf. 8, and of Moue' for 'birth' in XXXII. 11.
Thorpe's readings are the better. In a volume of MS. poetry now belonging
to Mr. Bertram, of London, the well-known critic and bookseller, and dating
about 16^30, Sonnet II appears as a separate poem with a distinct title, which
is not met with elsewhere. The textual variations from Thorpe's text induce
Mr. Dobcll to regard it as a transcript of a copy which was not accessible to
Thorpe. Most of the poems in Mr. Dobell's manuscript volume bear their
writers' names. But this sonnet is unsigned, and the copyist was in apparent
ignorance that it was Shakespeare's work. In another similar MS. collection
of poetry, which belonged to Mr. Dobell, and is now the property of an
American collector, there figured several fragmentary excerpts from Shake-
speare's sonnets in an order which is found nowhere else. The handwriting
is of the early part of the seventeenth century, and shows slight variations in
point of words, spelling, and punctuation from the printed text. In two
instances distinct titles are given to the poems. One of these transcripts,
headed ' Cruel ', runs thus : —
Thou, Contracted to thine owne bright eys,
Feedst thy light flame with selfe substantial fewell,
Makeing a famine, where aboundance lies.
Thy selfe thy foe to thy sweet selfe too cruell.
Thou that art now the worlds fresh ornament,
And onely herauld to ye Gaudy spring.
Within thine owne Bud Buriest thy Contend,
And tender Churle makes wast in niggarding.
Pitty ye world or Els this Glutton bee
To Eat ye worlds due by ye world & thee.
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And Dig deep tranches in thy beautyes field.
Thy youths Proud liuery so gazd on now
Wil be A totterd weed of small worth held.
The Canker bloomcs haue ful as deepe a dy
As ye Perfumed tincture of ye roses.
The first ten lines correspond with Sonnet I. 5r-i4., the next four with Sonnet II.
1-4, and the last two with Sonnet LIV. ')-6,
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE r;
but its main contents are 145 of Shakespeare's sonnets inter-
spersed with all the poems of Jaggard's Passionate Pilgrim
in the third edition of id 12, and further pieces by Heywood
and others. A short appendix presents ' an addition of some
excellent poems ... by other gentlemen' which are all
avowedly the composition of other pens.
There is no notice in the Stationers' Register of the
formal assignment of the copyright of either Shakespeare's
Sonnets or Jaggard's Passionate Pi/grim to Benson. But Benson
duly obtained a licence on November 4, 1(^39, for the publi-
cation of the appendix to his volume. The following entry
appears in the Stationers' Company's Register under that
date ; —
Entred [to John Benson] for his Copie under the hands
of doctor Wykes and Master fFetherston warden An Addicion
of some excellent Poems to Shakespeares Poems by other gentle-
men. vi7^. His mistris drawne. and her mind by Beniamin
Johnson. An Epistle to Beniamin Johnson by Ffrancis Beau-
mont. I His Mistris shade by R. Herrick. etc. vj''.'
The volume came from the press of Thomas Cotes, the
printer who was at the moment the most experienced of any
in the trade in the production of Shakespearean literature.
Cotes had bought in 1^27 and 1610 the large interests in
Shakespeare's plays which had belonged respectively to Isaac
Jaggard and Thomas Pavier. He printed the Second Folio
of 1(^3 2 and a new edition of Pericles in 1(^35-. The device
which figured on the title-page of his edition of Pericles, as
well as on that of Pavier s edition of that play in idip,
reappeared on Benson's edition of the Poems in 1 540.
But, closely associated as the Poems of 1(^40 were. The source
through the printer Cotes, with the current reissues of°^^^"^°"^
» Arber, iv. 46^1.
J 6 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
Shakespeare's works, it may be doubted whether Benson
depended on Thorpe's printed vohime in his confused im-
pression of the sonnets.' The word ' sonnets ', which loomed
so large in Thorpe's edition, finds no place in Benson's. In
the title-pages, in the head-lines, and in the publisher's
< Advertisement ', Benson calls the contents < poems ' or
* lines'. He avows no knowledge of ' Shakespeares Sonnets '.
Thorpe's dedication to Mr. W. H. is ignored. The order in
which Thorpe printed the sonnets is disregarded. Benson
presents his ' poems ' in a wholly different sequence, and
denies them unity of meaning. He offers them to his readers
as a series of detached compositions. At times he runs more
than one together, v/ithout break. But on each detachment
he bestows an independent descriptive heading. The varia-
tions from Thorpe's text, though not for the most part
of great importance, are numerous.
The separate titles given by Benson to the detached
sonnets represent all the poems save three or four to be
addressed to a woman. For example, that which Thorpe
numbered CXXII is entitled by Benson, < Vpon the receit
of a Table Booke from his Mistris^ and that which Thorpe
numbered CXXV is headed, ' An intreatie for her acceptance.'
A word of the text is occasionally changed in order to bring
it into accord with the difference of sex. In Sonnet CIV. i,
Benson reads ^ faire love ' instead of Thorpe's < faire friend ',
and in CVIII. f, < sweet love' for Thorpe's « sweet boy'.
' Benson's preface ' To the Reader ' is not very clearly phrased, but he
gives no indication that the poems, which he now offers his public, were
reprinted from any existing publication. His opening words run : —
' I here presume (under favour) to present to your view, some excellent
and sweetely composed Poems, of Master William Shakespeare, Which in
themselves appeare of the same purity, [as those which] the Authour himselfe
then living avouched • they had not the fortune by reason of their Infancie in
his death, to have the due accomodatio of proportionable glory, with the rest
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE ^7
But it is surprising how rare is any alteration of this kind
necessary in order to adapt the sonnets to a woman's fascina-
tions. Sonnet XX, which is unmistakably addressed to a man,
is headed <■ The Exchange ', and Sonnet X X VI, which begins
< Lord of my love ', is headed ' A dutiful message '. But
such other headings as, «In Prayse of his Love,' <An address
to his scornefuU Loue,' 'Complaint for his Loues absence,'
< Self-flattery of her beauty,' &c., which are all attached to
sonnets in what is known as the first section of Thorpe's
volume, present no inherent difficulty to the reader's mind.
The superscriptions make it clear that Benson did not dis-
tinguish the sonnets from amatory poems of a normal type.
Benson's text seems based on some amateur collection
of pieces of manuscript poetry, which had been in private
circulation. His preface implies that the sonnets and poems
in his collection were not among those which he knew Shake-
speare to have 'avouched' (i. e. publicly acknowledged) in his
lifetime. By way of explaining their long submergence, he
hazards a guess that they were penned very late in the
dramatist's life. John Warren, who contributes new com-
mendatory lines (< Of Mr. William Shakespear ') for Benson's
edition, writes of the sonnets as if the reader was about to
make their acquaintance for the first time.' He says of them
that they
Will make the learned still admire to see
The Muses' gifts so fully infused on thee.
of his everliving Workes.' ' Overliving'— the epithet which Thorpe applied to
Shakespeare — was in too common use as a synonym for ' immortal ' to make
it needful to assume that Benson borrowed it from Thorpe (cf. Shakespeare,
/ Henry Vl^ iv. 3. 5-1, ' That ever-livhig man of memorie Henry the Fifth ').
' The other piece of commendatory verse by Leonard Diggcs confines
itself to an enthusiastic account of Shakespeare's continued hold on the stage,
and to the playgoer's preference of his work over that of Ben Jonson.
H
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
Eighteenth-
century edi-
tions of the
sonnets.
The theory that the publisher Benson sought his copy
elsewhere than in Thorpe's treasury is supported by other
considerations. Sonnets CXXXVIII and CXLIV, which take
the thirty-first and thirty-second places respectively in Benson's
volume, ignore Thorpe's text, and follow that of Jaggard's
Passionate Pilgrim (if 9 9 or l6l^). The omission of eight
sonnets tells the same tale. Among these are one of the
most beautiful, < Shall I compare thee to a summer's day } '
No. XVIII, and the twelve-lined lyric numbered CXXVI,
which some critics have interpreted as intended by Shakespeare
to form the envoy to the sonnets addressed to the man. It is
difficult to account for the exclusion of these two poems, and
six others (Nos. XIX, XLIII, LVI, LXXV, LXXVI, and
XCVI), except on the assumption that Benson's compiler had
not discovered them.
Whatever may have been the source of Benson's text, his
edition of them, although it was not reprinted till 1710, prac-
tically superseded Thorpe's effort for more than a hundred
years.' The sonnets were ignored altogether in the great
editions of Shakespeare which appeared in the early years
of the eighteenth century. Neither Nicholas Rowe, nor
Pope, nor Theobald, nor Hanmer, nor Warburton, nor
Capell, nor Dr. Johnson, included them in their respective
collections of Shakespeare's plays. None of these editors,
save Capell, showed any sign of acquaintance with them.
In collections of * Shakespeare's Poems ' forming supplemen-
tary volumes to Rowe's and Pope's edition of the plays,
^ In i()y4- there was issued a catalogue of books '^ printed for Humphrey
Moseley and are to be sold at his Shop at the Prince's Armes in St. Pauleys
Churchyard'. Among the books noticed is 'Poems written by Mr. William
Shakespeare Gent.' The entry suggests that Moseley caused to be printed
and published a new issue of Shakespeare's poem?, but there is no trace of
any such edition.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE f9
which came out under independent editorship in the years
17 1 Q and i72f respectively, and were undertaken by inde-
pendent publishers, the whole of Benson's volume of 1^40
was reprinted j the sonnets were not separated from the
chaff that lay about them there.' The volumes which were
issued in the middle of the century under such titles as
< Poems on several occasions, by Shakespeare' (175-0?) or
< Poems. Written by Mr. William Shakespeare' (177;), again
merely reproduce Benson's work.
Only one publisher in the early years of the century Limott's
showed any acquaintance with Thorpe's version. In 1710 ^15*""^°
Bernard Lintott included an exact reprint of it in the edition,
second volume of his <A Collection of Poems (by Shake- ^^°'
speare) '. But no special authority attached to Lintott's
reprint in the critical opinion of the day, and even Lintott
betrayed the influence of Benson's venture by announcing
on his title-page that 'Shakespeare's one hundred and fifty-
four Sonnets ' were * all hi praise of bis mistress '.
It was not until 1766 that the critical study of Steevens'
Shakespeare's sonnets can be said to have begun. In that JtfJ^"^'
year Steevens included an exact reprint, of his copy of
Thorpe's edition of 160^ (with the Wright imprint), in the
fourth volume of his * Twenty of the Plays of Shake-
speare, Being the whole Number printed in Quarto During
his Life-time, or before the Restoration, Collated where
there were different Copies and Publish'd from the Origi-
nals '. The only comment that Steevens there made on the
' Charles Gildon, the editor of the supplementary volume of 17 10, whose
work was freely appropriated by Dr. Sewell, the editor oF the supplementary
volume of 17x5", denied that any of Shakespeare's poems were sent to press
before 1^40, and refuted doubts of their authenticity on internal evidence only.
Of the sonnets or 'Epigrams', as he .calls them, he remarks: 'There is
a wonderful smoothness in many of them that makes the Blood dance to its
numbers' (p. '\-6i).
H 2
6o SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
sonnets was that ' the consideration ' that they made their
appearance with Shakespeare's name, and in his lifetime,
* seemed to be no slender proof of their authenticity '. Of
their literary vakie, Steevens announced shortly afterwards
a very low opinion. He excluded them from his revision
of Johnson's edition of the plays which came out in
1778.
Maione's Malonc ptoduccd the first critical edition of the sonnets
cdkion"^^^ in 1780, in his 'Supplement to the Edition of Shakespeare's
1780. Plays published in 1778', vol. i. This revision of Thorpe's
text proved of the highest value. Steevens supplied some
notes and criticisms, and in the annotations on Somiet
CXXVII, Malone and he engaged in a warm controversy,
which occupied nearly six pages of small type, regarding
the general value of Shakespeare's sonnets. A year before
Steevens borrowed of Malone a volume containing first editions
of the So?mets and Lucrece. On returning it to its owner,
he pasted on a blank leaf a rough sketch in which Shake-
speare is seen to be addressing William Atkinson, Maione's
medical attendant, in these words : —
If thou couldst. Doctor, cast
The water of my sonnets, find their disease.
Or purge my editor, till he understood them,
I would applaud thee, &c.'
Steevens now insisted that < quaintness obscurity and
tautology ' were inherent * in this exotik species of com-
' The volume containing this drawing is in the Malone collection in the
Bodleian Library (Mai. 34). It contains the following note in Maione's hand-
writing : — 'Mr. Steevens bonowed this volume from me in 1779 to peruse The
Rape of Lucrece in the original edition, of which he was not possessed. When
he returned it, he made this drawing. I was then confined by a sore throat,
and was attended by Mr. Atkinson, the Apothecary, of whom the above figure,
whom Shakespeare addresses, is a caricature. — E. M.'
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 6i
position '. Malonc, in reply, confessed no enthusiasm for
Shakespeare's sonnets, but claimed for their < beautiful lines '
a rare capacity for illustrating the language of the plays.
He agreed that their ardent expressions of esteem could
alone, with propriety, be addressed to a woman.
About the same date, Capell, who gave Malone some
assistance, carefully revised in manuscript Thorpe's text,
as it appeared in Lintott's edition of 1710. But his
revised text remains unpid")lished in the library of Trinity
College, Cambridge. Steevens was to the end irreconcilable,
and in an Advertisement prefixed to his last edition of Shake-
speare, 1793, he justified his continued exclusion of the sonnets
from Shakespeare's works on the ground that the < strongest
Act of Parliament that could be framed would fail to compel
readers into their service '.' The sonnets figured in Thorpe's
text, revised by Malone, in the latter's edition of Shakespeare's
works of 1790, in the Variorum of 1803, and in all the
leading editions of Shakespeare's works that have been
published since.
The reasoned and erudite appreciation, which distin- Nincteenth-
guished eighteenth-century criticism of Shakespearean drama, ^ri
gives historic interest to its perverse depreciations or grudging
commendations of the Sonnets. Not till the nineteenth
century was reached, did the tones of apology or denunciation
cease. Nineteenth-century critics of eminence with a single
exception soon reached a common understanding in regard
to the transcendent merit of the poetry. Hazlitt, alone of
* Steevens added : ' These miscellaneous poems have derived every
possible advantage from the literature and judgement of their only intelligent
editor, Mr. Malone, whose implements of criticism, like the ivory rake and
golden spade in Prudentius, are on this occasion disgraced by the objects of
their culture. Had Shakespeare produced no other works than these, his name
would have reached us with as little celebrity as time has conferred on that of
Thomas Watson, an older and much more elegant sonneteer.'
century
riticisin.
6z SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
the great Shakespearean critics of the past century, declined
to commit himself without damaging reserves to the strain
of eulogy. At the same time differences have continued to
prevail as to the precise significance of the poems, even
amongst those whose poetic insight entitle their opinion to
the most respectful hearing. Coleridge and Robert Browning-
refused to accept the autobiographic interpretation which
commended itself to Wordsworth and Shelley. Great weight
was attached to Hallam's censure of the literal theory: 'There
is a weakness and folly in all excessive and misplaced affection,
which is not redeemed by the touches of nobler sentiments
that abound in this long series of sonnets.' The controversy
is not yet ended. But the problem, in the present writer's
opinion, involves in only a secondary degree vexed questions
of psychology or aesthetics. The discussion must primarily
resolve itself into an historical inquiry respecting the con-
ditions and conventions which moulded the literary expression
of sentiment and passion in Elizabethan England.
VI
Census of CoPiES of thc i6o^ cditiou of the Sonnets are now very
copi 's. scarce. A somewhat wide study of sale catalogues of the past
I yo years reveals the presence in the book market of barely
a dozen during that period. Many years have passed since a
copy was sold at public auction, and the only recent evidence of
the selling value of the book is the fact that the copy No. IX,
iiifra^ which was sold by public auction in 1864 for ^2 2 5- i js. o.'/.,
was acquired privately, a quarter of a century later, by a collector
of New York for a thousand pounds. Of the eleven traceable
copies which are enumerated below, one lacks the title-page,
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
^5
—M— n«»n»»iiK.i
^'0 Xh^ ^.
1
.;^I ^
H.
"-'^
^■jf^ »»»i
-■tff'vrf^ I rrinjfl
>s.ii„i&*-tW»-
6. Eld tor T*C and am
t<?be iotflc by.iW;^ filing
•^x Qhuil C hi. • ,. ^ ^^.v*. .-
■K.
64 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
and two have facsimile title-pages- of the remaining eight,
three have the Aspley imprint and five the Wright imprint.
Of the eleven copies, eight are in England, and three in
private libraries in America. Of the British copies six are
in public collections. The Earl of Ellesmere and Mr. Hiith
seem to be the only private English owners.'
The Edition The original edition of Shakespeare's Sojinets appeared
OF 1609. yj'ix\i two title-pages varying in the name of the bookseller in
Descnpnon. ^j^^ imprint. One issue ran : —
SHAKE-SPEARES : SONNETS | Neuer before Im-
printed. I AT LONDON | By G. Eld for T. T. and are | to be
solde by William Aspley. \ 160^.
The title-page of the other issue ran : —
SHAKES-PEARES | SONNETS | Neuer before Im-
printed. I AT LONDON | By G. Eld for T. T. and are | to be
solde by lohn Wright^ dwelling | at Christ Church gate. ! 160^.
The volume is printed in quarto, containing in all forty
leaves. Signature A, consisting of two leaves only, contains
the title-page and dedication. The text of the So/mets begins
on signature B and ends on K recto. On K verso begins
< A Louers complaint. | By | William Shake-speare ', and it ends
with the close of the volume on L2 verso. Thus the signatures
run : — A (two leaves), B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, K in fours, and
L (two leaves). There is no pagination j the leaves Ai, A 2,
C4, D4, E4, F4, G4, H4, I4, are unsigned.
No. I. Of the copies in the British ^Museum, that in the Grenville
British
Museum. * It is impossible to determine whether the three copies mentioned in the
following sale catalogues can be rightly identified with any of the eleven
enumerated copies, or whether they had, and have, a separate existence : —
I. A copy in the library of Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford, which was
sold by the bookseller Osborn, of Gray's Inn, in 174.x.
a. A copy in the Duke of Marlborough's library at White Knights, sold in
i8ic,for^37.
3. A copy in the collection of James Boswell the younger, which was sold
in 1825- for ^38 ijs. od.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 6f
collection (G. 11181), measuring d|" x 4I" and bound in red TheEdition
morocco, is in fine condition. This has the Aspley imprint. ^^ '^°9-
A few pages are stained. This is possibly the copy with ^[""^
Aspley imprint, priced at ^30 in Messrs. Longman's sale list, (CrenviUe)
Bibliotheca Jnglo-Poetica^ 1 8 1 f, p. 301, which fetched £\o 19/. od. copy,
at the sale of a portion of John Bellingham Inglis' library in
June, \%^6.
The second Museum copy (C. 21. c. 44), which measures No. 11.
7-^" X f-/'-. has the title-page and last leaf in a dirty con- ?!'""'*
.} ^. ,' ' 1 . . f o J Museum
dition, but otherwise it is a good copy. Some pages are (Bright)
mended. It is bound in yellow morocco. It was apparently copy.
sold with the library of B. H. Bright in 1845- for ^34 ioj-. od.
It has the Wright imprint. It was reproduced in Shakspere-
Quarto Facsimiles, No. 3c, by Charles Praetorius in \%%6.
Of the two copies in the Bodleian Library, the one which No. in.
is reproduced here belongs to the Malone collection and is ?^'*^''^"
bound up with the first edition of Lucrece. It has the Aspley copy°"
imprint, and measures y^e' ^ ^'t?"? being inlaid on paper
measuring pf" x 7f". Malone acquired the volume in April,
1779) P^yii^g twenty guineas for the two quartos.' He lent
the volume to Steevens in the same year. Malone subsequently
inlaid and bound up the two tracts with quarto editions
of Hamlet (ido?), of Lovers Labour "^s Lost (15-98), of Pericles
[160^ and i<^i9), and A Torkshire Tragedy (ido8). The whole
volume was labelled ' Shakespeare Old Quartos, Vol. III.' It is
now numbered Malone 34.
The second Bodleian copy was presented by Thomas No. I v.
Caldecott, and is now numbered Malone %%6. The volume ?^^,j'^"
is bound up with if 9 4 editions of Venus and Adojiis and copy.
Lucrece^ which it follows. It has several manuscript notes in
Caldecott's handwriting, chiefly dealing with misprints and
illustrations from the plays. The copy has been cut down
by the binder. It measures <5|" x 47^", and the date of
the title-page, which bears Wright's name, has been cut off".
A copy in the Capell collection at Trinity College, no. v»
' The Earl of Charlemont's MSS., i. 343 (in Knt. Comm. MSS. Report),
I
66
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
TheEdition
OF 1609.
Trinity
College,
Cambridge,
copy.
No. VI.
The John
Rylands
Library
copy.
No. VII.
The Bridge-
water House
copy.
Cambridge, is defective, wanting eight leaves (A 1-2, Bi,
K2-L2) including the title. The missing pages are supplied
in manuscript by Capell, who transcribed a Wright title-page.
The volume measures 7" x f".
The John Rylands Library, in Manchester, contains
a very fine copy which was acquired with Lord Spencer's
Althorp collection, in 1892. It measures 7j'x-^'\ and has
the Wright imprint. Earl Spencer purchased it in 1798, at
the sale of Dr. Richard Farmer's library, for ^8. It is in
excellent condition, and is bound by Roger Payne in green
morocco. Two peculiarities give the copy exceptional interest.
On the last page of the volume, below the ornament, is the
following manuscript note, in a somewhat ornamental hand-
writing of the early seventeenth century : — < Comendacons to
my very kind & approued fFreind 23 : M : '. The numeral and
capital at the end of the inscription may be the autograph of
the donor in cipher, or may indicate the date of gift, Marcli
or May 23. Nothing is known of the history of this inscrip-
tion, and there is no internal or external evidence to associate
it in any way with Shakespeare. The copy was clearly pre-
sented by one friend to another about the date of publication.
Another manuscript note in the volume is of more normal
character. At the top of the title-page — to the left above the
ornament — is the symbol < 5-^ ' written in the same hand as the
inscription at the end. There is no doubt that this repre-
sents the cost of the volume, and it is curious to note that
Edward Alleyn records in his account-book for June, 1(^09,
that he paid fivepence for a copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets.
The suggestion based on this fact that the Spencer copy
originally belonged to Alleyn seems hazardous.'
An interesting history attaches to the copy in the library
of the Earl of Ellesmere at Bridgewater House. Originally
acquired by the second Earl of Bridgewater, it was sold by
* Cf. Dibdin's Aedes Althorpianae, i. 194,. Mr. Guppy, the librarian of
the John Rylands library, has kindly given me a very full description of this
volume and careful tracings of the manuscript inscriptions.
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 67
the last Duke of Bridgewater in 1802, apparently on the TheEdition
erroneous assumption that he owned another copy. It was '^^ '^'=*9-
then bought by George Chalmers for £1. At the sale of
Chalmers' library, in 1842, it was repurchased for the library
at Bridgewater House by the first Earl of Ellesmere, grand-
father of the third Earl, the present owner, for jfioy.
This copy was reproduced in photo-zincography, under the
direction of Sir Henry James, in 1852. It has the Aspley
title-page. It is in eighteenth-century binding. The measure-
ments are 7-' x fl".
The copy belonging to A. H. Huth has the Wright No. viil
imprint. It was for many years in the Bentinck library '^^'^ ^"^'^
at Varel, near Oldenburg, and formed part of a volume of ^^^^'
tracts which had been bound together in 1728. The volume
was first noticed by Professor Tycho Mommsen in 18 ^-y,
when the Bentinck library was dispersed by sale. It was
purchased by Halliwell[-Phillipps], but was sold at a sale of his
books in 185-8, when it was acquired by Henry Huth, father of
the present owner, (through the bookseller Lilly) for £ij;^
7s. od. The copy is somewhat dirty, the top margins are cut
close, and some of the print in the headlines is shaved.'
O^ the copies in America, the most interesting belongs No. ix
to Mr. E. Dwight Church of New York. It has the Wright JJ^^J^'^'^'''
imprint, is bound in brown morocco by Charles Lewis, and copy
measures 6~' x f . At the end of the seventeenth century it
was purchased by Narcissus Luttrell for one shilling. It sub-
sequently belonged to George Steevens, whose autograph it
bears, and it was sold in 1800 at the sale of Steevens' library
for ^3 19/. od. It was then acquired by the Duke of Rox-
burghe, at the sale of whose library in 181 2 it fetched
' A copy of Shakespeare's 'Poems and Sonnets' dated 160^ is mentioned
in the manuscript catalogue of the library of Earl Howe, at Gopsall, Leicester-
shire. The library was bequeathed, with the Gopsall property, to Lord Howe's
ancestor, William Penn Assheton Curzon, by Charles Jennens, the virtuoso,
and friend of Handel, in 1773. But the earliest edition of the Sonnets in Lord
Howe's library at Gopsall proves on examination (which Lord Howe invited
me there to make) to be Lintott's edition of 17 10— in which the title-page of
the 160^ edition of the Sonnets is reproduced.
I 2
68 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
TheEdition £ii IOJ-. od. It was again sold at Evans' sale rooms in
OF i6oy. ^ valuable collection of 'Books of a Gentleman gone abroad ',
on Jan. 25-, 1830, for ^29 loj-. 6d.y and was afterwards acquired
by George Daniel, whose monogram G. D. is stamped on the
cover. It fetched at the Daniel sale of 1 864 ^225- 1 5-/. od.^ and
afterwards passed into the collection of Almon W. Griswold of
New York. Mr. Church purchased it of Mr. Griswold through
Dodd, Mead 6c Co. of New York in 1889 for £1^000
(fjooo dollars). The title-page is reproduced in facsimile in
the Grolier Club's <■ Catalogue of original and early editions ',
1895-, p. 185-.
No. X. Mr. F. R. Halsey, of New York, is the owner of the copy
The Haisey formerly belonging to Frederick Locker Lampson, of Rowfant,
iSv at' which was sold to Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Co. of New York in
Rowfant. Jan. 1905-. This copy has the Aspley imprint. It seems to be
the ' imperfect ' copy sold at the Jolley sale in London in
1 8 44 for ^33;' and successively in the libraries of Edward
Vernon Utterson, at whose sale in 18 f 2 it fetched ^30 5-/. od.;
of J. O. Halliwell[-Phillipps], who sold it for £^1 in i8y5,
when it was acquired by Sir William Tite. At the Tite sale
in I 874 it seems to have been bought by Messrs. Ellis & White
for the late Frederick Locker Lampson for £1^1 os. od. The
title and dedication are supplied in admirable facsimile by
Harris. The volume is bound in extra-morocco by J. Clarke.
No. XI. A third copy in America, which belongs to Mr. W. A.
The White White of Brooklyn, also has the title-page and dedication in
copy. facsimile. It measures 6~' x f\ The volume was bound by
Charles Lewis and acquired by the present owner in New
York in 188 7.
PoLMs OF The edition of 1(^40 is an octavo of ninety -seven leaves
1^40. without pagination, and is made up in two distinct parts —
' Dibdin writes somewhat mysteriously of JoUey's copy, despite its imper-
fections, thus : ' The history of the acquisition of the Jolley copy is one of
singular interest, almost sufficient to add another day to a bibliographical
decameron. The copy is in pristine condition, and looks as if snatched from
the press.' Bound up with the Fenus and Adonis of 1 5-94 (see Vejim and Adonis^
Census No. II, British Museum copy), it was acquired by Jolley for a few pence
in a Lancashire ramble.
Desciiptior
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 6^
the first of five leaves and the second of ninety-two. The Poems of
first part, of five leaves, is supplementary to the rest of the ^^'^°-
work. On the third and fourth leaves are respectively The suppic-
the signatures *2, *3, a form of signature which indicates that '"^"'^.^'t
the sheet to which it is attached was prepared and printed pagcs"^
after the rest of the volume was ready for the press. These
supplementary pages contain a frontispiece facing the title,
presenting a carefully-elaborated cut of the Droeshout
engraving of the First Folio signed ' W. M. Sculpsit '. The
cngraxer was William Marshall, an artist of repute. The
lower half of the plate is occupied by eight lines of verse,
of which the first six consist of three couplets drawn at
haphazard from Ben Jonson's eulogy in the First Folio. The
concluding couplet —
For ever live thy fame, the world to tell.
Thy like no age shall ever parallel.
alone seems original.' The title-page of the supplementary
leaves rims : —
Poems: \ Written ; by Wil. Shake-speare 1 Gent. \ [Printer's
device with motto * Fleb. Ddim. Heb. Ddiev.'] Printed at Lon-
don by Tho. Cotes^ and are to be sold by lohn Benson^ dwelling
in I St. Dunstmi^s Church-yard. 1 6\o.
On leaf *2 begins < Address to the Reader', signed I. B.,
i.e. John Benson, the publisher and bookseller. On leaf *3
begins a piece of commendatory verse ' Vpon Master William
Shakespeare, the Deceased Authour, and his Poems ' occupying
three pages and signed * Leon. Digges '. On the back of leaf
*4 are seven commendatory couplets headed ' Of Mr. William
Shakespeare ' and signed John Warren. There the first part
of the volume ends.
The second and substantive portion of the volume The sub-
follows immediately. It begins with a second title-page, ^Jj'^'l^^^'of
identical at all points with the first, save for the omission the book.
of the date, 1^40, in the last line. This title is printed on
' The first three couplets are respectively Jonson's lines 17, i8, 47, 48,
and 3, 4.
70 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE
Poems of the first leaf of a sheet bearing the signature A. The text
1^40. begins on a leaf which is signed A 2, and headed < Poems
by Wil. Shake-speare, Gent.' Thenceforth the signatures
are regularly marked, viz. A 2, A3-M4 in eights. The
contents become very miscellaneous and are by many hands
after leaf G (recto), on which appears Shakespeare's last
sonnet, CLIV. After an interval of four leaves, on Gf (verso)
begins A Lovers Complaint^ which finishes on H2 (verso), and
is succeeded by Heywood's two < Epistles ' from The Passionate
Pilgrim of 1612. (H3 recto -K 4 recto). The following leaves
down to Li (verso) are successively occupied by Marlowe's
poem, <Liue with me and be my loue ', with Raleigh's
reply (in the text, not of The Passionate Pilgrim but of
England? s Helicon) ; another [reply] of the same nature (from
England'* s Helicmi) ; ' Take oh take those lippes away ' (from
Fletcher's Bloody Brother in two stanzas, of which the first only
appeared in Pleasure for Measure^ iv. i. i-<^); 'Let the bird of
lowest lay' with the <Threnes' (from Chester's Loves Martyr^
I (^01, where it is assigned to Shakespeare); 'Why should this
a Desart be' (from Js Ton Like Ity iii. 2. 133-52); Milton's
Epitaph from the Second Folio; Basse's sonnet from the
First Folio ; and a previously unprinted ' Elegie on the death
of that famous Writer and Actor, Mr. William Shakespeare '.
On signature L2 (recto) is introduced a new section headed:
'An addition of some excellent poems, to those precedent, of
renowned Shakespeare, by other gentlemen.' Sixteen separate
poems follow with the following titles: 'His Mistresse Drawne',
signed B. L. ; ' Her minde ', signed B[en] I[onson] ; ' To Ben.
lohnson ', signed F[rancis] B[eaumont] ; ' His Mistris Shade '
(from Herrick's Hesferides)\ ' Lavinia walking in a frosty
morning'; 'A Sigh sent to his Mistresse'; 'An Allegorical
allusion of melancholy thoughts to Bees ', signed L G. ; 'The
Primrose' (from Herrick's Hesperides)-^ 'A Sigh' (by Thomas
Carew); 'A Blush'; ' Orpheus Lute '; 'Am I dispis'd because
you say' (from Herrick's Hesperides)\ ' Vpon a Gentlewoman
walking on the Grasse'; 'On his Love going to Sea'
(assigned to Carew) ; and ' Aske me no more where loue
SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 71
bestovves ' (by Carew). A typed facsimile of the 1^40 Poems of
volume was issued by Alfred Russell Smith in iSSf. ^^^o-
The volume is comparatively common. The earliest Jhe copies
mention of its sale by auction was in KJ83, but the price jjjjf^j'jej*^
it fetched is unknown. It sold for a shilling at Dr. Francis
Bernard's sale in i588. Just a century later a copy fetched
9J-. at Thomas Pearson's sale. The highest price it has yet
reached at public auction is -fiotf, which was realized at the
Turner sale in June, 1888. Smce that date a dozen copies, in
very varying condition, have been publicly sold at lower
prices. Copies are in the following public libraries in England:
The British Museum, two copies (one in Grenville collection,
measuring Stz" ^ 3^6-") ^^'^^ ^^^y C- 3 9- ^' 4o> without portrait) ;
Bodleian Library, Oxford, Malone collection ; Trinity Col-
lege, Cambridge, Capell collection, measuring y^" x 3I-" j the
Shakespeare Memorial Library, Birmingham j and the Shake-
speare Memorial Library, Stratford-on-Avon.
In America the public libraries possessing copies include :
New York Public Library (Lenox collection), Boston Public
Library (Barton collection).
Among private owners in America Mr. Robert Hoe of
New York owns the very fine copy, bound by Charles Lewis,
measuring S-h" '^ l\'\ which fetched £106 at the sale in
London at Sotheby's on June 18, 1888, of the library of
Robert Samuel Turner. Heber's (imperfect) copy is now the
property of Mr. H. H. Furness of Philadelphia.
SHAKE-SPEARES
SONNET S.
C
^v::. W
Ncucr before Impriaccd.'^
^/ .-^^
AT LONDON
By y^J?/^ for r. 7". and arc
oobc iblde by wilBsm^^Uy.
TO. THE. ON LIE. BEGETTER. OF.
THESE .INS VING. SON NETS.
M^W. H. ALL.HAPPINESSE.
AN D. TH AT. E TERN I TIE.
PROMISED.
BY.
OVR. EVER LI VING, POET.
VVISHETH.
THE.VVELL.WISHING.
ADVENTVRER .IN.
SETTING.
FORTH.
T.T.
S H A K E^S P E A RES^
SONNETS.
FRom faireft creatures wc dcfirc incrca/e.
That thereby beauties Rofi might ncuer Sc,
But as the riper fhould by time deccafe.
His tender heirc might bearc hi$ memory:
But thou contra6lcd to thine owne bright eyes,
Fecd'ft thy lights flame with felfe fubflantiaUfcvvelJ,
Making a famine where aboundance lies.
Thy fclfe thy foc,to thy fweet felfe too cruelJ:
Thou that art now the w otlds frefli ornament.
And only hcrauld to the gaiidv fpring,
Within thine owne bud burieit thy content.
And tender chorle makft wali in niggarding:
Pitty the world.or clfe this glutton be,
To cate the worlds due,by the graue and thee.
2
\7^\7^^n fortie Winters fliall befeige thy brow.
And diggc deep trenches in thy beauties field.
Thy y outhcs proud liucry fo gaz'd on now,
Wil be a totter'd weed offinal worth held:
Then being asktjwhere all thy beautic lies.
Where all the treafure of thy lufty daies;
To fay within thine owne deepc funkcn eyes.
Were an all-cating {}iame,and thriftleflc praifc.
How much more praife deferu'd thy beauties vfe.
If thou couldft anfwere this faire child of mine
Shall fum my count,and make my old excuTc
Proouing his beauucby fucccfTion thine.
B 5nii«
SHAKB'Sri AIRES
This were to be n cvv made when thou art ould,
And fee thy blood warmf when thofl fccl'ft it could,
LOokcin thy glaflc and tell the ftce thou vc weft,
Now is the time that face fliOHld forme an other,,
Whofcircfh-rcpaicc if now thou not rcneweft,
Tiiou doo'ft beguile the world^vnbleffe fome mother..
For where is (ht fo ftirc whofe vn-eard wombc
Difdaincs the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he fo fond will be the torabc.
Of his fclfc loue to ftop pofterity?
Thou art thy mothers glafle and fhe in thee.
Calls backe theioueJy April! of her prime,
So thou through windowes of thine age flialt fee,.
Difpight of wrinkles this thy gouldcn time.
But if thou liuc remembred not to be,
Dicfingic and- thine Image dies with thee,.
4
VNthrirty.loucIincfTe why do(\ thou /pcnd,.
Vponthy fclfc thy.beauties legacy?
Natures bequeft giues nothing but doth lend.
And being franck (he lends to thofe arc free:
Then beautious nigard why dooft thou abufc,
Thcbountious largefle giucnthee togiuc?.
Profitlcs vferer why do oft thou vie
So greatafummeof fummcsyct can'ftnotliue?
For hauing traffikc with thy fclfe alone.
Thou of thy felfe thy fwect felfe doft deceaue,.
Then how when nature calls thee tobe gone.
What acceptable tyfttdir can'ft thou Icaue?
Thy vnufd beauty muft be tomb'd with thee.
Which, vfed liucsth'cxccutor to be.
THofc bowers that with gentle worke did frame.
The loucly gaze where cuery eye doih 4 weU
Will play the:i;:*nis to thcvery fame,
' ■' And
Son KET $,
Ami that vnfaire which faircly doth cjccclli
For ncucr rclling time leads Siitnmcr on,
To hidious wintcrand confounds him thrrc.
Sap chcckc wid) trod and lurtic lcau*$ quite goa*
Beauty orc-fnow'd and barencs euery whcrc-
Then were not fummers d'tflillation left
A hquid prifoncr pent in walls of cbfle,
Beauties cffcd with beauty were bereft.
Nor it nor noc remembrance what it was.
But flowers dilhl'd though they with winter me«|r,
Lecfc but their niow,thcir fubflancc ftill liuei fwccu
6
THcn let not w inters wragged hand deface.
In thee thy fummer ere tliou be diftil d:
Make fvvcet fomc viall;trcafurc thou fome placc^
With beauties treafurc etc it bcfclfc kil'd:
That vie is not forbidden vfery.
Which happies thofc that pay the willing lone;
That's for thy fclfc to breed an ether thee.
Or ten times happier be it ten for one.
Ten times thy felfe were happier then thou art.
If ten of thine ten times rengur'd ihce.
Then what could death doc if thou fhould'ft depart,
Ltauing thee liuing in polterityj*
Be not felfc-wild for thou art niucii too faire.
To be deaths conqueft and make wormes tiiinc bcire,
7
LOe in the Orient when tlic gracious light,
Lifts vp his burning hcad,e3ch vmlcr eye
Doth homage to his new appearing hght,
Seruing with lookcs his facred maicHy,
And hailing climb'd the ftcenc vp heauenly hiJl^
Refembling ftrong youth in lus middle age,
Tet mort.ill lookes adore his beauty ftiU,
Attending on his goulden pilpri.hagc:
But Yv hen from bigU-moll pun with vvery car.
SHAKl*$4>BAtEI i
tike feeble age he reelcth from the day, \
The eyc$(fore dutiou«)now conucrtcd are
From his low traft and looke an other way: j
So thou,thy fclfc out-going in thy noon: !
VnlokM on dicft vnlcdc thou get a fonnc. |
S I
MVfick to hcarc,why hear'ft thou mufick fadly, i
Sweets with fwcets warrc not , ioy deh'ghts in ioy: -
Why lou'ft thou that which thou reccauft not gladly, |
Of clfe retcau'ft withoIca(urc thine annoy ?
If the true cohcord ot well tuned founds^ j
By vnions married do offend thine eare, ]
They do but fwcetly chide thee, who confounds \
In finglenclTe the parts that thou fhould'ft bcare.- • ]
Marke how one ftring fweet hu»band to an other.
Strikes each in each by mucuall ordering;
Refembling fier,and child, and happy mother, i
Who all in on€,one plcafing note do ling:.
Whofe fpeechlcflfe fon& being many,lcemin^ one, j
Sings this to thee thou fiiigle wilt proue none. j
9' j
IS it for feare to wet a widdowes eye.
That thou confum'ft thy felfe in tingle life?' j
Ahii^ thou ilTulefle (halt hap tadie, j
The world will waile thee like a makeletfe wi/e,.
The world wilbc thy widdow and ftill wcejpe,.
That thou no fonnc of thee haft teft behind , i
When euery priuat widdow well may keepe.
By childrcns eyes,her husbands fhape in minde:-
Looke what an vnthrift in the world dodi fpendl |
Shifts but his place,for ftill the world inioyes it I
But beauties waftei hath in the world an end.
And kept vnvfde the vfcr fo deftroyes it:
No loue toward others in that bofome fits '
That on hlmfelfc fucb murdious jthame committ* I
Sonnets.
lo
FOrriiamc deny that tVi i bcar'f>loiicto any
Who for thy fclfe art fo vnprouidcnt
Craunt ifthou wlIt,thou art bclou'd of many,
But that thou none lou ft is moft euidcnt:
For thou art fo poffeft with murdrous hate.
That gainft thy felfc thou ftickft not to confpire,
Seeking that beautious roofe to ruinate
Which to rcpaire fhould be thy chiefe defirc :
O change thy thought,that I may change my mindc,
Shall hate be fairer log'd then gentle loue?
Be as thy prcfence is graci ous and kind,
Or to thy fclfe at leaft kind harted prouc.
Make thee an other felfe for loue of me.
That beauty ftill may Hue in thine or thee,
II
AS fart as thou fhait wane fo faft thou grow'ft.
In one ofthine,from that which thou departed.
And that frefli bloud which yongly thou beftow'ft.
Thou maiit call thine, when thou from youth conuertcft.
Herein lines \\ifdoirc,beauty,and increafc.
Without this follie,age,and could decay,
Ifall Were minded fo,the times fhould ceafe,
And thrccf oorcyeare would make the world away:
Let thofe whom nature hath not made for ftore,
Harfii,featurele{re,and rude , barrenly perrifli,
Locke whom flic beft indow'd,rhe gaue the more;
Which bountious guift thou fhouldft in bounty cherrifii.
She caru'd thee for her fcalc,and ment therby,
Thou fhouldft print more,not let that coppy die.
12
'\7 \7Hen 1 doe count the clock that tels the time,
And fee the braue day funck in hidious night,
When 1 behold the violet part prime.
And fable curls or llluer'd ore with white :
When lofty trees I fee barren ofleaucs,
Which erft from heat did canopic the herd
B 3 And
S » A Xr--". P E ARE f
And Sommcrs greenc ail girded vp in fheaucs
Borne on the bcare with white and brilUy beard:
Tlicn ot'thy beauty do I quertion make
That thou among the waRcs of time muft goc.
Since fwccts and beauties do thcm-fclues fori'ake.
And die as faft as they fee others grow.
And nothing ^ainft Times fieth can make defence
Sauc breed to brauc liim,ivhen he takes thee hence.
QThat you were your fclfe.but lone you are
No longer yours,then you your felfc here liuc,
Againft this camming end you fliould prepare.
And yourfwect fcmblanceto foir.c other giuc.
So n-iOuld that beauty which you hold m kafc
Find nodtfermination,thenyou were
You fclfc again after your felfcs deceafc.
When your fwect ifluc your fweet forme fFiould bcirc.
Who lets fo faire ahoufc fall to decay,
Which husbandrv in honour might vphold,
Againti ti;c (hjiiTiy ^ulii cfwiiucrs day
And barren rage of deaths cternall cold?
O none but vnthrifts,dcarc my louc you know.
You had a Fatherjiet your Son fay fo.
H
NOt fro n the ftars do I my iudgement plucke,
And yet me thinkes I Iiaue Aftronomyj
But not to tell ofgoodjOr euil lucke,
Ofplagucs.of dearths, or fcafons quallity.
Nor can J fortune to brcefe mynuits tell;
Poniting to each ins thunder, raine and wiadc.
Or fay with Princes if it fhal go wcl
By of: prcdid that I in heaucn findc.
But from thine cics my know ledge I dfriuf,
And conltaiic ftars m them I re.-^d fuch trt
Ai truth and hrautic fhal together thriuc
If from chy fcit'cig ftorc thou wouldl^ conu?rt)
tt
Sonnets,
Or elfc oftUef this I prognofticatc,
Thy end i> 1 ruthts and Beauties doomc and date,
V\7 Hen T canfider cuery thing that growes
Holds in perfe<^ion but a fittfc moment.
That this huge ftage prcfentcth nought but (howcs
Whereon the Stars id fccrct influence comment.
When I rercciue that men as plant* increafc,
Chcared and chcckt cucn by the felfc-fame skic:
Vaunt in their youthful! fap,at height decrcaTc,
And were their brauc ftatc out of memory.
Then the conceit of this inconrtant flay,
Sets you mcft r ich in youth before my fight.
Where walttull time dcbateth with decay
To change your day of youth to fullicd nightly
And all in war w ith Time for louc of you
As he takes from ycu,I ingraft you new.
16
BVt wherefore do not you a mightier waic
Make warrc vppon this bloudie tirant lime? 1
And fbrtifieyoiir Iclfc ir. your decay
With mcanes more blcflcil then my barren rime?
Now Hand ycu.on the top of happie hourcs.
And many maiden gardens yet -vnfet,
With vertucus wiHi would beareyourliuin'^flowcrf;
Much liker then your painted counterfeit:
So fhould the lines of life that life repajrc
Which this (Times pcnfel or my pupill pen )
Neither in inward worth nor ourward fairc
Can makcyru liuevourfclfe in eiesofmen^
To giuc a.va^ yrur felfe,kceps your Ctlfc ftill,
And yen muft hue drawnc by your owne fwect skill,
17-
^7^ WHa v/ill bclceuc my retfe i:i time to come '
If it were hid v. ith your moft high dcfcrts?
B 4 Though
SHAKE-lSPIAREt
Though yet hcauen knowcs it isbut as a tombc
Which hides your life , and Hicvvcs not halfc your ptrtf x
If I could write the beauty of your eyes.
And in fredi numbers number all your graccf.
The age to come would fay this Poet lies.
Such hcaucniy touches ncrc toucht earthly faces.
So fliould my papers (yellowed with their age)
Be fcornM,likc old men of Icflc truth then tongue,
And your true rights be termd a Poets rage.
And rtrctchcd miter of an Antique fong.
But werefomc childc of yours aUue that time.
You fhould Hue twife in it,and in my rime,
i8.
SHall I compare thcc to a Summers day?
Tiiou art more louely and more temperate:
Rough windcs do ftiake the darling buds of Maic,
And Sommers leaie hath all too fhort a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heauen fhincs.
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd.
And euery faire Som fiire feme-time declines.
By chanccjor nature? changing courle vntrim'd;
But thy eternall Sommcr fhall not fade,
Nor loofe poflefTion of that faire thou ow'ft.
Nor fhall death brag thou wandr'ft in his ftiade.
When in eternal! lines to time thou grow'ft.
So long as men can breath or eyes can fee.
So long Hues this,and this giues life to thee,
IP
DEuouring time blunt thou the Lyops pawcs,
And make the earth dcuourc her ownc fwect broo^,
Pluckc the kecnc teeth from the fierce Tygers yawct,
And butne the long liu'd Pharnix in her blood.
Make glad and forry fcafons as thou flecc'ft,
Anddo what ere thou wilt fwirt-footed time
To the wide world and all her fading fwects;
But I forbid thee one moft hainous crime.
O
S O K N F. T S.
O carue not with thy howers my loucs Taire brow.
Nor draw noc lines there with thine antique pen,
Him in thy courfc vntainted doe allow.
For beauties pattcrne to fucccding men.
Yet doe thy worfi ould Time difpight thy wrong,
My louc fliallinmy vcrfeeucr Hue young.
20
AVVomans face with natures ovvne hand painted.
Hade thou the Mafter Milkis of my paflion,
A womans gentle hart but not acquainted
^'Vith fhiftipg change as is falfc womens fafhion,
An eve more bright then theirs, Icflefalfe inrowling:
Gilding the obieif^ whcrc-vpon it ^azeth,
A man in hew all//if»'j'inhisccntiovv'ling,
Which rtealcs mens eyes and womens foulcs araaieth.
And for a woman vvert thou firft created.
Till nature as fhe wrought thee fell a dotinge,
Aad by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpofc nothing.
But fince fhe prickt thee out for womens pleafure.
Mine be thy loue and ihy loues vfe their trcafure.
21
SO is it not with me as with that Mufe,
Stird by a painted beauty to his verfe.
Who heauen it felfe for ornament doth vfe,
And cuery faire v\ith his faire doth reherfc.
Making a coopelment of proud compare
With Sunncand Moone.with earth and feas rich gcrns:
With Aprills firft borne flowers and all things rare.
That heauens ayre in this huge rondure hems,
O let mc true in loue but truly write.
And then beleeuc me,my loue is as faire.
As any mothers chiIde,though not fo bright
Asthofegould can dells fixt in heauens ayer.*
Let them fay more that like ofheare-fay well,
1 will not pray fe that purpofe not co fell.
C 1,2
S H A K E-S P I A R E $
SI
MY glafTe fhall not pcrf-v ade mc I am oulif,
So long as youth andthou a'cofonc date,
But when in thfc times torrwcs IbcIiOulJ,
Then look 1 death n^y dales fhould expiate.
Forall that beauty that doth couerthee,
Is but the fecmelv raymrnt of my he;ut,
Wnich in thy brctt doth hue,as thine in nic,
Hn.v can T then be elder then diou art?
O chcrtforelouebcoftliy Iclfc Co wary,
As I not tor my rcire,but for ttice v. ill.
Bearing thy heart v^ hich ! v. ill krcpc Co th?ry
As tender nurfe her babe from firing ill,
Prcfume noton t!iy heirt ulien ivnc islliine,
Thou gau'it me ih;nc net to giuc backc againe.
AS an vrpfrfcitai^orontheftagr,
Who with hi> fcarc ispui bcfidcs his part.
Or iomc Here c thing rcpleat \^ iih too much rage,
Waofc Hiengths abondance weaken:. hisoAiic heart;
So ! for foarc of tru(t,forqct to fay.
The perfc'fl- ceremony of louffs right,
And ii mine ownc loues f^f-ength kerne to decay,
Orc-cliarg'd with burthen of mine ov\ nc Icucs might:
O let my books be then the eloquence,
A'^d do nb prcfag'-rs of my fpeaking brcft,
W lO plcide for Ioue,and look for recompcncc,
Mjrcthcn tha' conge that more luth more exprcO.
(")!earne to read \Ahat filent louehath v\iit.
To b.caiCNNit cies belongs to loues fine wiht.
TL M Tic eye hath pliy'd the painter and hath rteclJ,
i ▼ 1 hy bcmties forme in tjblc of my heart,
M/ boJv s ihefvamc whfrcin ti'sheld,
A idpcrf->ect:u.- T is belt Pnnteri art.
For ihro.igh the Painter mult you fct his ikill.
to
S O N N r T s.
TohnJc V. hero votir true Im?gc pi(5^iir'(1 lies,
W\ ichinni\ bofoitics iTr^pisbing'!!';; (Iil,
That hath ins vMiid'U". .s glazeil u ith thine f^ e5!
Now \(r what p«^oiUtui res ryes frr C'C^ haiic (ione,
Kl.ne (yes hail? Jravhc thv {"h-ipcar:*! tlimc for mc
* re v\ mdoACf to my brtft, v\hcrf-ihrrurh liic Sini
Dclic;!us to pccpCjio gaze therein on thcc
Yet eves this cuunin*; v ant to grace their crc
They draw but v\ bat they fce^know not the har»«
T Et thofc who are in fauor with their ftari,
. 1 Ot publike honciirind proud titles bofi,
V\ hiili I \\ heme fortune of fich tr\ irmpS bars .
Vl.](1(^!a for \oy in that I hoiioui n oil;
(jr a: Pjiiiccs*aiiorires their faircicauei fprcaJ,
But as t! e Maiygoid at the /'un< tyr.
And 111 thcm-rdut s their prid : he$ buried.
For at afrownethfy in their glory die.
Tiie'painefull warricrfainofedfor vorth,
After athoulandviftoriesoncc foild, .
Is from the b K)ke ofhonour rafed qrJice,
And all thcrtif forgot for vAhichhe tr.ild:
7 hen happy 1 that loue and am bcloiied
W'iitrc I may noc rcmouc.nor be renaoued,
26
IOrd ofmy Ioue,to vihomc in raflalage
-. Thy merrithach mv outie ftrongly knit;
To thee 1 fend this written ambaffage
To witnefle duty, not to Oicw my wit.
Duty fo great,u hich wit fo poore as mine
May make fecm'- barc,in w anting word^ to fhcw it;
r>ut that 1 hope fome good cone eipt oftliinc
lii thv foules thought^ all naked^ v% ill btltow it:
Til whatfoeuer f>ar that guides my moumg,
Points on me gratioufly with faire arpc(^l.
And puu appauclJ on my tottered loumg,
C 2 To
ShAKI-SPB ARES,
To Hiovv ine worthy of their (wcct rcfpcfV^
Then may I dare to boaft how 1 doc louc thee,
Til then,not (how my head where thou maifiproueir.s
27
\\7 Eary with toyIc,T haft me to my bed ,
Tliedeaferepofcforlims with trauaill tired.
But then begins a iouruy in my head
To worke my mind,whcn boddiei Work's expircd-
For then my thou[ihts(rrom far where I abide)
Intend a zelous pilgrimage to thee.
And keepe my drooping eye-lids open \\ ide.
Looking on darknes which the blind doc fee.
Sjiie that my foules imaginary fight
Prclcnts their flindtioe to my fightles view.
Which like a iewell("hunge m gaftiy night)^
Makes blacke night beautious,and her old face new.
Loe thus by day my lims.by night my mind.
For thee^and for my rclfe,noc quiet findc.
28
HO'.v can I thenrcturnc in happy plight
That am dcbard the bcnifit ofrcll.''
When daics opprclfion is not cazd by night.
But day by night and night by day oprelt.
And cach(though enimes to ethers raigne^
Doc in confcnt fhake hands to torture mc.
The one by toyie,the other to complaine
How far I toylcjllill farther oftYrom thee.
} tell the D ay to plcafe him thou art bright,
And uo'ft him grace when clouds doe blot the heaucn:
So flitter I the fwart compltxiond night,
Wiien fparkling ftars twire not thou j^uil'ft ih' cauen.
But day doth daily draw my forrovvcs longcr,((^ronger
And night doth nightly make grecfcs length fccme
29
\7 WHcn in difgrace with Fortune and mens eyes,
lallaloncbcwcepciJiy out-^.alliiate.
Aid
S O NNl T S.
An! trouble dcafc hcaucn with my bootleffc cries.
And lookc vpon my fclte i>nd ciirfc my fate.
Wifliinfmc like to one more rich inliopc,
FcaturM like him, like him v\ith friends pc;(Tcft,
Dclii iiig this mans art,aiid that mniis skope,
With \A iiat I n\oi\ inioy contented Icali,
Yet in thee thoughts my fclfe almort derpiilng,
Hipl ye 1 thinke on thcc, and then my Itate,
('Like to the Larkc at brcakc ofdaye arifingj
From lullcn earth finc^s himns at Hcaucns qatc,
For thy fvvect loue remembred fuch vvclth biings.
That then I skorne tochan^emy (tatc withKin^s.
Y^ X/Hcn to the Stffions ot Ivveet filcnt thoucht,
I loinmon vp rcmen.brancc ofthinns pa(},
I Gen thelackeofmany a thing I foiightj
And with old woes new waile my dcare times wafie?
Then can I drownc an eye(vn-vfd to flow)
For precious friends hid in deaths dateles night,
A jd wecpc a frcfli Icucs lone; fince canccid w oc.
And monc ih'cxpcnce of many avannifht fight.
Then can I grccue at grceuances fore-gon,
And iicauily from woe to woe tell ore
The fid account of fore-bemoned mone,
Which I new pay as if not payd before.
But ifthe while! thinke on thee fdearc friend)
All Icflls are rc(tord,and forrowes end.
Thy bof MTje is indeared w ith all hearts,
Which I by lacking; haue fijppofed dead,
Ana ilicre raignes Loue and all Loues louing parts.
An 'J a'l thofe friends which I thought buried. '
Hov\ many a holy and obfcquious tcarc
Hath dcare religious Joue ftolne from mine eye,
A-. irter'Uof the dead which how appeare.
But ihiiigi remvu d t.iai hidden in there lie,
C3 To
SnAXf-SPE A.RBS
Thou art the grauc where buiicd loue doth line,
H ung with the trophcis of my loucrs gon,
Who all their pnrts ofmc to thee did giuc.
That due orrnany,now is thine alone.
Their images I lou d, I view in thee,
A-id thou(all they)haft all the ail of rne.
IF thou furbiuc my well contented dale.
When that churic death my bones with diift fliall coucr
And /halt by fortune once more re- iuruay:
Thefe poorc rude lines of thy deceafea Louer:
Corr^pare them with the bettVing of the time.
And though they be cut-Hript by curry pen,
Referuc them for my loue, not for their rime,
Exceeded by the hight of happier men.
Oh then voutlafcmebut this louing tlioughc,
Had my friends Mufcgrowne with this growing age,
A dearer birth then thi* liis loue had brcugh;
To march in ranckes of better equipage:
But fmce he died and Poets better prcue,
Theirs for their ihk ilc read,his foi his loue.
33 ,
FVII many a glorious morning haue I feene.
Flatter the mountaine tops w ich foucraine cie,
Kifling with golden face the ineddo wcs grecnej
Guilding pale itreames with heauenly alcumy:
Anon permit thcbafcli cloud s t^* ride.
With ougly rack on his celeftiall face,
And from the foi-'orne v\orM his vifat^e hide
Stealing vn'cene to wcfi uitli rhisd fgracc
Eucn fo my Sunnc one early morne did fhine.
With all triumphant fpiendor on my brow,
But out alack.he was but one houre mine,
The region cloudc hjxh masked him from me now.
Yet h m for th)S,my loue no w hit difdameth.
Soils of the world may ttaincjwhc iicaucns fun ftaintcH.
34
Sonnets.
WHy (IM thou promif* fuch a beautious day.
And make mc trauailc forth without my doake,
To let bace doudc s ore-take me in my way.
Hiding thy brau'ry in their rotten fmokc.
Tis not cnou;^h that through the cloudc thou brcakr,
To dry the raincon my ftorme-beaten face,
For no n an well of fuch aYa'ue can fpcake.
That healcs the h ound, and cures not the difgrace:
Nor can thy fliame giue phificke to my gricfe.
Though thou repent , yet I hauc ftill the loffc,
Th'ofFendcrs forrow lends but wcakc rdiefc
To him that beares the ftrong offenfes loflfe.
Ah but thofe teares are pcarie which thy lou« {hitds.
And they arc ritch,and rajiiomc ail ill deeds.
. 35
NO more bee grceu'd at thatr which thou haft done.
Roles haue thornes,and fikier fountaincs mud,
Cloudes and cclipfes flaine both Moone and Sunne,
And loath fome cankar Hues in fweetcft bud.
All men make fau!ts,and cuen I in this^ .
Authoiizing thy trefpas with compare^
My ielfe corrupthi^ faluing chyamiflV,
Excusing tiieir fins more then their fins are:
For to thy fenfuai! fault 1 bring in fence.
Thy aduerfe party is thy Adaocate,
And gainft my fclfe a lavvfull plea commence.
Such ciiiill war is in myloueand hate,
That I an acccflary needs muft be,
To that fwcct ihccfc which fourely robs from tnc,
3^
rEt me tonfefl'c th'^t we two muft be twainc.
Although o.ir vndeuided loues are one:
So (h?A\ thole blots that do with mc remaine,
Vv'^ th^ur thy helpe , by mc be borne aMne.
la oui two Ivucs there U but oaereipcd,
Though
ShAKE-SPI AltlS
Though In our liucs a fcpcrable Tpight, j
Which though it alter not loues folc cffc(5^, |
Yet doth it ftealc fvvect houres from loues dclighCj j
I may not cuer-morc acknowledge thee, |
Leaft my bewailed guilt fhould do thee fhamc, \
Nor thou with publike kindneflc honour me, :
Vnlefl'c thou take that, honour from thy name: J
But doe not fojloue thee in Tuch fort, j
As thou being mine,mine is thy good report.
37
AS a decrepit father takes delight,
To fee his aOiue childe do deeds of youth,
So I , made lame by Fortunes dcareft fpight
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty,birth,or weaUh,or wit.
Or any of thefe all,or all,or more
Intitlcd in their parts,do crowned fit,
I make my louc ingrafted to this ftorc:
So then I am not lame^pcore, nor difpifd,
Whilft that this Hiadow doth fuch fubftancc giac.
That I in thy abundance am fuftic'd.
And by a part of all thy glory liuc:
Looke what is beft,that befl I wi/h in thee,
This w ifli I hauc^then ten times happy me.
TJOvv can my Mufc want fubie(5^ to inuent
•■■ -^While thou doft breath that poor'ft into my rerCc,
Thine ownefweet argument.to excellent.
For cuery vulgar paper to rehearfc:
Oh giuc thy (elfe the thankcs if ought in me.
Worthy perufal fland againft thy fight.
For who's fo dumbe that cannot write to thee.
When thou thy felfe doft giueinuention light?
Be thou the tenth Mufe,ten times more in worth
Then thofc old nine which rimers iuuocate.
And he that calls on thcc,let him bring forth
EternaJl
So NNB TS.
Eternal numbers to out-liuc long date.
If my flight Mufc doe plcafc ihcfe curious dales.
The painc be mine,but thine fhal be the praifc.
39
OH how thy worth with manners may I finge,
When thou arc all the better part ofmc?
What can mine owne praife to mine ownc felfe bring;
And what is't but mine owne when I praifc thee,
Euen for this.lct vs deuided Hue,
And our deaie louc loofe name of fingle one.
That by this fcperation I may giue:
That due to thee which thou defcru'l^ alone:
Oh abfcnce what a torment wouldfl: thou piouc.
Were it not thy foure Icifurc gauc fwcct leauc,
To cntertaine the time with thoughts of loue.
Which time and thoughts fo fwectly doll deceiuc.
And that thou teacheft how to make one twaine.
By praifing him here who doth hence remainc,
40
TAke all my loues,my loue,y-''a to'^.e them all,
What hafl thou then more then tliou hadii before?
No Ioue,my louc,that thou maid true iouc call,
AH mine was rhine,tefore thou hadfl this inore:
Then iffor my loue,thou my loue rccciuell,
I cannot blame thee,for my loue thou vlclt, '
But yet be blam'd.ifthou this felfe deceaucft
B y wilfuU tafte of what rhy felfe rcfufdi.
I doe forgiue thy robb'ric gentle thcefe
Although thoufteale ^hee all my poucrty:
And yet loue knowes it is a greater grief c
Tobcare loucs wrong,then hates knowne iniury,
Lafciuious grace,i'i whom all il v\ el fliowes,
Killmc with fpi^^hts yet we rauft not be foes.
IHofe pretty wrongs tliat liberty commit^.
When 1 am fomc-tinjc abfcnt from thy heart,
D Thy
S HA aT-' P E AR E ':.
Thy bealltl^,and thy ycarcs full weH bcfirs,
Foi ftill temptation follovvcs where tb.ou art.
Ccotlc thou artjand therefore to be vvoni.e,
Beautious thou artjthercforc to be aflailcti.
And vA'hen a wotnan vvoes,v\hat womansfonne,
Will lou: civ leaue her till he haue preuailed.
Aye inc but yet ihou luighrt my fcatc foibcaret
And chide thy bcaury.and thy lirayiig youth,
Who lead thee in their ryoteucn there
Where thou art forll to brcakc a two-fold truth:
Hers by thy bea'uiy tempting her to ihce,
Thine by thy bcautie beeing faifc to me.
42
THat thou hafl hcHt is not all my gricfc,
And yet it may be ( aid I lou'd her dcereiy,
Thac fhc hath thee is of my wayling ch-cfe,
A lolTc irr lou? thac toucr.es me rnoicnecrely.
Louing offendors thus T will excufe yee.
Thou doofi ioue hcr.becaufc thou know ft I loue hcfj
And for my fake euen fo doth fhc abufe me,
Suftnngmy friend for my fake to approoue her,
]f I look thec^my loflc is my loucs game,
Andloofing hcr;iny friend hath found that ioffc,
Both fulde each other, and I loofe both cwainc.
And both for my fake lay on me this croHe,
BiU here's the ioy,my friend and 1 arc one,
Swcete fl2ttcry_,tncn (liC loues but me alone,
W/ H:n moll 1 winkc then doe mine eyes beft fee.
For a!) the day they view things vnrefpcftcd,
But whi n 1 fleepe,in dreames they lookc on thee,
Anddaikelv br!pht,are bright in darke directed.
Then thou whofe fhaddoA fhaddowes doth maVe bright,
How would ihy fliadowes fbrme,forme happy fliow.
To the ckere day with thy nauchclecrer light,
When to vtt-fccing eyes thy flaade fliincs fo?
How
How would fl fay jminc eyes be blcffc J made,
By looking on thee in the liuing day ?
VVlictj !!) (lead night their Taire 'impcTfc6\ /hade.
Through hcauy llccpc on nghtlcffc cycj doth ftay?
AH dayc? arc nights co fee till I I'cc thee,
And nights bright daics \a hen drcanis do ilicw ihcc me»
44 ^
IF the dull fubdance of my ficfh were thought,
Iniurious diftancc fhould not flop my way,
For thcii (iifpighr of fpaccl would be brought,
F'oni hinits farre rcmotc.whcrcthou doo(i /by.
No matter then a/though try footc did (land
Vpon the fartiicft earth rcir.oou'd fiom thee,
For njtnbic thoitgiic ran iiimpc both fea and lancJ,
As foone as thuikc the place where he would be.
But ah,thoi;glu kills me that 1 am not thought
To leapt- large lengths ofmilcs when thou art gone,
Fuc that fo much cf earth and water wrought,
I muft aticndjiimes Icafurc with my mone.
Rccciuing naughts by clrmcLts io floe,
liut hcaiiic tcarcSjbadges ot cithers woe«
THe other twcflight ayre.and purging fire,
Arebothwiththec,v\hereeuer labide.
The ftrit my thought,thc other my defire.
Theft prefcnt abicnt with fwift motion fiidc«
For when thefc quicker Elements arc gone
In tender Embarfie of Jcue to thee.
My life being made of roure,with two alone,
S-nkes downcto death,oppfe{t with melancholic.
V.inll lines crrnpoHtion be rccured.
By thofe fwift me (Ten gcrs return'd trom thee,
Wlio tuen but now come oack agame aflurcd.
Of thcii faire hcahh.rccounting it to me.
This told,! toy,but then no longer glad,
3 fend them back againc and Hraight grow la<I.
D % Mini
S HA KB -SP BARES.
^6
Mine eye and heart are at a mortall warre.
How to dcuidc the conqucft of thy fight,
Mine cye,my heart their pictures fight would barre.
My hcart,niine eye the frcecdome of that right,
My heart doth plead that thou in him dooftiye,
(A clofet neuer peaid with chriftall cycs^
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And faycs in him their faire appearance lyes.
To fide this title is impannellcd
A qucft of thoughts,all tcnnants to the hffart,
And by their verdi(5^ is determined
The clecre eyes moyitie,and the dcare hearts part.
As thus,mine eyes due is their outward part.
And my hearts right,thcir inward loue of heart.
B,, 47
Etwixt mine eye and heart a league is tookc.
And each doth good turncs now vnto the other.
When that mine eye is famifht for a looke,
Or heart in louc with fighcs himfclfe doth fmother; ■
With my loues pidurc then my eye doth fcaft,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart:
An other time mine eye is my hearts gueft.
And in his thoughts of loue doth /hare apart.
So cither by thy pi6^ure or my loue.
Thy fcife a way, are prcfent ftill with me.
For thou nor farther then my thoughts canft moue.
And I am ftill with thein,and they with thee.
Or if they flcepe, thy pidure in my fight
Awakes my heart,to hearts and eves deh^ht
48 ^ °
HOw carefull was I when I tooke my way.
Each trifle vnder trueft barres to thruft.
That to my vfe it might vn-vfed ftay
From hands of falfehood,ia fure wards of truft ?
But thoujto whom my icvvcis trifles are.
Moft
S ONNET 8,
Mofl worthy comfort,now my greatcft gnCiC,
Thou befl;ofdecrcft,and mine onely cnic,
Arr Icfc the prey of eiicry vulgar thccfe.
'! hcc hauc I not iockc vp in any chcft,
Sane where thou art not though I fcclc <hou art,
Within the gcntlrclofii e ofniy breft,
From whence at plcafui c thou maift come and part,
And eucn thence thou wilt be flolnc I fcarc,
For truth prooucis ihccuifh for a priic fo dcare,
ACainf^ chat time ( ifcucr that tiire come J
When I fhall fee thee frowne on my detccf^s,
When asthy loiichath cnft his vimoft Uanmc,
Cauld to thatauditeby aduiTd rcfpedls,
Againft that time when thou (IrAt ftran^cly pafic,
And fcarccly greete me with that fnnne thine eye,
When loue conuerted from the thing it was
Shall reafons finde of fetled graiiitie.
Againft that time do I infconce me here
With.in the knov\ledge ofmincownc defart.
And this my hand,anainrt my fclfc vprcare,
To guard the lavvfuU reafons on thy part.
To Icaue poore mc,thou hall the lircngth of lawes^
Since why to loue,I can alledgc no caufe.
HOw hcauie doc I iourney on the way,
When what I fceke (my wearic traucls end j
Doth teach that eafe and that repofe to fay
Thus farre the miles arc meafurde from thy friend.
The beaft that bearcs me,tired with my woe,
Plods duly on,to beare that waight in mc.
As if by fome inftinft the wretch did know
His rider lou'd not fpced being made from thee:
The bloody fpurre cannot prouoke him on,
That fome-times anger thrulh into his hide,
Wbichlveauily he anfwers with a grone,
D 3 More
S H A K 1-S P 1 A X B 9.
More fiiarpc to mc then {purring to his fide.
For that lame gronc doth put this in my minif.
My grcefe lies onward and my ioy behind,
$1
^TT Hus can my louc f xcufe the flow offence,
Jl Ofmy dull bearcr,when from tlicc \ fpecd.
From where thou art, why flioulld I haltnic thence.
Till I returne ofpofting is noe need.
O what excufe will my poorc bcafl tl^en Rttd,
When Iwlfc extremity can frcme but flow.
Then fiiouid 1 fpurrc though mounted en the wind.
In winged (ptcd no motion flia'1 1 know.
Then caa no horle with my defire keepe pace,
Therefore dcfirc(^ofperfc6lsloue being made}
Shall iia'gh noc dull flclli in his fiery race.
But loue,tor loiic^thns fhall cxcufe my iade.
Since from thee going.hc ^-vent wilful] flow.
Towards thee iie run,and giuc him Icaue to goe.
^ O am I as the rich whofc blefTed key,
t JCan bring him to his fweet vp-locked treafure.
The v\ hich he v\ ill not eu*ry hower furuay.
For blunting the fine point of feldomeplcafurc.
Therefore are feafts fo follemne and fo rare.
Since filJom comming in the long yearc fet.
Like ftones of worth they thinly placed are,
Oi captaine Jewells in the carconct.
So is ihc time that kecpes you as my chcft.
Or as the ward-robe w hich the robe doth hide
Tom:ikefomefpedallinrtantfpccia!lbkft,
By new vnfouluing his imprifon'd pride.
Bleffcd are you whofe worthincflc glues skope,
Being had to tryumph,being lackt to hope.
"^ \ /Hat i^ your fubftance,vvhercof are you made,
That njiliions of ftrange ihaddowes on you tend?
Since
Son hi t s»
Since cuciy onc,liath cucry one,onc fhade,
And you but one,can eucry fhaddow lend;
Defcribc tAdoMu and the countcrfct,
Is poorely immitatcd after you,
On Hellens chcekc all art of beau tic fet,
And you in Grecian tires arc painted new:
Speakc of the fpring.and foyion of the yeare.
The one doth rhaddovv of your beriutiefKow,
The other as your bountie doth appeare,
And you in euery bltffed fliapc 'a e know.
In all cxtcrnall grace you haue fome part,
But you like none,none you for conftant heart.
54
OH how much more doth beamie beautious fccme,
V>y that fvvcet ornament \A'hich truth do:b giue.
The Rofe lookcs faire, but fairer \vc it dccme
For that fweet odor,whicIi doth in ji liuc:
The Canker bloomes haue full asdcepc a die.
As the perfumed tinfture ofthc Rofcs,
Hang on fuch thornes,and play as ^vantonly>
When fommers breath their masked budsdilclofes:
But for their virtue only is their fhow,
They liue vnvvoo'd, and vntcfpec'tcd fade.
Die to themfdues . Sweet Rofes doe not fo.
Of their fweet deathes, are fwecteO odors made:
Andfo ofyou,beautiru$and louely youth;
When that fhallvade,by verfediftils your truth. ..
NOt marble, nor the guilded monnment,
Of Princes fliall out-liup this powrefull rime.
But ycu fhall (hine more bright m thcfe contents
Then vnfv^eptftone, befmcer d v^ith fluttiflitimc.
When waftefuU warrc fhall 5Mr»f/ouer-turnc,
And brojles rootcout the worke ofmafonry,
Kor >4^^r/hisfword, norwarres t^uickfirc fliall bumc;
1 he liuing record ofyour memory,
Gaintt
ShA KB-SP 1 AR ES.
Gainfl death,ind all obliuious emnity
Shall you pace forth, your praife fliaJl ftil finde roome,
Euen in the eyes of all poftcrity
That wearc this world out to the ending doome.
So til the iudgemcnt that your felfe arife,
You liuc in this,and dwell in louers cics.
Sweet louc renew thy force , be it not faid
Thy edge fhould blunter be then apctitc.
Which but too daie by feeding is alaied.
To moiTow fharpned in his former might.
So loue be thou, although too daie chou fill
Thy hungrie cics,ciien till they vvinck withfulncire.
Too morrow fee againc, and doc not kill
The fpirit of LouCjWirh a perpetual diilnclTc:
Let this fad Intrtm like the Ocean be
Which parts the fhorCjWherc two contrafted new.
Come daily to the banckes,that when they fee.-
Returne of loue^morc blefi may be the view.
Ascal it Winter,which being ful of care.
Makes Somers welcome, thrice more \vjf}i'd,morc rare ;
57
BEing your flauc what fhould I doc but tend,
Vpon the houres,and times of yo'ir defirc?
I hauc no precious time at al to fpcnd;
Nor fcruices to doc til you require.
Nor dare I chide the world without end houre,
Whilfl I (my foueraine)watch the clock for you.
Nor thinke the bitterncffc of abfence fowre.
When you baue bid your feruant once adieuc.
Nor dare I qucftion w ith my ieahous thought,
Where you may be,or your affaires fuppofc.
But like a fad flaue ilay and thinke of nought
Saue where you arc , how happy you make thofc.
So. true a foole is Iouc,tha£ in your Will,
(Though you doc any thing)hc thinljes no ill.
58 i
1
SONNITS.
THat God forbldjthat made mc firft your flauc,
I rhould in thought controulc your times of plcafuK,
Or at your hand th' account of hourcs to craue.
Being your va{fail bound to fiaic your leifurc.
Oh let me fuffer('being at your beck)
Th* imprifon'd abfcncc of your libcrtie.
And patience tamc,to fuffcrancc bide each check.
Without accufing you of iniury.
Be where you hft,your charter is fo ftrong,
That you your fclfc may priuiledgc your time
To what you will,to you it doth belong.
Your felfc to pardon of felfe-doing crime.
I am to waite,though waiting fo be hell.
Not blame your plcalijre be it ill or well.
$9
IF tlicir bee nothing ncw,but that which is,
Hath bcenc before , how arc our braincsbcguiJd,
Which laboring for inuention bcarc amilTc
The fecond burthen of a former child ?
Oh that record could with a back-ward looke,
Eucn of fiue hundrcth courfes of the Sunne,
Show me your image in fomc antique booke.
Since minde at firft in carre<5ler was done.
That I might fee what the old world could fay.
To this compofed wonder of your frame.
Whether we are mendcd,or where better they.
Or whether reuolution be the fame.
Oh furc I am the wits of former daics,
To fubiedls worfe haue giucn admiring praifc#
60
Like as the waues make towards the pibled fhore.
So do our minuites haften to their end.
Each changing place with that which goes beforej
In fequent toile all forwards do contend.
Natiuity once in the mainc of light.
: E Criw]#
Shake SP8 arbs
Cravvlcs to maturity ,vvhcrcwith being crown* d.
Clocked cclipfes gainft his glory ftght,
And time that*g3tic,doth now hit gitt confound.
Time doth tpanlHxc the fiori {li fee on youth,
And dclucs the paralek in beauties brow,
Feedcs on the rarities ofnatures truth.
And nothing ftands but for his fieth to mow.
And yet to tlmci in hope,my vcrfc Oiall ftand;
Praifing thy worth,difpi5ht his crucll hand.
^ 6j
IS it thy vvil,thy Imagefliould kcqjcopcn
My heauy eie'ids to the weary night?
Doft thou defire my (lumbers (houid be broken^
While (hadowcs like to tbee domockcmy fightf
Is it thy fpirit that thou fend*ft from thee
So farrc from home into my deeds to prye.
To find out fliamcs and idle houres in rac.
The skppe and tenure of thy leloufief
O nojthy loue though mucb^s^notfo great^
It is my loue that kcepes mine eic awake^
Mine ownc true loue that doth my reft defeat,
To plaie the watch-man eucr for thy fake.
For thee watch 1 jwhilft thou doft wake elTewhcrc,,
From mc farrc of ,. with others aU ta ncere»
6z
SInnc of felfe-loue pofl*efleth.aI mine eic^
And all my ioulc,and al my euery partj,
And for this finne there is no remedie.
It is fo grounded inward in my heart.
Mc thinkes no face fo gratious is as mine,
"No fhapc fo truc,no truth of fuch account.
And for my fclfc mine owne worth do define.
As I all other in all worths furmount..
But when ray glalTc fhewes me my felfc indeed
Bcated and chojt with tand antiquitie,
.Mine owne fclft loue quite cootraty Itcad
Sdfe
S ONNlTf.
Sclfc/o fcirdouinc vrcrc iniquity,
T'is tlice(my rcirc)that for my Idfe Ipraife,
Painting my age with beauty of thy daics,-
ACainft my loue fliall be as I am now
With times inJHrious hand chruHit and orc-womc.
When hourcs hauc drcind his blood and fild his brow
With linc5 and wrinclcs,whcn his youthful! raorne
Hath trauaild on to Ages ftcepic nighr.
And all thofc beauties whereof now he's King
Arc vanifliing,or vaniflit out of light.
Stealing away the treafure of his Spring,
Forfuchatimc do Inowfortific
Againfl confounding Ages crucll knife,
That he fliall ncuer cut from memory
My fwcet loues beauty, though my ioucrslifr.
His beautic fhall in thcfc blacke lines be fccnc, ?
And they {hall liuc , and he in theraltill grccnc,
64
WHen I haue fccnc by times fell hand defaced
The rich proud coi\ of outwcrnc buried age.
When fometimc loftie towers I fee downe rafcd.
And braffe ctcrnall flauc tc mortall rage.
When I hauc feenc the hungry Ocean gainc
Aduantagc on the Kingdonic of the (hoarc.
And the nrme foile win of the watry maine,
Incrcafing (lore w uh lofTcjand loflc w ith florc.
When 1 hauc fccnc fuch interchange of ftatc,
Or flatc it fclfe confounded, to decay,
Ruinc hath taught me thus 10 ruminarc
That Time will come and tal<e my louc away.
This thought is as a death v> hch cannot choofc
But wccpc to haucjthat w hich it fearcs to loofc.
C Tnce bra(re,nor f^onc,nor can h ,nor boundlcflc fc*^
^ Bui fad rooruUicy orc-fwairs their ^of, §r,
E i Hov9
S H AKLE-SP E All $ '
How with this rage fhall bjcautic hold a plea,
Whofe a<5^ion is no ftrong<r then a flower/ {
O how fliall fummcrs huinry breath hold out, i
Againft the vvrackfull fiedgc of battring dayes, ;
When rocks impregnable arc not To ftoute, I
Nor gates of itecie ib ftrong but tiiuc dccayes? |
Ofearefull meditation, whecealaclc, ' j
Shall tinafsbelHevvcll from times chcft lie hid? " \
Or what ftrong hand can hold his ivviftfootcbacV, j
Or who his fpoilc or beautic can forbid.?
O none^vnlcffe this miracle haue might.
That in black inckmy loue may ftillfhincbrighu
66
TYr'd with all thefe for reftfuU death I cry.
As to behold defert a bcggcr borne,
And needie Nothing trimd in iollitic,
And pureft'faith vnhappily forfworne.
And gilded honor flianicfuily mifplaft-.
And maiden vertue rudely ftruinpeted.
And right perfcilion wrongfully difgrac'd^
Andftrength by limping fway difabled,
And arte made tung-tide by authoritic.
And Folly (Doiftor-Hkej conrrouling skill.
And fimple-Truth mifcaide SimpJicitie,
And captiue-good attending Captainc ill,
Tyr'd with all thcfcfrom thefe would I be gonci.
Saue that to dyc^ I Icaue my louc alone.
AH wherefore with infeflion fhould he liuc,
And with his prefencc grace impietie,
TKat finne by him aduantage (hould atchiuc,
And lace it fclfe with his focietie ?
Why fhould falfc painting immitate hi« cheeke,
And fleale dead feeing of his liuing hewf
Why fhould poorc bcaatic indireftly icckc,
-R^fes of fhaddiwr,(iqcc hisRofcis-triit?
Sonnit*. •
Why Hiould heIiuc,now nliture banckrout is,
Bcggerd ofblood to blufh through liuely yaincs.
For Hie hath no cxchcckcr now but hU,
And proud of many,hucs vpon his gaines?
O him (lie ftorcs,to fhow what wefth (Vie had.
In dales long fincc,beforc thcTc laft fo bad.
58
THus is his chcekc the map ofdaies out-wornc.
When beauty iiu'd and dy'ed as flowers do noWp
Before thcfc baftard fignes of fairc were borne,
Or durft inhabit on a liuing browf
Before the gouldcn trcffes of the dead,
The right of fcpulchcrs,wcre finorne away,
To liuc a fcond life on fccond head.
Ere beauries dead fleece made another gay:
In hiin thofc holy antique howers are fcene.
Without all ornament.it fdfc and true.
Making no fummerofan others greene.
Robbing no ould to drefle his beauty new.
And him a? for a map doth Nature ftore,
Toflicwfaullc Art what beauty v\ as of yore
69
T~Hofc parts of thee that the worlds eye doth view,
-*- Want nothing that the thought ofhearts can mend: ."
AM tounp(thc voice of foules)giue rhee that end,
Vctring bare truth,euen fo as foes Commend.
Their outward thus with outward praife is crownd
But tliofc fame toungs that giue rhee fo tiiinc owne
In other accents doe this praife confound
By feeing farther then the eye hath fhownc.
They looke into the beauty ofthy mind,
And that in gucCTc they mcafure by thy deeds,
TiicnchurU their thoughrs(although their eics were kitidj
To thy fa-re flower ad the rancke fmell of weeds.
Rut wiiy thy odor matcheth not thy fliow
.The folyc is this,that thoudoefl common grow*
H 3 That
5 MASS'S PB AM f
. 79,. • ■, -.r ■■
THat thou are blam*d (nail noc be ^hy dcfc3t,
For riandcrs markc v.is cucr yet the fairc.
The ornament ofbcauty is hifpct^,
A Crow that flics in hcaucns 1 wectefl ayre.
So thou be good,naiider doth but approue.
Their worth the greater beeiiig woo d of time.
For Canker vice thcfweeteft buds doth louc.
And thou prefent'li a pure rn(lay ined prime.
Thou haft paft by the ambuth ofyoung diies.
Either not zCfiyldfir vi^or beeinc charg'd.
Yet this thy praife cannot be foe thy praifc.
To tye vp enuy,cucrmorc inlargcd.
If fome fufpcd^ of ill maskt not thy (how.
Then thou alone kingdomes of hearts Hiouldft owe/
NOe Longer mourne for mc when I im dead.
Then you fliall hearc the furly fullen bcU
Glue warning to the world that I am fled
From this yilc world with vildcft wormcs to dwell:
Nay if you read this !inc,remcmbcr not.
The hand that writ it/or I louc ycu To,
That I in your fweet though ts would be forgot,
If thinking on rae then fliould make you woe.
O if|'Ifay])you looke vpon this verfe,
When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay,
Do not fo much as my poore name rchcrft;
But let your louc eucn with my life decay.
LeaU the wife world Oiould lookc into your mone.
And mockc you with mc after 1 am gon,
7i
OLcaft the world fhould taske you to recite,
xVtut merit liu'd in me that you Hiouldlouf
After my icath^deare loue^for get me quite,
F^r you tn mi en nothing worthy proue.
ViilciTc you yv^uld dcuifcibsof venuou> Jyc,
To
To doc more for me then mine ownc dcfcrt^
And hang more praifc ^'pon deceafcd I,
Then nigard truth would wilHngfy impart/
O Icaft your true louc may fceme falce in this,
That you for lone foeake well of me vntruc.
My name be buried where my body is,
And Hue no more to Hianie nor me^or you.
For I am fliamd by that which 1 bring forth*
And fo (hould you,io loue things nothing worth,
73
THat time ofyecare thou maift in me bchotd.
When yellow leauc$,or none,or few doe htngc
Vpon thofe boughes which (hake againft the could.
Bare rn'vvd guiers, where late the fwcct birds fing^
In me thou fecft the tui-li^ht of fuch day,
As after Sun-(et fadeth in the Weft,
Which by and by blackc night doth take awty.
Deaths fecond felfe that feals vp all in reft.
In me thou feeft the glowing of fuch fire.
That on the afhes of his youth doth lye.
As the death bed,whereonit muft expire,
Confum d with that which it w as nurrifhtby.
This thou perccu'ft, which makes thy louc more ftr-Jfifj
To louc that well,which thou muft leauc ere long.
74 ^
BVt be contented when that fell areft,
With out all bayle fliall carry me awty.
My life hath in this line fomc in tereft.
Which for mcmor jall (lill with thee (hall ftay.
When thou rcuew4ilthis,thou doeft reucw.
The very part was conlecrate to thee.
The earth can haue but eanh,which is his dutj
My Spirit is thine the better part of me^
So then ihou tuft but loft the dregs of life.
The pray of w^fmes,my body being dead,
The cowafd ooBqiicttof.a wretches knife.
S HAKB'SPfi All S
To bafc of thcc to be rcmcmbrcd.
The wonhofthatjis that which it containcs.
And that is thi<, and thi( with thee rcmaincs.
O arc you to my tljoughts a^ food to life,
Or as Tweet fcafon'd (Kevvers are to the ground;
And for the peace oTyou J hold fuch ftrife,
As twixc a tnifa and his wealth is found.
Now proud ^ 9H inioyer,and anon
Doubting the filching age will ftcale his treafurc,
Now counting befi so be with you alone,
Then bcctecd that the world may fee my pleasure*
Some-time ail ful with feafting on your nghr.
And by and by clcanc ftarucd for a lookc,
PofTcfTing or purfuing no delight
Saue what is had,or muft from you be tooke.
Thus do I pine and fur fet day by day,
Or gluttoning.on alijor aii away,
Hy is my vcrfe fb barren of new pride?
So far from variation or quickc change?
Why with the time do I not tglancc afidc
To oew found n»ethods,and to compounds ftrange?
Whv wri^felftill aiIone,euer the fame.
And kecpc inuen tion in a not^d weed.
Thai euery word doth ahnoft fel my name.
Shewing their birth^aiid where they did proceed?
O know fweet loue I al waies wyitc of you.
And you and louc ate ftili my argument:
So all my beft is drcflingold words n€W,
Spending againc what is already Ipcnt:
For as the Sun ii daily new and old,
So is my louc ftUl telling what is told,
A Thy dy all ho w thy pretious mynu Jt« waftc,
Wl
, S O H N 1» T S.
The f acant Icaiws thy mindcs imprint will bearc.
And ofthis booke,thii Icamingmaift thou taftc*
The wrincklcs which thy glaflc will truly (how,
Ofmouthed graues will giuc thee mcir.orie,
Tiiou by thy dyalsfliac'y'ftcalikmaiftknpw,
Times thceuifh progrefTc to ctcrnitie.
Looke what thy mcmoiic cannot containc,
Commit to thefc waftc blacks,and thou (halt findc
Thofe children nurft,deliucrd from thy braine.
To tnke a new acquaintance of thy mindc.
Thcfe offices, fo oft as thou wilt looke,
. Shall profit thee and much inrich thy bookc.
'78
SO oft haue T iniiok d thee for my Mufc,
And found fuch faire affilhncein my vcrfir.
As euery Alien pen hath got my vie.
And vnder tiiec their poefic diiperic.
Thine eyc5, that taught the dumbconhighto fing.
And heauie ignorance aloft to flie,
Haue added tethers to the learneds wing.
And giuen grace a double Maicttie.
Yet be moft proud of that which I compile,
Whofe influence is thine,and borne of thee.
In others workes thou dooft but mend the ftile,
And Arts with thy fwecte graces graced be.
But thou art all my art,and dooft aduance
As high as lcarning,my rude ignorance.
19
TS/HiKk I alone dtd call vpon thy ayde,
My verfe alone had all thy gentle grace,
But now my gracious n umbers are decay dc,
And my fick Mufe doth giue an other place.
I grant ( fweet louejthy iouely argument
Dcferues the trauaile of a worthier pen.
Yet what of thee thy Poet doth inuent.
He robs thee of^ana payea it thee againc,
F He
ShAK1-$PE ARBt
He lends thee vertuc,3nd he ftole that word.
From thy bchauiour,bcautie doth hegiuc »
And found it in thy chcekc: he can afK>ord •
No praife to thce,but what in thee doth iiuc.
Then rhanke him not for that which he doth fav,
Since what he owes thcc,thou thy fclfc dooft pay,
80
OHow r faint when I of you do write.
Knowing a better Spirit doth vTc your name,
And in the praife thereof fpends all his mioht.
To make mc toung-tidc fpeaking of your fame.
But fince your worrhf'wide as the Ocean is^
The humble as the proudeft faiie doth beare,
My fawficbarke ^inferior farre to \n$)
On your broad mainc doth wilfully appesre.
Your rhalloweft helpc will hold mc rp a floate,
Whilfthc vpon yourfbundleflc dccpc doth ride.
Or ( being wrackt ^ I am a woithlcfTc bote.
Me of tall building.and of goodljppride.
Then If he thriue and I be caft away,
The worft was this,my louc was my decay,
OR r fhall liue your Epitaph to make.
Or you furuiuc when I in earth am rotten.
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part wiH be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortall life Oiall hauc.
Though I ('once gone) to aU the world muft dye.
The cartli can yeeld me but a common graue.
When you intombed in mens eyes fhall lye.
Your monument fhall be my gentle vcrfe.
Which eyes not yet created fhall ore-read.
And touBgs to be, your beeing ftiall rehearfr.
When all the breatber»oflhi8 world are dead,
You ftill fhall liue (fuch yertuchjth my Pen)
Where breath moft brctths,euen in the itouthj of men.
I grant
SoNNEfS*
I Grant thou wcrt not married to my M jfc.
And therefore ma'tef) without attaint orc-look€
The dedicated words which writers vfe
Of their faire fwhiefljblcflfing cuery booke.
Thou art as faire in knowledge as in hew,
Findirrg thy worth a limmit paft my praife,
And therefore art inforc'd to feeke anew.
Some frcfher ftampe of the time bettcriirg daycs.
And do fo loiie,yet when they hauc deuifde,
What ftrained touches Rhethorick can lend.
Thou ttufy fairCjWcrt truly fimpathizde.
In true plainc words ,by thy true teUing friend.
And their grofle painting might be better vf'd.
Where cheekes need bIood,in ihcc it is abufd.
INeuer faw that you did painting need.
And therefore to your faire no painting fcl^
1 found ( or thought I found) you did exceed.
The barren tender of a Poets debt :
And therefore haue I flept in your report.
That you your felfc being extant well might fliow.
How fane a moderne quill doth come to fhort.
Speaking of worth.what worth in you doth grovf^
This filence for my finne you did impute,
Which (hall be moft my glory being dombc,'
For I impaire not beautie being mute,
When others would giue life,and bringa tombe.
There iiucs more life in one of youi faire eyes,
Then both your Poets can in praifc dcuifc,
84
XX/'Ho is it that fayes moft,v\ hich can fay more.
Then this rich pra!fe,thatyou alone,are you.
In whole confine immured is the ftore.
Which fhould example where your cquall grew,
Lcane penurie within that Pen doth dwell,
F ft That
Shake-speares
That to his fubicfl lends not fome (iTjall glory,
But he that writes ofyoujifhc can icll,
That you are yoa,fo dignifies his ftory.
Let him but coppy what in you is writ.
Not making worfe what nature made fo cleere,
And fuch a counter-part fhall fame his wit.
Making his (iilc admired cuery where.
Yoy to your bcautious blefifings addc a cuiTe,
Being fond onpraife^which makes yourpraifes worfe.
85
MY toung-tidc Mufe in manners holds her ftill,
While comments of your praifc richly compil'd,
Rcfcrue their Charafter with goulden quil).
And precious phrafe by all the Mijfcs fifd.
I thinke good thoughts, whilfl other write good wordcs.
And like vnlcttcrcd clarke liill crie Amen,
To euery Hiiiine that able fpirit affords.
In poliOu forme of well refined pen.
Hearing you praifd,! fny 'tis fo, 'tis true.
And to the mort of praiie adde fomc-thing more.
But that is in my thought,whofe lone to you
(Though words come hind-moft^hoids his ranke before.
Then otherSjfor the breath of words refpedt,
Me for my dombe thoughts/peaking in effedl.
%6
"Vf VTAs it the proud full faile of his great verfe.
Bound for the prize of (all to precious) you.
That did my ripe thoughts in my braine inhearce,
Making their tombe the wombe wherein they grew?
Was it his fpirit, by fpirits taught to write,
Aboue a mortal! pitch,that ftruck me dead ?
No,neithcr he,nor his compters by nighc
Giuing him avde,my verfe aftonifhcd.
He nor that affable familiar ghoft
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As Yi<^ors of my filcnce cannot boaP,
I was
lg»
Sonnets,
I WIS not fick of any fcarc from thence.
But when your counti nance fild vphfs line.
Then lackt I niatter,that infcebled mine,
87
F Are well thou art too dearc for my poflcffin*^
And like enongh thou knowft thy e^imate.
The Chaiter ofthy worth giues thee relcafing:
My bonds in thee arc all determinate.
For how do 1 hold thee but by thy granting.
And for that ritches where is my defcruing?
• The caufe of this faire gutft in mc is wanting.
And fo my pattent back againc is fweruing.
Thy felfc thou gau'ft,thy owne worth then not knowing.
Or mce to whom thou gau'fl it.elfe miftaking,
So thy great guift vpon mifprifion growing,
Comes home againe,on better iudgcmcnt making*
Thus haue 1 had thee as a dreame doth flatter.
In flecpc a King,bui waking no fuch matter.
88
TZWHen thou flialt be difpodc to fee me light,
Andplacemyinerritintheeieofskorne,
Vpon thy fide,againli my fclfe ile fight,
Andprouc thccviftuous,though thou art forfwornc:
With mine ovrnc weakenefle being bcft acquainted,
Vpon thy part I can fct downe a ftory
Of faults concealdjwhcrein I am^attainted :
That thou in loofing mcfhali win much glory*
And I by this wil be a gainer too,
Forbending all my loumg rhoughts on thee.
The iniuries that to my fclfe I doe.
Doing thee vantage,dublc vantage me.
Such is my loue,to thee 1 io belong.
That for thy right,my felfc will beare all wrong,
89
SAy that thou didft forfake mee for fbmc fait.
And I will commcnc vpon that o£fcnco^
F| Spcak<
SHA^B-SflAtES
Spcaie of my lamcneflTc, and I ftraight will halt;
Againi^ thy reasons making no defence.
Thoii can{^ not(^iouc)ciirgr3cc mc halfe fo ill.
To fee a forme vpon defircd chan£;c.
As ile ivy fclfe dirgrace,kno wing thy wil,
I will acquaintance ftrangk and looke Grange;
Be abfent from thy vvalkes and in my tongue,
Thv fweet beloued name no more fhall dwell,
Lcait I(too much prophane)niouid do it wrongc:
And haplicofourcld acquaintance t el!.
For thec,againft my fclfe ile vow debate,
For I muft ncrc louc him whom thou doft hate.
90
THcn hatcme when thou v.ilt, if cuer.now.
Now w hile the world is bent my deeds to croiTe^
loyne with the (pight of fortune, make me bow.
And doc not drop in for an after lofle.-
Ah doe notjwhcn my heart hath fcapte this forrow^
Come in therereward of a conquerd woe,
Giucnota windy night arainic morrow^
To linger out a purpofd ouer-throw.
If thou wilt leaue mc, do not Icaue me laft,
When odierpettie griefeshaue done their ipight.
But in the onfet come.fo ftall I tafic
At firft the very worfl offortunes might.
And other ftraines of woe, which novv' fceme woe,
Compar'd with loflc of thec,w ill not fceme fo,
91
SOme glory in their birth,fome in their skill.
Some in their wealth, /bme in their bodies force.
Some in their garments though nev«'-fangled ill:
Some in their Hawkes and Houndi.fome m their Horfc*
And cuery humor hath his adiun^flpleafure,
Whercm it findes a ioy abouc the reft.
But thefe pcrticulers are nor my meafure.
Ail dicfc I better in one gcaeraiibeft.
Thy
Sonnets.
Thy loue Is bitter then high bir'h to me,
H'f her then \vealch,proudcrihcn garments coft,
Ohmrc dehght then Hawkcs or Horfcsbee:
And hailing chec,of all mens pride I heart.
Wretched i:i this alone, that chou maift take,
A!i this away^and me mofi wretched make,
TDVt doe thy vvorft to ftca'c thy feJfc away,
■*-^For tearme ofiife thou art alTured mine.
And life no longer then thy loue will ftay.
For it depends vpon that loue of thine.
Then need I not to feare the worrt of wrongs,
When in the Icaft of them my life hath end,
I fee, a better ftatc to me belongs
Then thar.vN hich on thy humor doth depend.
Thou canit not vex m.e with inconfta:-.: aiindc,
Since that my life on thy reuok doth lie.
Oh what a happy title do I Rnds ,
Happy to haue thy loue, happy to die-
but whats Co blclTcd faire that fcarcs no blot,
Thou maift be filce, aon yet I kiicvv it not.
SO fhall I line/uppohng thou art true,
Like a decciued husband fo loues face,
May ftill fecme loue to mCjthough alter'd new;
Thy lookes with rae, thy heart in other place*
For their can Hue no hatred in thine eye.
Therefore in that 1 cannot know thy change.
In manics lookes,the falce hearts hiftory
Is writ in moods and frouncs and wrincklcs ftrang?.
But hcauen in f hy creation did decree,
That in thy face fweet loue fbould cucr dwell,
What crc thy thought^, or thy hearts workings be,
Thv 'ookes fhouid nothing thence, but fwcctneffc tell.
How like Eaues apple doth thy beauty grow.
If thy I'A'cct ycrujc anfwcrc not thy /hovv,
H
S'HAKB-tf lARIS
THcy that hauc powrc to hurt.tnd will doe none.
That doc not do the thing,thcy mort do fliowc,
Who mouing othcrs.are thcmfelucs as ftone,
Vnmooucd,could,and to temptation flow:
They rght'y do inherrit hcaucns graces.
And husband natures ritcbcs from cxpcncc.
They are the Lords and owners oftheir ftccf,
OthcrSjbut ftewards oftheir excellence:
The fommers flowre is to the fommer fweet.
Though to it fclfe,it onely liue and die.
But if that flowre with bafe infc(ftion mcetc.
The bafeft weed out-braues his dignity:
For fvveeteft things tur.ie fawrelt by their deedcs,
Lillies thai fefter, fmell far worfe then weeds.
HOvv fweet and louely doft thou make the (hamc.
Which like a canker in the fragrant Rofc,
Doth fpot the beautie of thy budding name?
Oh in what fweets doeft thou thy fumes inclofc!
That tongue that tells theflory of thy daie«,
faking laic iuious comments on thy fport)
Cannot difpraife,but in akinde ofpraifc.
Naming thy name, blcflcs an ill report.
Oh what a manfion hauc thofe vices got.
Which for their habitation chofc out ihcc,
Where beauties vailc doth couer cucry blot,
And all things turncs tofaire that cies can fee!
Take hced(^deare heart)of this large priuiledge.
The hardcft knife ill vCd doth loofe his edge.
96
COme fay thy fault is youth,fomc wantonefle,
^Somc fay thy grace is youth and gentle fport.
Both grace and faulcs arc lou'd of more and leflc:
Thou makft faults cracck,that to thee rcfort:
As oa the finger ota throned Quccnc,
The
S O N N 1 T J,
The bafcft Icwdl wil be well eftecm'd:
So arc thofe errors that in thee arc fecnc,
To truths tranHatcdjand for true things deem d.
How many Lambs might the fternc Wolfe bctrajr,
iriikc a Lambc he could his lookcs tranflatc.
How many gazers mighlt thou lead away,
If thou wouldft vfe the ftrength of all thy ftate?
But doe not fo,I loue thee in fuch fort,
As thou being mine,niinc is thy good report,
91
HOw like a Winter hath my abfcncc beene
From theCjthepIcafurc of the fleeting yeare?
What freezings haue I felt, what darke daicsfccne?'
What old Decembers barentfle cucry where?
And yet this time remou'd was fommers time.
The teeming Autumne big with ritch increafe,
Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime.
Like widdovved wombes after their Lords deceafe:
Yet this aboundantiflue feem'd tome.
But hopeofOrphans,and vn-fathered fruitc.
For Sommcr and his pleafures waite on thee.
And thou away,the very birds arc mute.
Or if they fing,tis with fo dull a chcerc.
That Icaues looke pale,dreading the Winter* nccrc,
p8
FRom you hauc I bccnc abfcnt in the Spring,
When proud pide Aprill (drcft in all his trim)
Hath put a fpirit of youth in eucry thing:
That hcauie Saturm laught and leapt with him.
Yet nor the laics of birds,nor the fweei (mell
Of different flowers in odor and in hew.
Could make me any fummers ftcry tell:
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
No; did I wonder at the Liliics white,
Norpraife the decpc vermiliion in the Ro(c,
They wcare but fwect^but figures of delight:
G Drawne
Shake-sp e ab et,
DrawHi; after you, you pattevne of afl iliofc.
Yetfcerri'd it Winter ftill,and you away,
As with your ihaddow 1 withihefcdidplav.
T99
He forward violet thus did T chide,
Sweet thcefe whence didftiheufteale thy fwcet that
Ifnot from my loues breath, the purple pride, (!md$
Which on thy foft checkc for complexion dwells?
In my loues vcines thou hafl too grofejy died.
The Lillic I condemned for thy hand,
And buds of maricrom had ftolne thy haire.
The Rofes fearefully on thorncs did ftand,
Ourblurtiing lliame_an other white diipaire: '
A third norrcd,nor whitc,had ftolne of both,
And to hisrobbry had annexrthy breath.
But for his theft in pnde of all his growth .
AiVengfull canker catehimvp to deGch.
More flowers I jnoted,yet I none could fee.
But fwcetjor culler it had ftolne from thee.
lOO
'\7'\7 Here art thou Mufe that thou forgetft fo long,
To fpeake of that w hich giues thee all thv mioht?
Spendft thou thy furie on fomc worthleffe fon-^^e'
Darkning thy powre to lend bafe iubie<5ls light,
Returne forgetfull Mufe,and ftraight redeeme
In gentle numbers time fo idely fpent.
Sing to the eare that doth thy laies efteeme.
And giucs thy pen both skill and argument.
Rife rcfty Mufc,my loues fweet face furuay,
]f time hauc any wrincle grauen therej ,
If any,be a Satire to decav.
And make times ipoiles dilpifed euery where.
Giue my loue fame fafter then time wafts life.
So thou prcuenft his fieth.and crooked knife,
loi
OH truani Mufc what fh»lbe thy amends,
For
So NNn YS.
For thy ncglc(5l of truth in beauty cji'fi?
Bo:h truth and beauty on my loue depends.*
So dofi thou too, and th.ereiii d'pnifi'd:
Make anfvverc MufcjWilt thou not ha^Jy faic,
Tru:h needs no collour with his coiJourfixt,
Beaucic no penfell^bcauties truth to lay:
But beftisbff^^ifneuer intcrmixt.
Becaufe he needs no praife.u ilt thou be dumb?
Excufc not filence fo,for't Hes in thee,
To make him much out-!iue a gilded tombe:
And to be praiid ofagcs yet to be.
Then do thy office Mufe, I teach tnec how,
To make him fccme long hen(;e,as he fliowes now.
102
MY loue is ftrengthned though more weakc in Tec-
r loue not lefTejthogh IcfTc the {how appeare, (mine
That loue is marchandiz'd/vvhofe ritch eftceming.
The owners tongue doth pubhfh euery where.
Our loue v< as ncw,and then but in the ipring,
When I was wont to greet it with my laies.
As /'^//(UW^/Zinfumrncrs front doth fingc.
And Itopi !iis pipe in growth of riper daics:
Not that the furr.mer is lefie picafant now
Then when hermournefuUhimnsdidhufh thenjoht
But that wild mufick burthtns euery bow,
And fvveef s growne common Joofe their deare delight.
Therefore hke her, I fomc-cimc hold iny tongue:
Becaufe 1 would nocdull you with my fonc^c.
A Lack what pouerty my Miife brings forth,
Thathauingfuch askope to {how her pride.
The argument all bare is ofmorc worth
Then when it hath my added praifc befidc.
Oh blame me not if 1 no more can write!
Lookc in your glafle and there appeares a face,
That oucr-goes my blunt inuention quite.
Dulling my iinc$,and doing me difgrace.
O 2 Were
S H.MCE*SP « AR B 5».
Were it not finTull tl.cn ftrimng to mend.
To marrc the fubicifl that bcForc was well;
For to no other paflc my vcrfes tend,
Then ofyour graces and your gifts to tell.
And mqf ctnuch more then jn my yerfe can fir,
Y«ur ownc glaflc (howcs you,whcn you lookc in it.
104
TO mc faire friend yau neuer can be ol<J;
For as you were when firft your eye I cyde,
Such fcemcs your beautie ftilI:Threc Winters colde,
Hauc from the forrcfts Oiooke three fummers pride.
Three beautious fprings to yellow Amnmne tum*d.
In proceffe of the feafons hauc I fecne,
Three Aprill perfumes in three hot lunes burn'd.
Since firrt I faw you frcfh which yet are grccnc,
Ah yet doth beauty like a Dy all hand,
Stcale from his figurc^and no pace perceiu'd.
So your fweetc hcw,whi*ch mc thinkes ftill doth ftamv
Jiath motion,and mine eye may be deceaued. "
Forfcareof whichjhcare this thou age vnbred.
Ere you were borne was beauties fummer dead,
LEt aot my louc be cal'd IdolatriCj
Nor my b«loued as an Idoll fhow.
Since all alike my fongs and praifesbc
Toonc,ofonc,rtillfuch,and euer fo.
Kindc is my loue to day,to morrow kinde.
Still conrtant in a wondrous excellence.
Therefore my verfc to conftancie confin'de,
Gne thing cxprcfTmg^leaues out difference,
Faire,kinde,and irue,is all my argument,
Faire,kindc and true,varrying to other words,
And in this change is my inuention (penty
Three thcams in one,which wondrous fcopc affords* .
Faire,kinde,and true,haue often liu'd alone.
Which three till aovv,ncuCTkept fcatc in one.
Wken
\v
So UNITS,
io5
Hen iivihc Chronicle ofwaftcd time,
I fee difcriptions of the faircft wights,
And bcautie making bcautifull old rime,
In praifcofLadiesdead.andloucly Knights,
Tften in the blazon of fwcet beauties beft,
Of hand,of footCjOf lip,of eyc,of brow,
I fee their antique Pen would hauc exprcft,
Euen fuch a beauty as you mniflcr now.
So all their praifes are but prophefies
Of this our time,all you prefiguring,
And for they look'd but with dcuining eyes,
They had not (till enough your worth to fing :
For we which now behold thcfe prcfent dayes,
Haue eyes to wonder^but lack toungs to praife.
107
NOt mine ownc feares,nor the prophettck foulc.
Of the wide world.dreaming 6n things to come^
Can yet the leafeofmy true loue controule,
Suppofde as forfeit to a confin'd doome.
ThcmortallMoone hath her cclipfe indui'de.
And the fad Augurs mock their ovvne prei'age,
Incertenties now crowncthcm-fclues affur'dc.
And peace proclaimes Oliues of cndleffe age.
Now with the drops of this moft balmic time.
My loue lookes frcfh.and death to me rubfcribes,
Since fpight of iiim Jle liue in this poore rime,
While he infults ore dull and fpeachlcfle tribes.
And thou in this fhalt finde thy monument.
When tyrants crcfts and tombs of braffc are fpcnt.
108
\ /X/Hat's in thcbrainc ihatlnck may character,
^ ^ Which hath not figur'd to thee my true fpirit,
What's new to fpeake,what now to regifter.
That may cxpreflc my loue,or thy dcarc pierit ?
Nothing fwcet boy.but yet like prayers diuine,
G 3 Imuft
S HA KB-SP BARES,
I muft cich day fay ore the rery fiine,
Counting no old thing old,thou mine,! thine,
Euen as >vhcn firfi 1 hallowed thy rjireuamc.
So that cccrmll louc in loucs frc(h cafe,
Waighes not the duft andiniuryof age,
Nor giucs to neceiTary wrinckles place.
But makes antiquitie for aye his p«ge,
Finding the firlt conceit oflouc there bred.
Where time and outward forme would (hew it dead,
ONeucr fay that I was talfc of hean,
Though abfence fecm'd my flame to qualliHc,
As eafie might I from my felfe depart.
As from my foule which in thy breft doth lye :
Thatismyhomeof loue.iflhaueiang'd.
Like him that trauels I returne againe,
luft to the time,not with the time exchang'd,
So that my felfc bring water for my i^aine,
Neuerbeleeue though in my nature raignd.
All frailties that bcficge all kindes of blood.
That it could fo p' epoftcrouflie be ftain'd,
To leaue for nothing all thy fumme of good :
For nothing this wide Vniucrlc I call,
Sauc thou my Rofe,in it thoy art my all.
no
A Las 'tis truCjl haue gone here md there.
And made my felfe a motley to the vie w ,
Gor'd mine own thoughts, fold cheap what is moft dcare,
Made old offences of afFc(5lions new,
Moft true it is,that I haue lookton truth
Afconce and ftrangcly: But by all aboue,
7 hcfc blenches gauc my heart an other youth,
And worfc cifaies prou d thee my bcft of loue.
Now all is done.haue what fliali haue no end.
Mine appetite I neucrmore will grin'de
On newer proofe,to trie an older friend,
A God in louc,to whom 1 am confin d.
Tbtn
Sonnets,
Then glue mc welcome, next my hcaucn the beft,
Eucn to thy pure and moft moft louing brcft,
111
OFor my fake doe you widi fortune chide.
The guiltie goddcfle of my harmful! deed5,
That did not better for my life prouide,
Then publick meanes which publick manners breeds.
Thence comes it that my namercceiues a brand,
And almoft thence my nature is fubdu'd
To what it workes in, like the Dyers hand,
Pitty me then^and vvifli I were renu'de,
WhiKl like a willing pacient I will drinke.
Potions of Eyfellgainftmy flronginfecftion.
No bitternefle that I will bitter thinke.
Nor double pcnnancc to correct corre^^ion.
Pittic me then deare friend,and I affui e yce,
Euen that your pittic is enough to cure mee.
Ill
YOur loue and pittic doth th'impreflion filf ,
Which vulvar fcandall ftampt vpon my brow,
For w hat care I \^ ho calles mc well or ill.
So you ore-greerK: my bad,my good alow?
You are my All the worId,and I muft ftriuc,
To know my fliames and praifes from your toungfj
None clfc to me^nor I to none aliite.
That my rtecl'd fence or changes right or wrong.
In fo profound Abifme I throw all care
Of others voyces,that my Adders fence,
To cryttick and to flatterer flopped are:
Marke how with my negle(^ J doe di/pcnce.
You are fo ilrongly in my purpofe bred.
That all the world bcfides me thinkes y'are dead,
Vince I left yoa-,mine eye is in my minde.
And that which gcuernes me to goe about,
Doth part his fuo^iioOjand ispartly blind^
Scecncs
ShA KB-SP I ARBS*
Secmcs fccing,but eflfe<ftuaJIy isout-*
For it no forme dcliucrs to the heart
Orbird,offlowre,or fhapc which it doth lade,
Ofhis quick obic<5ls hath the mindc nq part.
Nor his ownc vifion houlds what it doih catch:
For if it fee the rud'fl or gcntlcft fight,
Thcmoft fvveet-fauoror dcformedft creature,
The mountainc,or the fea,the day,or night:
The Croe,or Doue,it fhapcs them to your feature.
Incapable ofmorc replcar,with you.
My moft true minde thus maketh mine rntiuc.
114
OR whether doth my minde being crown'd with you
D jinke vp the monarks plague this flattery ?
Or whether fhall I fay mine cie faith true,
And that your loue taught it this Alcnmief
To make of monfters,and things indigeft,
Such cherubines as your fwcet felfc relcmblc,
Creating euery bad a pcrfeft bcft
As faft as obiefts to his beames aflcmble;
Oh tis the firft,tis flatry in my feeing,
And my great minde moft kingly drinkes it vp.
Mine eie well knowes what with hisguftis grccing,
And to his pallat doth prepare the cup.
If it be poifon'djtis the IcfTer finnc.
That mine eye loucs it and doth firft beginnc,
115
THofe lines that I before haue writ doc lie,
Euen thofc that faid I could not loucyou dccrcr,
Ye: then my iudgement knew no realbn why,
My moft full flame fhould afterwards burne clecrcr.
But rcckcning time,whofe milliond accidents
Crcepe in twixtvowes,and change decrees of Kings,
Tan facred beautic,blunt the fharp'ft intents,
Diuert ftrong mindes to th* courfc of altring things:
Alas why fearing of times liranic.
Might
SONNI r $.
Might I not then Tay now I lou€ you bcft,
When I VI as ccrtaincorcin-ccrtainty.
Crowning theprcfent,doubiing of the reft:
Loue is a Babe , then might 1 not fay (o
To giuc full growth to that which ftill doth grow,
up
LEt me not to the marriage of true mindcs
Admit impcdimcntSjloue is not lone
Which alters whert it alteration findes,
Or bends With the remouer to remoue.
O no.it is an cucr fixed marke
That lookcs on tempcfts and is neuer fhakcn;
It is the ftar to euery wandring barkc,
Whofc worths vnknowne,al though his higth be taken.
Lou's not Times foole,though rolie lips and cheeks
Within his bending ficklcs compafle come,
Loue alters not with his brcefc houres and weckci.
But bcares it out euen to the edge of doome;
If this be error and vpon me proucd,
I neuer writ,nor no man euer loucd.
ACcufcmethuSjthatlhauefcantcd all.
Wherein I fhould your great deferts repay,
Forgot vpon your deareft loue to call.
Whereto al bonds do tie me day by day.
That I haue frequent binne with vnknown mindcs.
And giuen to time your owne deare purchafd right.
That 1 haue hoyftcd failc to al the windes
Which fhould tranfport me farthcft from your fight.
Booke both my wilfulnefle and errors downe.
And oniuftproofc furmile,accumilate,
Bring me within the leuel of your frowne.
But {Koote not at me in your wakened hate:
Since my appeale faies I did ftriuc to proouc
The conftancy and virtue of your loue
H 1x8
L
Shake-speaies
il8
Ike as to make our appctitci more kecnc
Wiih eaf'er compounds we our pallat vrgc.
As to preuent our malladics vnfecnc,
We ficken to fhun fickncflc when vs'e purge.
Eucn (o being full of your ncrc cloying fwcctncflc.
To bitter la wees d id I frame my feeding;
And fickc of weUfarc found a kind of mcctneflc.
To be difeafd ere that there was true needing.
Thus pollicie in loue t'anticipatc
The ills that werc,not grew to faults affured.
And brought to medicine a healthfull ftatc
Which rancke of goodnclfc would by ill be cured.
But thence I learnc and find the leflbn true,
Drugs poy foa him that fo fell fickc of you.
119
W7 Hat potions hauc I drunkc of S^rw* tearw
^ ^ Diftil'd from Lymbecks foulc as hell within.
Applying fcares to hopes;and hopes to fcarcs.
Still I'oohng when 1 faw my fclfe to win?
What wretched errors haih my heart committed,
Whilil it hach thought it fclfe fo bleffed neucr?
How hauc mine eies out of their Sphcarcs bene fitted
In the diOraaion of this madding tcuci?
O benefit of ill, now I find true
That better is, by euil ftill made better.
And ruin'd loue when it is built anew
Growes fairer then at firft,more ftrong,far greater.
So J rcturne rebukt to my content,
And gaine by ills tlirifc more then I haue fpent*
120
THat you were once rnkind be-friends mce now.
And for that forrow , which I then diddc feclc,
Ncedes muft I yndcr mv traafgrcflion bow, ^ .
Vnlcfle my Nerucs were braffc or hammered fteelC
For if you were by my vnkindncffe (hakcn
As
SONNBT S.
As] by yours , y'haiicpaft a hcHofTime,
And I a tyrant luue no lca(ure taken
I'o waigh how once 1 fiiifcred in your crime.
O that O'.r night of wo might haiic rcmcmbrcd
My dccpcft Icnce.how hard triicrorrovvhits.
And foone to you,as you to mc then tendrcd
The hun)bIelaluc,which\\oundcd bofomcshts!
But that your trcfpalfe now becomes a fee,
Mine raiiloms yours,and yours inuft ranlbmc mee,
III
TI^ better to be vile then vile cfteemed,
When not to be,receiues reproach of being.
And the iult plcafure Ioft,which is fo deemed.
Not by our fcchng.but by others feeing.
For why fliould others falfe aduherat eyes
Giue falutation to my fportiue blood?
Or on my frailties \\ hy are frailer fpies;
Which in their wils count bad what I think good?
Noe,l am that I am.and they that leucU
At my abufcs^rctkon vp thc:r ovsne,
1 may be ftraight though they ihem-fclucs be bcucl
By their rancke ihoughtes,my deedesmurt notbclhovvn
VnlflTe this generall euiU they maintainc.
All men are bad and in their badncfle raignc.
TThy guifr^tliy tables,are within my brainc
Full charac^tcrd w uh lafting memory.
Which fhall abouc thai idle rancke rcmainc
Beyond all date eucn to eternity.
Or at the Icaft.lo lon_:^ as braine and heart
Haue faculticby nature tofubfift,
Til each to raz.*d obliuion yecKl his part
Of thee,thy record neucr can be milt:
Thar poorc retention could not fo much hold,
Nor need I tallies thy dcarc louc to skore.
Therefore to eiuc thcnii fiom mc was 1 bold,
Ha T©
Sh AKl-SPB ARCS
To tru(} thofc taWcs that rcccauc thcc more,
To kccpe an adiunckt to remember thcc,
Were to import forgetfuhicflc in mcc.
113
NO ! Time, thou fhalt not boft that 1 doc change,
Thy pyramyds buy It vp with newer might
To me arc nothing nou<ll,nothing fttangej
They arc but drerfings ofa former fight!
Our dates are breefc,and therefor vvc admire,
What thou doft foyft vpon vs that is ould,
And rather make them borne to our defire,
Then thinke that we before hauc heard them touldt
Thy regifters and thee I both defie.
Not wondring at the prefcnt,nor the paft.
For thy records.and what we fee doth lye.
Made more or \cs by thy continual! haft:
' This I doc vow and this (hall cuer be,
I will be true dilpight thy fyeth and thcc.
124
YFmydearelouc wcrcbutthechildeofftate,
It might for fortunes baftcrd be vnfathered.
As fubie<ft to times louc,or to times hate.
Weeds among weeds,or flowers with flowers gatherd.
No it was buyldcd far from accident,
It fuffers not in fmilinge pomp,nor falls
Vnder the blow of thralled difcontent.
Whereto tjjmuiting time our fafhion calls:
It teares not polky that Heritickfy
Wnich workes on leafesof fhort numbrcd howerr,
But all alone ftands hugely pollitick,
That it nor growes with hcat,nor drownes with fhowres.
To this I witnes call the folcs of time.
Which die forgoodnes,who haucliudforcdme.
\7"\J'Ex\ ought to me I bore the canopy.
With my extern the outward hoiwring.
Or
Sonnets,
Or layd great bafcs for eternity,
Which proues ir.ore fliort then waft or ruining?
Hauc I not fcenc dv\ellcrs on forme nud fauor
Lofe all, and more by paying too much rent
For compound fweet;Forgoing fimplc fouor,
Pittifull thrillers in their gazing fpent.
Noe,Ier me be obfequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblacion,poorc but free.
Which is not mixt with feconds, knows no art.
But mutual 1 render, oncly me for thee.
Hence,thou fubbornd/»/l?rwfr, a trew fbulc
When moft impeacht,{f ands leaft in thy controulc.
126
/"X Thou my lonely Boy w ho in thy power,
^^Docft hould times fickle glairc,his {ickle,howcr?
Who haft by wayning growne,and therein fliou'ft,
Thy louers withering, as thy fwect felfc grow'ft.
If Naturc(foueraine mifteres ouer wrack)
As thou goeft onwards ftill will plucke thee backc,
Shekccpcs thee to this purpofe,that her skill.
May time difgrace,and wretched mynuitkill.
Yctfearc her O thou minnion ofherpleafurc.
She may detaine,but notftillkccpehcrtrefurcl
Her v^«^/r^(though delaydjanfwcr'd muftbe.
And her Qutctm is to render thee.
( )
( )
117
IN the ould age blacke was not counted fairc,
Or if it weare it bore not beauties name;
But now is blacke beauties fucceffiuc heire,
And Beautic fl-indcrd with a baftard fliamc,
For fince each hand hath put on Natures power.
Fairing the foule w ith Arts faulfe borrow'd face.
Sweet beauty hath no name no holy boure,
Butisprophan'djifnotliucsindifgracc.
H I Therefore
ShAKE-SPSARE 8
Tiicreforc my Miftcrfle eyes arc Raucn blackc,
Her eyes To rutcd,and they mourners Tecme,
At fuch who not borne faire no beauty lack,
Slandring Creation with a falfe eiteeme.
Yet fo they mourne becomming ofihcir woe.
That cuery toung faics beauty (hould lookc fo.
128
HOw oft when thou my mufike mufike playft,
Vpon that blcfTed wood whofe motion founds
With thy fweet fingers when thou gently fwayd,
The wiry concord that mine eare confounds,
Do I enuie thofe lackes that nimble leape.
To kiffe the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilft tny poore hps which fhould that haruc 1 reapc,
Ac rhe woods bouldnes by checblufhing ftand.
To be fo likled they would cnangc their llace.
And ficuation with thofe dancing chips,
Ore whome their fingers waike with gentle gate.
Making dead wood more bleft then liuing lips,
Since faulie lackes fo happy ari in this,
Giue thera their fi;igers,mc thy lips to kiffe.
TH'expencc ofSpirit in a wafte offhamc
Is luli in adion,and till a;5^ion , luit
Is periurd,murdrous,bIouddy full of bl ame,
Sauage,extreame,rude,ciucl],not to trult,
Inioyd no fooner but difpifed ttraight,
Paft reafon hunted, and no fooner had
Part reafbn hated as a fwoUowed bayr,
Oil purpofe layd to make the taker mid.
Made In purfut and in poflefTion Co,
Had,hauing,andin qucrt,to haue extreanie,
A bliflfe in proofc and proud and very wo.
Before a ioy propofd behind a drcame.
All this the world well kno wes yet none kno vves welli
ToUma the hcaucn chat leads men to this hell.
My
Sonnets,
150
MY Miftrcs eyes arc nothing like the Sunrf,
C urrall is farrc more red, then her lips red,
If fno\\ be ^^ hite w hy then her brclU arc dun:
]f haires be v icrs,b!ack w icrs grow on her head:
I haue fcene Rcfes d2iriaskt,rcci and vs hit^.
But no fuch Rofcs fee I in her cheekcs,
And in fome perfumes is there more delight.
Then in the breath that from my Mi fires rceket.
) louc to heare her fpeakc,yet well I know,
That Muficke hath a farre more pleafing found;
I graunt I ncuer fav a goddcffe goc,
My MiHres when ilicc v\ alkcs treads on the ground.
And yet by hcauen I thinkc my louc as rare.
As any flic bcli'd with falfe compare.
THou art as tiranous/o as thou art.
As thofe w hole beauties proudly make tlicm crucll;
For well thou knovv'ft to my dcare doting hart
Thou art thelaiicft and moft precious lewell.
Yet in good faith feme fay that thee behold.
Thy face hath not the power to make loue grone;
To fay they erre,l dare not be fo bold.
Although I fweare it to my felfc alone.
And to be fure that is not falfe I fweare
A thoufand giones but thinking on thy face,
One on anothers necke do witneffe bcarc
Thy blacke is fairefl in my iudgements place.
Jn nothing art tliou blacke faue in thy deed*,
And thence this flaunder as I thinke proceeds,
Hine eies I !oue,and they as pittying me.
Knowing thy heart torment me with difdaiflc,
Haue put on black,and louing mourners bee,
Looking vvith pretty ruih vpon my pain*.
A8d
S H A K E-S P B A R B S
And truly not the morning Sun ofHcaueii
Better becomes the gray checks ofth' Eaft,
Nor that full Starre that v(hers in the Eauca
Doth halfc that glory to the fober Weft
As thofc two njorning eyes become thy face:
O let it then as well befecmc thy heart
To mournc for me fincc mourning doth thee grace.
And fute thy pitty like in cucry part.
Then will I fwearc beauty her felfc is blacke,
And all they foulc that thy complexion lackc.
BEfhrcw that heart that makes my heart to groanc
For that decpc wound it giucs my friend and mc;
I'ft not y nough to torture me alone,
But flaue to Oaucry my fwect'ft friend muft be.
Me from my felfe thy cruell eye hath taken,
And my next felfe thou harder haft ingroffcd,
Of him,my felfe,and thee I am forfaken,
A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crofled :
Prifon my heart in thy fteele bofomes warde.
But then my friends heart let my poore heart bale,
Who ere keepes me,let my heart be his garde,
Thou canft not then vfe ri^or in my laile.
And yet thou wilt/or I being pent in thee.
Perforce am thine and all that is in oie.
CO now I hauc confcft that he is thine,
And I my felfe am morgag'd to thy will,
My felfe He forfcit,fo that other mine.
Thou wilt reftorc to be my comfort ftill:
But thou wilt not,nor he will not b« free.
For thou art couctous,and he is kmde.
He learnd but furetie-like to write for me,
Vnder that bond that him as faft doth bindc.
The ftatute of thy beauty thou wilt take.
Thou yfurer that put'ft forth all to vfe,
And
S O N N B T S.
And fiie a fricndjCsmc debter for my fake.
So him I loofe through my vnkinde abufr.
Him haue I loft, thou haft both him and me,
He paics the whole, and yet am I not free.
\i\7 Ho euer hath her wift),thou haft thy fVill^
And AF/7/ too boote.and Wtll in ouer-plus,
More then enough am I that vexc thee ftill.
To thy fvveet will making addition thus.
Wi'.t thou whofe vvll is large and fpatious,
Not once vouchfafctohidcmy will in thine.
Shall w ill in others fceme right gracious.
And in my will no faire acceptance rhine;
The fca all watcr,yet recciucs raine ftill.
And in aboundance addcth to his ftorc,
So thou bceing rich in fVtll adde to thy fVtlt,
One will of mine to make thy large ^i// more.
Let no vnkinde,no faire befeechers kill,
Thinkc all but onejand me in that one rvill.
17,6
IF thy foulc check thee that I come fo ncere,
S weare co thy blind foule that I was thy iVtll^
And will thy foule knowcs is admitted there,
Thus tarre for louc, my loue-futc fweet fuUfill.
fT///, will fulfill the treafureof thy louc,
I fill it full with vvils,and my will one,
In things of great receit with cafe we prooue,
Among a number one is reckoned none.
Then in the number let me pafle vntold.
Though in thy ftores account I one muft be.
For nothing hold me, fo it pleafc thee hold.
That nothing me,a fome-thing fwcct to thee.
Make but my name thy loue,and louc that ftill,
And then thou loueft mc for my name is VVtU.
l^J
rou blindc foolc louc, what dooft thou to mine eyes,
I That
ShAKI-SPE AKfft
Tliat they bcholi and fee not wb at they fee :
They know vvHatbeaiitie is/ec whcr< it lyes,
Yet what th^ belt is^takc the \vorf> to be.
Ifeycs corrupt by ouer-jKirtiall lookcs,
Be anchord in the baye whc»< aU men ride,
Why of cy;^s falfchood !u(t thou forged hookcs,
Whereto the iud^cment of :T>y heart is tide ?
Why iTiould my hc'art thinkcihat a feiierall plot,
Which my heart knowe? the wide worlds con.inon place?
Or mine eyes feeing this/ay this is not
To put fairc truth vpon Co foulc a faice,
In things rig!it true my heart and eyes haue erred^-
And to this falfc plague are ihey now tranffcrrcd.
71/ Hen my loue fwcarcs that fhe is made of truth^
I do belecuc her though J know flic lyes,
Tliat fhc migln thinke me fome vntutcrd youth,
Vrilearnedin the werldsfalfc fubiilties.
Thus vainely thinkiiig.thK fhc ihmkes mc young.
Although flic knovvesmy daycsare paft thebert.
Simply I credit herfafte Ipcaking tongue,
On both fides thus is fimple truth fuppreft :
But wherefore fayes fhe not fhe is vniuft ? .
And wherefore fay not I that I arp old ? >
O loucs beft habif*'i%in fccming tnift,.
A«d age in loue,loues not t'hauc yeares ioW;=
Therefore I lye with hcr,apd fhc with inc.
And in our fauUsby^Iycswc flattered bc^
119
o
Call not me to iuAifie tUc wrong.
r hat thy vnkindnefle laycs vpon my heart,
Wound mc not with thine eye but with th* toqng, .
Vie power w ith powcr.and flay me not by Art,
Tell mcthou lou'itelfc-whcrfjbut in my fight,
Deare heart forbea'c to glance thine eye afidc.
What occ4ft thou wound with.tuniiing wh^n thy might
Sonnets.
Is more then my ore-prcfl defence can bide?
Let me txtufc thcc,ah niyloue wcllknowcs.
Her prcttic lookcs luuc bccnc mine enemies,
And therefore frotn my face flic turncs my foes,
That they clfc-w here might dart'their iniurics ;
Yet do not fo,but fincc I am ncerc flainc.
Kill mc out-ri^ht with Iookcs,and rid my paine.
BE wife as thou art crucII,do not prcfTc
My toung-tide patience with too much difdainc :
Lcart forrovv lend me words and words cxprefle,
The mrmner of my pittic wanting painc.
7fl might teach thee witte better it '.vcarc.
Though nor to loue.yct lone to teii me fo,
As tcfiicrick-mcn wlicn their deaths be ncerc,
No n^wes but health from their Phifitions know.
For if I fliould difpaire I fl-jould grow madde.
And in my madnefl'c might fpeakc ill of thee.
Now this ill vvrefting world is grownc fo bad,
Madde flanderers by madde eares bcleeucd be.
That I may not be fo, nor thou be lyde, (wide.
Bcarc thine eyes flraight , though thy proud heart goc
I 141
N faith I doe not lone thcc with mine cj'es.
For they in thee a thoufand errors note.
But 'tis my heart that loues what they difpife.
Who in difpight of view is plcafd to dote.
Nor are mine cares with thy toungs tune delighted,
Nor tender fechng to bafe touches prone,
Nor tafte, nor fmcll, dcfire to be inuited
To any fcnfuall feali with thee alone ••
But my fiue wits,nor my fiue fences can
Difwade one foolifh heart from feruing thcc,'
Wholeaucs vnfwai'd thelikcne(fcof aman.
Thy proud hearts flauc and vaflfall wretch to be J
Oncly niy plague thus farrc I count my gainc,
That (he that makes mc finnc,awards mc painc.
1 % Loue
SHAKB-SPEAREf
14s
LOuc is my finnc,and thy deaic vertuc hate,
Hate of my finnCjgroundcd on finfull louing,
O but with mine, compare thou thine owne flatc.
And thou fhalt finde it mrtrits not reproouing,
Or if it do, not from thofc lips of thine,
That haue proplun'd their fcarlet ornaments.
And feald faJfe bonds of loue as oft as mine, I
Robd others beds rcuenues of their rents. j
Beitlavvfull I louethceasthoulou'lUho/e, j
Whome thine eyes wooc as mine importune thee,
Roote pittie in thy heart that when it growes, ;
Thy pitty may deferue to pittied bee.
If thou dooft feeke ro haue what thou dooft hide, 1
By felfe example mai'lt thou be denide, |
IOc as a carefullhufwife runncs to catch, j
^Oiie ofher fethcred creatures broake away, ;
Sets downeherbabe and makes all fwiftdifpatch 1
In purfuit of the thing (lie would haue flay: j
Xyhiirt her neglcdcd child holds her in chace, I
Cries to catch her whofe bufie care is beht, i
To follow that which flics before her face:
Not prizing her poore infants difcontcnt; 1
So runft thou after that which flies from thee, I
Whilft I thy babe chace thee a farre behind, i
But if thou catch thy hope tu'rne back to me:
And play the mothers part kiflc mc,be kind.
So will I pray that thou maift haue thy IViUy :
If thou turne back aiwi my loude crying flill, ■*
144 I
TWo loucs I haue of comfort and difpairc.
Which like two fpirits do fugieii me ftiU,
The better angcll is a man rig.h£ fairc:
The worfcr fpirit a woman coUour'd il. j
To win mc foone to heli my fcmall euiil, i
Tempteth j
Sonnets.
Tcmpteth my better angel from my Cight,
And would corrupt iny faint to be a diuel:
Wooing his purity with her fowlc pride.
And whether that my angel be turn'd finde,
Sulpcct 1 m.iy.yet not dirciUy tell.
But being both from me both to each friend,
I geffc one angel in an others hcl.
Yet this iTial I nere know but Hue in doubt,
TiJl my bad angel fire my good one out.
THofc lips that Loucs owne hand did make,
Breath'd forth the found that faid I hate,
To me that languillit for her fake.*
But when fhe faw my wofull (tatc.
Straight in her heart did mercie come.
Chiding that tongue that euer fwect.
Was vfde m giuing gentle dome:
And tought it thus a new to grectc:
I hate fhe alterd with an end.
That foiiow'd it as gentle day.
Doth follow night who like a fiend
From heaucn to hell is flowne away^
i hate,from hate away fhc threw.
And fau'd my life faying not you,
POore foule the center of my finfull earth.
My finfull earth thefe rebbell powres that thcc array,
Why do(\ thou pine within and fuffer dearth]
Painting thy outward walk {o coftlie gay?
Why fo large ccft hauing (o fhort a leafe,
Doft thou ypon thy fading manfionfpcnd?
Shall wormcs inheritors of this exceffe^
Eatevp thy charge.'is this thy bodies end?
Then foule Hue thou vpon thy icruants lofTcy
And let thatpinc to aggrauat thy ftorc;
Euy ccaonesdimnc in ielHng homes ofdioffe:
1 3 Wichio
SHAKt-SPlAHES
Within be fed, without be rich no more.
So Hialt thou feed on death.that feeds on men,
And death once dcad,ther's.no more dying then.
147
MY louc is as a feaucr longing ftill,
For that which longer nurfcch the difeafe,
Feeding on that which doth prcferuc the ill,
Th'vncertainc ficklie appetite to pleafc;
My rcafon the Phifltion to my loue,
Ant^ry that his prcfcriptions are not kept
Hath left nie.and I dcfpcratc now approoue,
Dchrc is dcath,which Phifick did except.
Part cure I am,now lleafon is paH care,
And francick madde with eucr-moi e vnreft,
My thoughts and my difcourfc as mad mens are.
At randon from the truth vaincly cxprcft.
For I haue fworne thee fairejand thought thcc bright.
Who art as black as hcll^as darke as night.
148
OMe ! what eyes hath loue put in my head,
Which hauc no correfpondence w ith true fight,
Or it tliev haue,whcrc is my ludgment fled.
That cenfures falfely what they fee aright ?
If that be faire whereon my falfecyes dote.
What meanes the world to fay it is not fo ?
If it be not,then loue doth well denote,
I>oucs eye is not fo true as all menstno,
How can it .' Ohow can loues eye be true.
That is fo vext with watching and with tearesf
No maruaile then though I miftake my view.
The funne it felfc fees not, till beauen cleercs,
O cunning louc,with tcares thou keepft me blindc,
Leait eyes well feeing thy foulc faults (hould finde,
149
CAnft thou O cruell,fay I louc thee not.
When I againft my fcifc with ihec pertake :
Doc
Sonnets.
T)oc I not till like on thcc when I forgot
Ami of ii)y Itlfc, all tiranc for thy fake?
Who JKiuth thcc tiiac I doc ca'l my frieiu',
On vvlu'iii troun (^ ilioii that I iloc taiiiic \po.i^
N.iy it ihou lo'.vrd on iiicJoc I not lj)cn(i
R'iKii<.',c vpon my fc t'c vvich prdciit lUi^iKi'
\V\ at men it tio I in my fcltc rclpccH-,
'I'hnt is (opiouiiff ihy fcniicfto ililpilc,
Wiicn aM my hcli doth woifliip thy dcTctf)-,
Commaiidcd by the morion ofthiiic cyc5.
Jiiit lout hate on for now 1 know thy mindf,
Thofctliatcan fee thou lou'lVind I airi blind,
OI 1 fi ')in whnr po-A re hull thou this po'.vrcTilll niiglif,
With iiiiiiiru irniy my heart to fw.iy,
To makt- lilt giuc the he to my true iij;lit ,
And 1 Acre that brightncHe doth not <;ra«.eihe day?
Whence hali iliou this beeomn.ir.j; of liung'. il,
That in the very rcfufe of thy ilceds,
There i^ filch ltreii(;[h and v.artan:i'cof s'r.ill,
Tliat in my minde ihy v\otll ail bcH oxccd'ji*
Wiio taiij^hi thee ho.v to niai-e iiu- lone ihee nuMC,
The itiDrc ! hcare and fee iuft caiii'eof hate,
Oil ifioiij'/n { lone what others doe abhor,
Willi othtis thou (lioiildlt not al)hor my (late,
iftliy vn.voi thinclfe raifll louc in mc.
More worthy I to be belou'd of thee.
I( )ijeis too yoiin^ to know whatconlcicncc i?,
^Yet v.hoknowes nut con((.ience is bcnnc (<fiouc.
Then };eni!c cheater vr;;cnot my amide,
l-'-aft guilty of iTiy fault <. thy f 'Acct kite prouc.
\''H thou betraymgmc, I doe betray
My 11- Ader part to my ^rolc bodies ireafoiT,
Myfoiile d(;ih If II my boiiy that he may,
^ But
ShAKE-S?B ARES
But ryfing at thy namcdoth point out thee.
As his triumphant pri2e,proucl ofthis pride.
He is contented thy poore drudge to be
To ftand in thy affaires,fall by thy Cidc.
No want of confciencc hold it that I call,
Herloue^for vvhofc deareloue Irifc and fall.
INlouing thee thou know'ft I am forfworne.
But thou art twice forfworne to me lone fwearing.
In ad thy bed-vow broake and new faith tornc.
In vowing new hate after new loue bearing:
But why of two othcs breach doe I accufe thee,
When I breake tvventytlamperiur'd mod:.
For all my vowes arc othes but to mifufe thee;
And all my honeft faith in thee is loft.
Forlhauefworne deepcoihesofthy deepekindncfle:
Othes of thy loue,thy truth,thy conftancic.
And to inlighten thee gaue eyes to blindneffe.
Or made them fvrere againft the thing they fee.
Fori hauefworne thee faircrmoreperiurde eye.
To fwcre againft the truth fo foule a lie.
Cf^pid laid by his brand and fell a fleepe,
A maide otDyaKs this aduantagc found.
And his loue-kmdling fire did quickly fteepc
In a could vallie-fountaine of that ground:
Which borrowd froui this holie fire of loue,
A datelefle liuely heat ftill to indure,
And grew a feething bath which yet men proue,
Againft ftrang malladies a foueraigne cure:
But at my miftrcs eic loues brand new fired ,
The boy for triall needcs would touch my breft,
1 fick withall the helpc of bath defired.
And thethet hied a fad diftemperd gueft.
But found no curPj'^hc bath for my heipe lies,
Where Ctf^ got new firc;my miftr es eye.
^S^
^ O N !>! E T S.
TTHe little Louc-God lying once aflccpe,
■■■ Laid by his fide his heart inflaming brand,
Whilft many Nymphes that vou d chaft life to keep,
Came tripping by,but in her maiden hand,
The fayreft votary tooke vp that fire,
Which many Legions of true hearts had warm*d.
And fo thcGcnerallofhot defirc.
Was fleeping by a Virgin hand difarm'd.
This brand flie quenched in a coole Well by.
Which from loucs fire tooke heat perpetuall.
Growing a bath and healthful! remedy.
For men difeafd,but I my Mifiriflc thrall,
Came there for cure and this by that I proue,
Loucs fire hcaces vvater,waccr coolcs not loue.
FINIS.
K
A LoDcrs complaint.
William Shak2-spbari, i
IrjRom oiFa hill whofc concaue wombc reworded, \
Jl a plaintfuU (iory frcm a fiftring vale \
My rpirritst*attend this doblevoycc accorded, -
And downc I laid to lift the fad tun'd talc.
Ere long eipied a fickle maid full pale j
Tearing ofpapcrs breaking ringa a twaine,
Stonning her world with forrowes, wind and rainci^
Vpon her head a plattid hiue of ftraw, <
"Which fortified her vifagc from the Sunne,
Whereon the thought might thinke fometimcitfaw
The carkas of a beauty fpent and dorme, '
Time had not fithed all that youth begun.
Nor youth all quit,but fpight of heauens fell rsige, ;
Some beauty pccpt,through lettice of lear'd age^ \
1
Oft did flic hcaue her Napkin to her eync, ]
Which on it had conceited chare<5lers: •
Laundring the filkcn figures in the brine.
That feafoned woe had pelleted in teares.
And often reading what contentsit bearess
Asoftenfliriking vndiftinguirht wo, \
In clamours ofallfize both high and low, j
Some-times her leueld eyes their carriage ride,
Aj they did battry to thefpheres intend:
Sometime diuerced their poore balls are tide, ]
To th orbed earth ;fometimes they do extend, |
Their view right on,4mon their gafcs lend, i
C O M H. A I N T
To tucty place at once and no where fixt.
The mind and fight dirtra6\cdly commxic.
Hcrhaire norloofc nor ti'd in fornjall plat,
Prochimd in her acarclclTc hand ofprivic;
For fome vntuck'd dcfcendcd her rticu'd har.
Hanging her pale and pined chccke behdc.
Some in her thrceden fillet ftill did bide.
And crew to bondage would not breake from theiKC,
Though Hackly braided in loofe negligence.
A thoufand fauoursfroma maund fl^c drcv,*,
Ofambcr chriRall and of bedded let,
Which one by one Ok in a riucr threw,
Vpon whofe weeping margcnt fhc was fct,
Like vfery applying wet to wet ,
Or Monarches hands that lets not bounty falJ,
Where want cries fomcibut where cxccflc begs all.
Of folded fchcdulls had fhemany a one,
Which fhcpcrufdjfighdjtorc and gauc the flud,
Cracktmany aringofPofied gold and bone,
Biddin'' them find their Sepulchcrs in mud.
Found yet mo letters fadly pend in blood.
With fleidcd filke/cate and affe6lcdly
Enfwath'd and fcald to curious fecrecy.
Thefe often bath'd fhc In her fliixiuc cies.
And often k ift,and often gaue to tcare,
Cried O falfe blood thou regKler ot lies.
What vnapproued wicncs dooi\ thou beare!
Inke would haue fecm'd more blackeand dainficdheaic*
This faid in top of rage the lines fhc rents.
Big difcontcnt/o breaking their contents.
A reucrcnd man that gnid his cattcU ny,
K 3 ^omc.
A L t) V E R S
Somciimc a bluPever that the ruffle ktKW
OfCourt ofCittie,and hadlet go by .
The fwiftcft hourcs obferucd as they flew.
Towards this aflliiled fancy faftlydrew:
And priuiledg'd by age defires to know
In brccfe the grounds and motiues of her wo.
So flides he downc vppon his greyncd !?at;
And comely dirtant fus he by her fide.
When hce againc defires her,being fatte.
Her grccuancc with his hearing to deuidc*
If that from him there may be ought applied
Which may her fuffering extafie affwagc
Tis promifi in the charitic of age ,
Father fhc faies,though in mccyou behold
The iniury of many a blafting houre;
Let it not tell your Judgement I am old,
N <t agCjbut forrow,ouer me hath power;
I might as yet hauc bene a fprcading flower
Frcfh to my felfe, if I had fclte applyed
Louc to my fclfe, and to no Louc befide.
But wo is mec, too early latttendcd
A youthfull fuit it was to gainc my grace;
O one by natures outwards Co commended.
That maidens eyes ftucke ouer all his face,
Louc lackt a dwelling and made him her place*
And when in his fawc parts fhee didde abide,
Shce was new lodg'd and newly Deified.
His browny locks did hang in crooked curies,
And eucry light occafion of the wind
Vpon his lippes their filken parcels hurles,
Whats fweet to do,to do wil aptly find,
F^di cycthatfavy hiiudid inchaunt the rainde:
For
Complain r
For on his vifagc was in little dravvnc,
What largcncilc tlunkcs in parradifc vvasfawne.
Smal Hicvv ofman was yet vpon his chinnc,
His phcnix downe began but to appcare
Like vnrhornc vcluct,on that tcrmlelTc skin
Whole bare out-brag'd the web it fccm'd to were.
Yet fliewed his vifage by that coft more dcarc,
Andn:ce aftcf^ions waucring (tood in doubt
If bert were as it vvas,cr belt without.
His qualities were beautious as his forme,
For maiden tongu'd he was and thereof free;
Yet if men mouM him,was he fuch a ftorrac
As oft twixt May and Aprill is to fee.
When windes breath fvvcct,vnruly though tlpcy bcc.
His rudeneffe fo with his authorized youth.
Did liucry falfenefl'e in a pride of truth,
Wei could hce ride, and often men would fay
That horfehismettcU from his rider takes
Proud of fubiedion,noble by the fwaic, ^makc*
What roundsjwhat bounds,what courfe what flop he
And controuerfie hence a quertion takes.
Whether the horfe by him became his deed.
Or he his mannad'g , hy'th wel doing Steed.
But quickly on this fide the verdidt went.
Hi s reall habitude gaue life and grace
To appertainings and to ornament,
Accomphfht in him-fclfe not in his cafe:
AH ayds thcm-felues made fairer by their place.
Can for addicions,yet their purpofd trimme
Pcec'd not his grace but were al grac'd by him.
So on the tip of his fubduing tongue
K 3 AD
A Lo VERf
Ail kindc ofargumcnts and queftion dcepe^
Al replication ptompt,and reafon ftrong
For his aduantagc ftill did wake and flccp,
• To make the weeper laugK,the laugher wccpw
He hadthe dialeft and different skil.
Catching al paffions in his craft of will.
That hcc diddc in the general bolome ralgne
Of young, of old, and iexcs both inchanted ,
To d wel with him in thoughts,or to remainc
In perfonal duty/oUowing where he haunted,
Confent*sbewitcht,crchc dcfirc hauc granted.
And dialogu'd for him what he would fay,
Askt their ovvn wils and made their wiU obey.
Many there were that did his pi<5>ure gettc
To feruetheircies.andinitput their mind,
Likcfoolej that in ih' imagination fct
The goodly obic6ls which abroad they find
Oflands and manfion»,thcirs in thought aflign*d.
And labouring in moe pleafurcs to beflovv them.
Then the true gouty Land-lord which doth owe them.
So many hauc that ncuer toucht his hand
Sweetly fuppofd them miftreffc of his heart:
My wofull fclfe that did in frecdome ftand.
And was my ownc fee fimpIe(not in part^
What with his art in youth and youth in art
Threw my affe(5lions in his charmed power,
Rcfcru d the ftalke and gauc him al my flower.
Yet did I not as forae my equals did
Dcmaund of him,nor being defircdyecldcd*
Finding my felfc in honour fo forbiddc.
With fafcft diftaticc I mine honour fhcelded,
£)u>enence for mc aiinv buiwackcs buildcd
Of
COUPLAINT,
Of proofs new bleeding which rcmaind the folic
Ofehis fal(c IcwcU^and his amorous fpoile.
But ah who euer fhun d by precedent.
The dciVin'd ill fhe muft her fclfc afTay,
Or forc'd examples gainft her owne content
To put the by-paft pcrnls in her way?
Counfaile may flop a while what will not (hy;
For when we rage,aduife is often fcenc
By blunting vs to make our witi more keene.
Nor glues it fatisfav^ion to our blood.
That wee muft curbc it yppon others proofc,
To be forbod the fvvcets that fcemes fo good.
For feare of harircs that preach in our behoofc;
O appetite from judgement ftand aloofct
The one a pallate hath that needs will tafte.
Though reafon wccpe and cry it is thy laft.
For further I could fay this mans vntrue.
And knew the pattcrnes of his foule beguiling.
Heard where his plants in others Orchards grew.
Saw how deceits wereguilded in his fmiling.
Knew rovvcSjVvcr c euer brokers to defiling.
Thought Chara6l:ers and words meerly but aitr
And bafiards of his fbule adulterat heart.
And long vpon thefc termcs I held my Citty,
Till thus hee gan'bcfiegemc : Gentle nftaid *<
Haue of my fuffcring youth fome feeling pitty
And be not of my holy vo wes affraid,
Thatsto ye fworncto none was euer (aid.
For fcafts of loue I haue bene call'd vnto
Till now did nere inuite nor neucr vow.
AH my offenas that abroad you fee
K 4 Afc
A L o V E R *
Are crrort of the blood hone ofthe roinds
Louc made them not,wkh a<aurc they may be.
Where neither Party is nor crew nor kind.
They fought thetr ftiarte that fo their fliamc did find.
And fo much leffe of (hame in me remaincs,
By how much of me their leproch comaincs.
Among the many that mine eyes haUe ftenc.
Not one whofe flame my hart fo much as Vvarmcd,
Or my affe6lion put to th, fmalleft teene,
Oi any of my leifures euer Charmed,
Harmc haue I done to them but nerc was harmed.
Kept hearts in Iiueries,but mine owne was free,
And raignd commaunding in his monarchy.
Looke hcarc what tributes wounded fancies (cnt mc.
Of palyd pearles and rubies red as blood;
Fi^^uring that they their paflions likcwife lent me
Of grecfe and blufhes, aptly vnder flood
In bloodleffe white,and the encrimfon'd mood.
Effects of terror and deare modefly ,
Encampt m hearts but fighting outwardly.
And Lo behold thcfe tallents of their heir, ^
With twifted mettle amoroufly empleacht
I haue receau'd from many a feuef al faire.
Their kind acceptance, wepingly befeecht.
With th'annexions of faire gems inricht, ' >•
Anc^deepc brain d fonncts that did amplihis :
Each flones deare Naturc,woah and quallity.
The Diattiond?why twas beautiful! and hard.
Whereto his inuifd properties did tend.
The deepe greenc Emrald in whofe frcfh regard,
Weake fights their fickly radicnce do amend. -
The hcauen he wd Saphic and the Opali blend
With
Complaint.
With obiedls many fold ; each fcucrall ftonc,
With wit well blazond fmjl'd or made fomc monc,
Lo all thefe trophies ofaffc£lions hot.
Of pcnfiu'd and fjbdcvv'd dcfircs tlie tender,
Nature hath chargd me that I hoord them not ,
But yeeld them vp where I n)y fclfe muft render:
That is to you my origin and ender :
For thcfc of force muflyour oblations be,
Since I their Aulter,)euenpatrone mc.
Oh then aduaTJcc(ofyours^thatphrafcles hand,
Whofe white weighes downe the airy fcale of praife.
Take alltliefefimiiics to your owne command,
Hollowed w ith fighcs that burnin<z lunscs did ratfe:
What me your minii-ler for you oba ics
Workes vnder you, and to y our audit comes
Their diitra(fbparcells,rn combined fummcs. . *
Lo this deuice was fent me from a Nun,
Or Sifter fan (f^ificd of holieft note.
Which late her noble fuit in court did ihun,
Whofe rateft hauings made the blofloms dote.
For fhe was fought by fpirits of ritcheft cote.
But kept cold diftancc.and did thence remoue,
To fpend her liuing in eternall louc.
But oh my fwcet what labour ifl to Icaue,
The thing we haue not.maflring what not (triues,
Phying the Place which did no forme rereiuc.
Playing patient fports in vnconftraind giues,
She thatvhcr fame fo to her felfe contriucs.
The fcarrcs of battaiic fcapeth by the flight,
And makes her abfcncc valiant,not her might.
Oh pardon me in that my boafl is :tuc,
L The
A LoviRs
Th c accident which brought mc to her elf,
Vpon the iTKjment did her force fubdcwc.
And now rhc would the caged cloifter flie:
Reli<'ious louc put out religions eye:
Not to be tempted would (he be cnur'd.
And no-A to tempt all liberty procure.
How mightic then you are, Oh heart me tell.
The broken bofoms that to me belong,
Hiue emptied all their fountaines in my well:
And mine I powre yourOcean all amonge:
I ftrong ore them and you ore mc being Hrong,
Mud for your vi(ftori^Tsal]congert,
As compound loue to phifickyour cold breft.
My part<5 h ad powre to charmc a facred Sunnc,
Who difciplin'd I dieted in grace,
Bclecu'd her cies,whcn they t' afTaile begun.
All vowcs and confecrations giuing place:
O moftpotentiallloue,vowe, bond,nor fpacc
In thee hath neither fiing,knot,nor confine
For thou art all and all things els are thine.
When thou impreffcft what are precepts worth
Offlale exampkPwhenthou wilt inflame.
How coldly thofe impediments ftand forth
Of wealth of filliall fcare,lawe, kindred fame, f'fliame
Loues armes arc peace, gainft rule »gainft fence, gainft
And fweetcns in the fufiring pangues it beares.
The Alices of all forces, Qiockes and feares.
Now all thcfc hearts that doe on mine depend.
Feeling it breake,with bleeding groanes they pine,
And fupplicant their fighes to you extend
To leauc the battrie that you make gainft mine.
Lending fofc audience, to toy f ACCt defigae^
And
C OMPLAIfJT.'
And credent foulcjio that ftrong bonded oth,
That fliall prefcrrc and vndcrtakc my troth,
,This faidjhis watric eics he did difmounc,
Whofc fightcs till then were Icaucld on my face,
Each chceke a riucr running from a fount,
With brynifh currant downc-ward flowed a pace:
Oh how the channell to the flreamc gauc grace!
Who glaz.'d with Chriftail gate the glowing Rofes,
That flame through water which their hew inclofcc,
Oh father,what a hell of witch-craft lies.
In the fmall orb of one pcrticubr teare?
I^ut w ith the invndation of the eies;
What rocky heart to water will not weare?
What bref^ fo cold that is not warmed hcare.
Or cleft effc6l,cold modcfty hot wrath:
Both fire from hence,and chill extinfhire hath.
For loe his paffion but an art of craft,
Euen there rcfolu'd my reafon into tcarcs.
There my w hitc flole of chaftity I daft,
Shookc off my fobcr gardcs,and ciuill fcarcs,
Appcare to him as he to me appcares:
Ail meltingjthough our drops this diffrencc bore,
His poifon'd me, and mine did him reflorc.
In him a plenitude of fubtle matter.
Applied to Cautills,all flraing formes rccdues,
Of burning blufhcs,or of weeping water,
Or founding palenefTe : and he takes and leaucs.
In eithers aptncflc as it beft deceiues:
To blufh at ipecchcs ranck , to weepe at woes
Or to turnc white and found at tragick (howcs.
That not a heart which in his Icucll came,
L a CouM
Thb Loviki
Could fcape the hauc of his all huriing'ayme,
Shcwinc taire N*ture is both kindc and tatnc :
And ?aild in them did vvinnc whom he would maime,
Againft the thing he rought.he would exclaime.
When he moft burnt in hart-wifht luxutie,
He prcacht pure maidc,and praifd cold cliaditic.
Thus mcerely ^vith the garment of a grace.
The naked and concealed fcind he coucrd,
Thatth'vncxpcrfent gauc the tempter place.
Which like a Cherubin aboue them houcrd,
Who young and (implc would not be Co loucrd*
Aye nac 1 kll.and yet do qucftion make,
What I Ihould doc againc for fuch a fake.
O that infe(5^ed moyfturc of his eye,
O that falfe fire which in his chccke fo glowd :
O that forc'd thunder from his heart did flyc,
O that fad breath his fpungie lungs beftovvcd^
O all that borrowed motion fecming owed, ,
Would yet againc betray the fore-betrayed.
And new pcrucrt a reconciled Maidc,
FINIS.
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APR 151984
SE fffONILL
1 1981
a C.b & HK h L E Y I
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