b.,
 
 y^^i-M^t^u^ % ■ /4^$«>v^>o^z_-^
 
 The better angel is a man right fair, 
 The worser spirit a woman colour' d ill " 
 
 Sonnet CXLIV
 
 Copyright, 1901 
 
 By 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 
 
 Preface. 
 
 COUE( 
 LIBRAP 
 
 /) I 
 
 1^0 1 
 
 Early Editions. " Venus and Adonis '' was first printed 
 ill Quarto, in 1593, with the following title-page: — 
 
 VENVS 
 AND ADONIS 
 
 Vilia miretur valgus ; mlhijlauus Apollo 
 Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua 
 
 Printer's 
 Device : — 
 
 An anchor with 
 
 the motto 
 *Anckora spsif 
 
 LONDON: 
 Imprinted by Richard Field, and are to be sold at 
 
 the signe of the White Greyhound in 
 
 Paules Churchyard. 
 
 »593- 
 
 The text of " V.cnus and Ado]its " is remarkable for its 
 accuracy, and there can be little doubt that the poet him- 
 self superintended the printing of the poem, and was 
 responsible for the wording of the title-page. A signifi- 
 cant fact is Shakespeare's choice of the printer : Richard
 
 Preface VENUS AND ADONIS, 6c. 
 
 Field was the son of Henry Field, a tanner of Stratford- 
 on-Avon ; he was apprenticed to a printer in London in 
 the year 1579, and took up his freedom in 1587. Amongst 
 his earliest enterprises was a beautiful edition of Ovid's 
 Metamorphoses, 1589. In 1592, Shakespeare's father, at 
 Stratford, was engaged in appraising Henry Field's 
 goods; in 1593, in London, Richard Field was engaged 
 in printing William Shakespeare's first poem: the copy- 
 right was registered by the printer, for himself, on April 
 the 1 8th. The publisher of the first three editions was 
 Field's friend, John Harrison. The popularity of the 
 poem is attested by the issue of no less than twelve subse- 
 quent editions between 1593 and 1636;"^ of some of these 
 editions only single copies have come down to us, and it 
 is probable that some editions have been thumbed out of 
 existence. The famous Isham unique copy of the 1599 
 issue was by mere chance discovered in 1867 ; f similarly, 
 evidence may be found of other editions, more especially 
 between the years 1596 and 1599, 1602 and 1627. 
 
 Date of Composition. Shakespeare, in his Dedication 
 to the Earl of Southampton, J describes the poem of 
 
 (Bodleian) ; 1617; 1620; 1627; 1630; (?) 1630; 1636. 
 
 t Cp. Charles Edmond's reprint of his precious " find," 1870. A 
 fac-simile of the First Edition is among Dr. Furnivall's Quarto 
 Eac-similes (No. 12). 
 
 X The Earl of Southampton was at this time about twenty ; he 
 was born October 6, 1573; his father died in 1581 ; at the age of 
 twelve he entered St. John's College, Cambridge. Entered at 
 Gray's Inn, London, 1589. He rose in the Queen's favour, but his 
 love for Elizabeth Vernon (Essex's cousin) lost him the Queen's 
 interest, in 1595. He married Elizabeth Vernon in 1598. (A full 
 biography is given in Massey's Shakespeare's Sonnets.) 
 
 Chettle was probably alluding to Southampton when, in his 
 Kind Heart's Dream (1592) he refers "to divers of worship" 
 who- report Shakespeare's " uprightness of dealing," and his 
 " facetious grace in writing."
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS, 6c. Preface 
 
 " Venus and Adonis " as the " first heir of my invention " ; 
 some critics, taking these words in their absolutely literal 
 sense, refer the composition of the piece to the poet's 
 younger days at Strat ford-on- Avon, but there is little to 
 be adduced in favour of this view, and there is no need 
 to strain the words to bear this meaning. By the term 
 *' invention " Shakespeare probably implied lyrical or epic 
 poetry, as opposed to dramatic writings ; and with ref- 
 erence to the latter it must be remembered that no Shake- 
 spearian play had as yet been printed.* 
 
 Venus and Adonis must be taken in close connection- 
 with such poems as Lodge's Glancus and Scilla, and Mar- 
 lowe's Hero and Leander ; to the former of these small 
 "classical epics" (1589) Shakespeare's poem seems to 
 have been indebted for its versification, as perhaps also for 
 much of its characteristic tone and diction. t Marlowe's 
 
 * Shakespeare's " affectionate love of nature and natural ob- 
 jects," his many vivid pictures of .country life, as evidenced in 
 Venus and Adonis, are dwelt upon by those in favour of assigning 
 an earlier date to the poem ; they point specially to the famous 
 hunted hare ; the eagle turning on her prey ; the description of the 
 horse ; the signs of weather, and the closing in of the day, etc. It 
 must be borne in mind that the theme of the poem lent itself to 
 the introduction of these rural reminiscences, which throughout 
 Shakespeare's career, and more especially in his early plays, exer- 
 cised their attraction ; many links might be pointed out connecting 
 Venus and Adonis and Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 t The following is a typical example of Lodge's verse : — 
 " He that hath seen the szveet Arcadian boy 
 IViping the purple from his forced wound, 
 His pretty tears betokening his annoy, 
 His sighs, his cries, his falling on the ground. 
 
 The echoes ringing from the rocks his fall. 
 The trees zvith tears reporting of his thrall" etc. 
 An interesting problem is whether Shakespeare at first at- 
 tempted a sonnet-sequence on the subject, and subsequently re- 
 jected that form in favour of the less monumental six-line stanza 
 {vide Passionate Pilgrim, iv. v. ix.).
 
 Preface VENUS AND ADONIS, &c. 
 
 poem, left unlinished at its author's death on June i, 1593, 
 has certain points in common with Shakespeare's, but it 
 is difficult to determine the question of priority. The 
 famous quotation from Hero and Leander in As You 
 Like It, was made after the posthumous publication of 
 the poem in 1598, and there is no direct evidence of Shake- 
 speare's knowledge of Marlowe's work before that date. 
 Marlowe's " rose-cheeked Adonis " was perhaps therefore 
 a reminiscence of the opening lines of Shakespeare's 
 poem, and the debt was not the other way, as has been 
 ' suggested. There can be no question that the two poems 
 belonged to the same time. 
 
 It is noteworthy that 1593 was a year of plague, and 
 London was so sorely stricken that all theatrical perform- 
 ances were forbidden ; this m.eant leisure for Shakespeare. 
 The companies went on tour in the course of the year; 
 whether Shakespeare was one of the travelling actors is 
 not known. 
 
 Early References to "Venus and Adonis." The 
 
 earhest references to " the first heir " of Shakespeare's 
 '* invention " belong to 1598, when Richard Barnfield in 
 his ''Remembrance of Some English Poets'' celebrates 
 Shakespeare's " honey-flowing vein " : — 
 
 " Whose ' Venus ' and whose ' Lucrcce' sweet and chaste, 
 Thy name in fame's immortal book have plac't ; " 
 
 in the same year Francis Meres published his famous 
 " Comparative Discourse of our English Poets with the 
 Greek, Latin, and Italian Poets " ; " as the soul of Eu- 
 phorbus," he observed, " was thought to live in Pythag- 
 oras, so the sweet witty soul of Ovid lives in mellifluous 
 and honey-tongued Shakespeare', w^itness his Venus and 
 Adonis, his Lucrece, his sugared Sonnets among his pri- 
 vate friends," etc. Again, in 1599, in John Weever's 
 verses ''Ad GuUchnum Shakespeare,'' the same epithet, 
 " honey-tongucd'' is repeated : —
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 6c. Preface 
 
 " Honic-tongued Shakespeare, zohen I saw thine issue, 
 I swore Apollo got them and none other, 
 Their rosie-tainted features cloth' d in tissue, 
 Some heaven-born goddess said to he their mother; 
 Rose-cheek' d Adonis zvith his am.ber tresses, 
 Faire fire-hot Venus charming him to love her; 
 Chaste Lucretia, virgin-like her dresses, 
 Proud lust-stung Tarquin seeking still to prove her," etc. 
 
 Perhaps the most interesting of the early allusions to 
 " Venus and Adonis" are to be found in the Cambridge 
 play, " The Return from Parnassus" (the second of three 
 " Parnassus " plays), acted at St. John's College in 1599, 
 where Gullio's preference for " Mr. Shakespeare's vein " * 
 finds exuberant expression : — " O sweet Mr. Shakespeare ! 
 I '11 have his picture in my study at the court." . 
 " Let this duncified world esteem of Spenser and Chau- 
 cer, I '11 worship sweet Mr. Shakespeare, and to honour 
 him, will lay his Venus and Adonis under my pillow, as 
 we read of one (I do not well remember his name, but I 
 am sure he was a king), slept with Homer under his bed's 
 head." The amorous Gullio was, however, not a typical 
 representative of the University ; a year or two later, in 
 the third part of the Parnassus Plays, a more judicial 
 utterance is delivered by '' Judicio " : — 
 
 " Who loves not Adon's love or Lucre ce rape? 
 His sweeter verse contains heart-throbbing life. 
 Could hut a graver subject him content, 
 Without love's foolish lazy languishment." 
 
 The writer of the lines was not ignorant of " graver 
 subjects " which had already contented the author of 
 " Adon's love " ; but these belonged to the department of 
 drama, and were not to be classed with poetry. Not long 
 after, a more experienced scholar than the author of the 
 
 * Similarly, in Heywood's "Fair Maid of the Exchange " (1607), 
 the lover Bowdler "never read anything but * Venus and Adonis' " 
 and quotes passages, and proposes to imitate Venus in his wooing.
 
 Preface VENUS AND ADONIS, 6c. 
 
 plays, the much abused Gabriel Harvey, Spenser's " Hob- 
 binol," wrote on the fly-leaf of a Chaucer folio : — ** The 
 younger sort take much delight in Shakespeare's Venus 
 and Adonis; but his Lncrece, and his Tragedy of Ham- 
 let, Prince of Denmark, have it in them to please the wiser 
 sort." One thing is quite certain, to wit, that Shake- 
 speare's first published venture brought him no little con- 
 temporary fame.* 
 
 The Source of the Plot. Ovid's Metamorphoses, Bk. 
 X., was certainly the direct source of Shakespeare's Venus 
 and Adonis, though the story must have been familiar to 
 the poet in various forms : whether he read Ovid in the 
 original, or contented himself with Golding's translation 
 (1567) cannot be definitely determined; Prospero's" ab- 
 juration {Tempest iv. i) shows his indebtedness to the 
 translator, but this does not prove that his Latin was too 
 little to enable him to follow the story as printed in Field's 
 dainty edition of the Metamorphoses, or in any other edi- 
 tion, f Anyhow, his plot departs from Ovid's in many 
 details. Shakespeare may have read Constable's " Shep- 
 
 * In 1598, John Marston, the satirist, published, as '* The first 
 blooms of my poesie," an imitation of J'^enus and Adonis, under 
 the title of " The Metamorphosis of Pigmalion's Image ; " in his 
 "Scourge of Villainy" (Sat. vi.) Marston pretended that the 
 poem was" a satire on that kind of poetry; in 1599 it was ordered 
 to.be burnt. In Cranley's Amanda (1635) it is mentioned, to- 
 gether with Venus and Adonis and Hero and Leander, as part of 
 a courtezan's library. Shakespeare's allusion to "Pygmalion's 
 images," in Measure for Measure, III. ii. 48, should be noted. 
 WilHam Barksted's " Mirrha, the mother of Adonis, or Lust's 
 Prodigies," ends with an enthusiastic tribute to " Venus and 
 Adonis " and its author. 
 
 t Cp. Prof. Baynes' articles in Frasers Magazine, vol. xxi. pp. 
 83-102; 619-641. 
 
 In the Bodleian there is an edition of Ovid which may possibly 
 be Shakespeare's own copy {vide account of the book, with fac- 
 simile page, in the German Shakespeare Society's Transactions). 
 
 6
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 6c. Preface 
 
 herd's Song of J^cniis and Adonis,^' which, though first 
 pubHshed in England's Helicon (1600), had perhaps pre- 
 viously circulated in manuscripts, but the question of date 
 is of no importance: Shakespeare's debt to Constable 
 must have been very slight. 
 
 Bion's tender elegy, and the idylls of Theocritus and 
 other poets of the Greek Anthology were evidently quite 
 unknown to Shakespeare. His " Adonis " does not re- 
 turn from Hades. Folk-lorists can find in the poem only 
 the Death, not the Resurrection of Vegetation, — only one 
 part of that wide-spread nature-myth and nature-worship 
 which passed, with much of its accompanying ritual, from 
 the East to Western Europe, captivating the minds of the 
 masses, and inspiring the minds of the poets. Venus 
 mourning for Adonis, Isis for Osiris, Astarte for Tham- 
 muz are but variants of the same theme. It is not un- 
 helpful to be reminded of the genesis of Shakespeare's 
 sensuous and voluptuous theme. "^ 
 
 The Passionate Pilgrim. " The Passionate Pilgrim " 
 was first printed in 1 599, with the following title : — 
 
 " The I Passionate | PILGRIME. | By W. Shake- 
 
 * Spenser's curious reference to the Gardens of Adonis should 
 be noted {Faerie Queene, Book III. i. 34). 
 
 The Eastern origin of the myth is significantly preserved in the 
 name of the hero : "Adonis " = 'Adon," i.e. Lord ; again, anemone 
 ^=" naamaii," "the darling"; the Arabs call the anemone the 
 " wounds of the Naaman." 
 
 According to Bion, the rose sprang from the blood of Adonis, 
 the anemone from his tears. 
 
 In the Greek myth, Aphrodite has taken the place of Astarte ; 
 probably the name of the Greek Venus is itself a modification of 
 some Eastern name. 
 
 The old translators of the Bible identified " Thammuz " with 
 "Adonis," in Ezekiel viii. 14, where the English Bible translates 
 the Hebrew correctly, 'And behold there sat women weeping for 
 Tammus," the Vulgate renders, " Et ecce ibi miilieres sedebant 
 plangentes Adonidem."
 
 Preface VENUS AND ADONIS, 6c. 
 
 speare. \ AT LONDON \ Printed for W. Jaggard, and 
 are | to be sold by W. Leake, at the Grey- | hound in 
 Paules Churchyard. | 1599." ^" 
 
 In the middle of sheet Cf is a second title: — "Son- 
 nets I To sundry notes of Musicke." 
 
 In 161 2 an edition was issued augmented by the addi- 
 tion of some poems by Thomas Heywood, '' two love- 
 epistles, the first from Paris to Hellen, and Hellen's an- 
 swer back again to Paris/' and the whole were attributed 
 to Shakespeare. The issue is described as " the third edi- 
 tion " on the title-page, but no second edition has been 
 traced. 
 
 • In deference to a protest on Heywood's part,]; the pi- 
 [ratical publisher cancelled the first title-page, and substi- 
 tuted a second, omitting Shakespeare's name; the Bod- 
 leian copy (formerly the property of Malone) has the 
 two title-pages, the original one being left by some in- 
 advertence. 
 
 In 1640 a new edition, with much additional matter, al- 
 together un-Shakesperian, was issued as " Poems : writ- 
 ten by Wil. Shake-speare, Gent." 
 
 * Cp. Fac-simile edition among Dr. Furnivall's Quarto Fac- 
 similes ; also Charles Edmond's reprint of the Isham copy, dis- 
 covered in 1867; these and the " Capell " copy are the only copies 
 known. 
 
 t i.e. before the song beginning with, ' It was a lording's daugh- 
 ter' etc. 
 
 $ In the postscript to the Apology for Actors, 1612, Heywood 
 wrote : — " Here, likewise, I must necessarily insert a manifest in- 
 jury done me in that work (viz. the Troi Britannica, published 
 in 1609), by taking the two epistles of Paris to Helen, and Helen 
 to Paris, and printing them in a less volume under the name of 
 another, which may put the world in opinion I might steal them 
 from him, and he to do himself right, hath since published them 
 in his own name ; but, as I must acknowledge my lines not worthy 
 his patronage under whom he hath published them, so the author, 
 I know, was much offended with Mr. Jaggard that (altogether un- 
 known to him) presumed to make so bold with his name.
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS, <5c. Preface 
 
 The Contents of the Volume. " The Passionate Pil- 
 grim '' has aptly been described as a " rag-picker's bag of 
 stolen goods." Like many another pirate-publisher, Jag- 
 gard must needs issue a book purporting to be by the 
 author of the hour ; by some underhand means he ob- 
 tained transcripts more or less correct of " the sugar'd 
 sonnets,'' referred to by Francis Meres ; he conveyed 
 three pieces from the printed text of Love's Labour's 
 Lost * ; to these genuine Shakespearian articles he added 
 sundry songs and sonnets, some by well-known authors of 
 the day, some by obscure poetasters, some perhaps manu- 
 factured to order, so as to give a Shakespearian colouring 
 to the volume ; possibly one or two fragments of true 
 metal may have been preserved in the miscellaneous col- 
 lection. 
 
 The Identification of the Poems. I. 11. Shakespeare's 
 Sennets, 138 and 144 (with various readings). 
 
 III. Longaville's Sonnet to Maria in Love's Labour's 
 Lost. 
 
 IV. (?) Shakespeare's (on '' J^eniis and Adonis''). 
 
 V. From Love's Labour 's Lost. 
 
 VI. ( ?) Shakespeare's (on " J^enus and Adonis "). 
 
 VII. ( ?) Shakespeare's. 
 
 VIII. Probably by Richard Barnfield, in whose Poems 
 in Divers Humors, 1598. it had first appeared. 
 
 * The many variant readings in the Shakespearian portions of 
 the collection were probably due m some cases to Jaggard's edi- 
 tor, in others to incorrect transcripts. An instance of the former 
 is perhaps to be found in the last line of V., where the play reads, 
 ' That sings heaven's praise' etc. It will be remembered that 
 Holofernes chides Nathaniel for not finding the apostrophas, and 
 so missing the accent: 'let nie supervise the canzonet.'' Had 
 Jaggard properly supervised it. he would, I think, have read 
 * That singes' instead of ' To sing ' (cp. "Love's Labour's Lost." 
 Azotes). Some of the changes in the Sonnets may have been in- 
 tentional for the purpose of obscuring references to the person 
 jilluded to.
 
 Preface VENUS AND ADONIS, &c. 
 
 IX. ( ?) Shakespeare's (on " Venus and Adonis "). 
 
 X. Probably not Shakespeare's. 
 
 XL Probably by Bartholomew Griffin : it had already 
 appeared, with variations, in 1596, in his " Fidessa more 
 Chaste than Kind.'' 
 
 XII. Probably not Shakespeare's. 
 
 XIII. Perhaps by the author of X. 
 XIV.-XV. Probably not Shakespeare's.* 
 
 XVI. Not Shakespeare's. 
 
 XVII. Dumain's Poem to Kate, Love's Labour's Lost 
 (IV. iii.). 
 
 XVIII. Found in Weekes's " Madrigals'' i^gy ; also in 
 " England's Helicon," 1600, with the title '' The Unknozvn 
 Shepherd's Complaint," and subscribed " Ignoto " (prob- 
 ably printed from the 1599 volume ).t 
 
 XIX. Doubtfully Shakespeare's. The poem strongly 
 resembles one section of JVillobie's Az'isa, published 
 
 15944 
 
 XX. By Christopher ]\Iarlowe. " The Lover's An- 
 swer," probably by Sir Walter Raleigh. In England's 
 Helicon the poem is given in full.§ 
 
 XXL By Richard Banifield, from " Poems in divers 
 humours" 1598 (11. 1-28 found also in ''England's Heli- 
 con," signed " Ignoto "). 
 
 * Wrongly printed as two poems, though evidently not intended 
 as such in the First Edition. 
 
 t Cp. Bullen's edition of "England's Helicon" p. xxi., where he 
 gives his opinion in favour of Barnfield's authorship. 
 
 tCp. Preface to Sonnets, on the subject of this curiously inter- 
 esting book. 
 
 § Isaac Walton's well-known reference did much to maintain the 
 fame of the lyric : — " As I left this place, and entered into the 
 next field, a second pleasure entertained me: 'twas a handsome 
 milkmaid: she cast away all care and sang like a nightingale. 
 Her voice was good and the ditty fitted for it : it was the smooth 
 song which was made by Kit Marlowe, now at least fifty years 
 ago. And the milkmaid's mother sang an answer to it. which 
 was made by Sir Walter Raleigh in his young days." 
 
 10
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 6c. Preface 
 
 *' The Passionate Pilgrim " belonged in reality to the 
 poetical miscellanies so popular at the time; it deserved 
 utter failure for the undue liberty it had taken with Shake- 
 speare's great name, and it perhaps deserved the almost 
 too severe though eloquent censure which a modern poet, 
 T^ir. Swinburne, has passed upon it. When the genuine 
 Shakespearian pieces have been taken into account, " the 
 rest of the ragman's gatherings, with three most notable 
 exceptions, is little better for the moat part than dry rub- 
 bish or disgusting refuse. ... I need not say that 
 those three exceptions are the stolen and sfarbled work of 
 Marlowe and of Barufield, our elder Shelley and our 
 first-born Keats ; the singer of Cynthia in verse well 
 worthy of Endymion, who would seem to have died as a 
 j)oet in the same fatal year of his age that Keats died as- 
 a man ; the first adequate English laureate of the night- 
 ingale, to be supplanted or equalled by none until the ad- 
 vent of his mightier brother." 
 
 "... <©ur ^oet, !)im 
 Whoit in0i0bt makes an otbcrsf bim ; 
 K tbousanb poets" pricb at \ik, 
 ?Cnti onlp one amib tbe strife, 
 Bo^c to be i^baftespeare/^ 
 
 II
 
 VENUS AND ADONiS, 
 
 Vilia miretur valgus ; mihi flavus Apollo 
 Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.
 
 To the 
 
 Right Honorable HENRIE VFRIOTHESLET, 
 
 Earle of Southampton, and Baron of Titchfield. 
 
 Right Honourable, 
 
 T KNO W not how I shall offend in dedicating my 
 vnpolisht lines to your Lordship, nor how the 
 worlde will censure me for choosing so strong a 
 proppe to support so zueake a burthen, onely if your 
 Honour seeme but pleased, I account my selfe higJjJy 
 praised, and vowe to take aduantage of all idle houres, 
 till I haue honoured you with some grauer labour. 
 But if the first heire of my inuention proue deformed, 
 I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father : and 
 neuer after eare so barren a land, for fear it yeeld 
 me still so bad a haruest, I leaue it to your Honour- 
 able suruey, and your Honor to your hearts content 
 which I wish may alwaies ajiswere your owne wish, 
 and the worlds hopefull expectation. 
 
 Tour Honors in all dutie, 
 
 William Shakespeare.
 
 Venus and Adonis, 
 
 Even as the sun with purple colour'd face 
 Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn, 
 Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase; 
 Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn: 
 Sick-thoughted \ enus makes amain unto him, 
 And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him. 
 
 ' Thrice fairer than myself,' thus she began, 
 ' The field's chief flower, sweet above compare, 
 Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man. 
 More white and red than doves or roses are ; lO 
 
 Nature that made thee, with herself at strife, 
 Saith that the world hath ending with thy life. 
 
 ' \^ouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed, 
 And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow ; 
 If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed 
 A thousand honey secrets 'shalt thou know: 
 
 Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses. 
 And being set, I '11 smother thee wath kisses; 
 
 ' And yet not cloy thy lips wnth loathed satiety, 
 
 But rather famish them amid their plenty, 20 
 
 flaking them red and pale with fresh variety ; 
 
 Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty: 
 
 A summer's day w^ill seem an hour but short. 
 Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
 
 Verses 5-9 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 With this she seizeth on his sweating palm, 
 The precedent of pith and livehhood, 
 And, trembHng in her passion, calls it balm, 
 Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good: 
 Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force 
 Courageously to pluck him from his horse. 30 
 
 Over one arm the lusty courser's rein. 
 
 Under her other was the tender boy, 
 
 Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain, 
 
 With leaden appetite, unapt to toy ; 
 
 She red and hot as coals of glowing fire, 
 He red for shame, but frosty in desire. 
 
 The studded bridle on a ragged bough 
 
 Nimbly she fastens — O, how quick is love !— 
 
 The steed is stalled up, and even now 
 
 To tie the rider she begins to prove : 40 
 
 Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust, 
 And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust. 
 
 So soon w^as she along as he was down. 
 Each leaning on their elbows and their hips: 
 Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown. 
 And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips ; 
 
 And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken, 
 * If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.' 
 
 He burns with bashful shame ; she with her tears 
 Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks; 50 
 
 Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs 
 To fan and blow them dry again she seeks : 
 
 He saith she is immodest, blames her miss; 
 
 What follows more she murders with a kiss. 
 
 16
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 10—14 
 
 Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, 
 Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone, 
 Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste. 
 Till either gorge be stufif'd or prey be gone; 
 
 Even so she kiss'd his brow, his cheek, his chin, 
 And where she ends she doth anew begin. 60 
 
 Forced to content, but never to obey, • 
 
 Panting he lies and breatheth in her face; 
 
 She feedeth on the steam as on a prey, 
 
 And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace; 
 
 Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers. 
 So they were dew'd with such distilling showers. 
 
 Look, how a bird lies tangled in a net. 
 
 So fastened in her arms Adonis lies; 
 
 Pure shame and awed resistance made him fret, 
 
 Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes: 70 
 
 Rain added to a river that is rank 
 Perforce wall force it overflow the bank. 
 
 Still she entreats, and prettily entreats, 
 
 For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale ; 
 
 Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets, 
 
 'Twixt crimson shame, and anger ashy-pale; 
 
 Being red, she loves him best ; and being white, 
 Her best is better'd with a more delight. 
 
 Look how he can, she cannot choose but love; 
 
 And by her fair immortal hand she swears, 80 
 
 From his soft bosom never to remove, 
 
 Till he take truce with her contending tears. 
 
 Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all wet; 
 
 And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt. 
 
 17
 
 Verses 15—19 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 Upon this promise did he raise his chin, 
 
 Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave, 
 
 Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in ; 
 
 So offers he to give what she did crave; 
 
 But when her lips were ready for his pay. 
 
 He winks, and turns his lips another way. 90 
 
 Never did passenger in summer's heat 
 More thirst for drink than she for this good turn. 
 Her help she sees, but help she cannot get; 
 She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn: 
 
 ' O, pity,' 'gan she cry, ' flint-hearted boy ! 
 
 'Tis but a kiss I beg ; why art thou coy ? 
 
 ' I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, 
 Even by the stern and direful god of war. 
 Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow, , 
 
 Who conquers where he comes in every jar; 100 
 
 Yet hath he been my captive and my slave, 
 And begg'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have. 
 
 * Over my altars hath he hung his lance, 
 His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest, 
 
 And for my sake hath learn'd to sport and dance, 
 
 To toy, to wanton, dally, smile and jest; 
 
 Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red, 
 Making my arms his field, his tent my bed. 
 
 * Thus he that overruled I overswayed, 
 
 Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain: no 
 
 Strong-temper'd steel his stronger strength obeyed, 
 Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. 
 
 O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might. 
 For mastering her that foil'd the god of fight! 
 
 18
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 20—24 
 
 ' Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine — 
 Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red — 
 The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine: 
 What see'st thou in the ground? hold up thy head: 
 
 Look in mine eyeballs, there thy beauty lies; 
 
 Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes? 120 
 
 ' Art thou ashamed to kiss? then wink again, 
 
 And I will wink ; so shall the day seem night ; 
 
 Love keeps his revels where there are but twain; 
 
 Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight: 
 These blue-vein'd violets whereon wq lean 
 Never can blab, nor know not what we mean. 
 
 ' The tender spring upon thy tempting lip 
 
 Shews thee unripe ; yet mayst thou well be tasted : 
 
 Make use of time, let not advantage slip ; 
 
 Beauty within itself should not be wasted : 130 
 
 Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime 
 Rot and consume themselves in little time. 
 
 ' Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, 
 Ill-nurtured, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, 
 O'erworn, despised, rheumatic and cold. 
 Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice, 
 
 Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee ; 
 
 But having no defects, why dost abhor me? 
 
 ' Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow; 
 
 Mine eyes are grey and bright and quick in turning; 140 
 
 My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow. 
 
 My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning; 
 
 My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt, 
 Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt. 
 
 13
 
 Verses 25-29 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 ' Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, 
 Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green. 
 Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair, 
 Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen: 
 
 Love is a spirit all compact of fire. 
 
 Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. 150 
 
 ' Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie ; 
 
 These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me; 
 
 Two strengthless doves wall draw me through the sky, 
 
 From morn till night, even where I list to sport me: 
 Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be 
 That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee? 
 
 ' Is thine own heart to thine own face affected? 
 
 Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left? 
 
 Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected, 
 
 Steal thine own freedom, and complain on theft. 160 
 
 Narcissus so himself himself forsook. 
 And died to kiss his shadow in the brook. 
 
 ' Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, 
 Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, 
 Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear; 
 Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse : 
 
 Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breedeth beauty ; 
 
 Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty. 
 
 ' Upon the earth's increase why shouldst thou feed. 
 Unless the earth with thy increase be fed? 170 
 
 By law of nature thou art bound to breed, 
 That thine may live when thou thyself art dead ; 
 
 And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive, 
 
 In that thy likeness still is left alive.' 
 
 20
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 30—34 
 
 By this, the love-sick queen began to sweat, 
 For, where they lay, the shadow had forsook them, 
 And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat, 
 With burning eye did hotly overlook them, 
 Wishing Adonis had his team to guide, 
 So he were like him and by Venus' side. i8o 
 
 And now Adonis, with a lazy spright. 
 And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye, 
 His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight. 
 Like misty vapours when they blot the sky, 
 
 Souring his cheeks, cries, ' Fie, no more of love! 
 
 The sun doth burn my face; I must remove.' 
 
 ' Ay me,' quoth Venus, ' young, and so unkind ! 
 
 What bare excuses makest thou to be gone! 
 
 I '11 sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind 
 
 Shall cool the heat of this descending sun: 190 
 
 I '11 make a shadow for thee of my hairs ; 
 
 If they burn too, I '11 quench them with my tears. 
 
 ' The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm. 
 And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee : 
 The heat I have from thence doth little harm. 
 Thine eye darts forth the fire that burnetii me; 
 And were I not immortal, life were done 
 Between this heavenly and earthly sun. 
 
 * Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel? 
 Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth : 200 
 
 Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel 
 What 'tis to love? how want of love tormenteth? 
 O, had thy mother borne so hard a mind. 
 She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind. 
 
 21
 
 Verses 35—39 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 ' What am I, that thou shoulclst contemn me this ? 
 
 Or what great danger dwells upon my suit? 
 
 What were thy Hps the worse for one poor kiss? 
 
 Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute: 
 Give me one kiss, I '11 give it thee again, 
 And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain. 210 
 
 ' Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone, 
 
 W^ell painted idol, image dull and dead. 
 
 Statue contenting but the eye alone. 
 
 Thing like a man, but of no woman bred! 
 
 Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion, 
 For men will kiss even by their own direction.' 
 
 This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, 
 
 And swelling passion doth provoke a pause ; 
 
 Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong; 
 
 Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause: 220 
 And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak, 
 And now her sobs do her intendments break. 
 
 Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand, 
 Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; 
 Sometimes her arms infold him like a band: 
 She would, he will not in her arms be bound; 
 
 And when from thence he struggles to be gone, 
 
 She locks her lily fingers one in one. 
 
 ' Fondling,' she saith, ' since I have hemm'd thee here 
 
 Within the circuit of this ivory pale, 230 
 
 I '11 be a park, and thou shalt be my deer ; 
 
 Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: 
 Graze on my lips, and if those hihs be dry, 
 Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 40-44 
 
 ' Within this Hmit is rehef enough, 
 Sweet bottom-grass and high deHghtfiil plain, 
 Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough, 
 To shelter thee from tempest and from rain: 
 
 Then be my deer, since I am such a park; 
 
 Xo dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.' 
 
 At this Adonis smiles as in disdain, 241 
 
 That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple: 
 Love made those hollows, if himself were slain. 
 He might be buried in a tomb so simple; 
 
 Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie, 
 
 Why, there Love lived, and there he could not die. 
 
 These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits, 
 
 Open'd their mouths to swallow Venus' liking. 
 
 Being mad before, how doth she now for wits? 
 
 Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking? 250 
 Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn, 
 To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn! 
 
 Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say? 
 
 Her words are done, her woes the more increasing; 
 
 The time is spent, her object will away 
 
 And from her twining arms doth urge releasing. 
 ' Pity,' she cries, ' some favour, some remorse ! ' 
 Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse. 
 
 But, lo, from forth a copse that neighbours by, 
 
 A breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud, 260 
 
 Adonis' trampling courser doth espy. 
 
 And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud: 
 
 The strong-neck'd steed, being tied imto a tree, 
 Breaketh his rein and to her straight goes he. 
 
 23
 
 Verses 45—49 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, 
 And now his woven girths he breaks asunder; 
 The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds, 
 Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder; 
 The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth. 
 Controlling what he was controlled with. 270 
 
 His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane 
 
 Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end; 
 
 His nostrils drink the air, and forth again, 
 
 As from a furnace, vapours doth he send : 
 
 His eye, which scornfully ghsters like fire, 
 Shows his hot courage and his high desire. 
 
 Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps, 
 
 With gentle majesty and modest pride; 
 
 Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps. 
 
 As who should say ' Lo, thus my strength is tried; 280 
 And this I do to captivate the eye 
 Of the fair breeder that is standing by.' 
 
 What recketh he his rider's angry stir. 
 
 His flattering ' Holla ' or his * Stand, I say '? 
 
 What cares he now for curb or pricking spur? 
 
 For rich caparisons or trappings gay? 
 
 He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, 
 For nothing else with his proud sight agrees. 
 
 Look, when a painter would surpass the life. 
 In limning out a well proportion 'd steed, 290 
 
 His art with nature's workmanship at strife. 
 As if the dead the living should exceed ; 
 So did this horse excel a common one 
 In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone, 
 
 24
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 50—54 
 
 Jlound-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, 
 Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide, 
 High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, 
 Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: 
 
 Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, 
 Save a proud rider on so proud a back. 300 
 
 Sometime he scuds far off, and there he stares; 
 
 Anon he starts at stirring of a feather; 
 
 To bid the wind a base he now prepares. 
 
 And whether he run or fly they know not whether; 
 
 For through his mane and tail the high wind sings. 
 Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings. 
 
 He looks upon his love and neighs unto her; 
 She answers him, as if she knew his mind: 
 Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her, 
 She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind, 310 
 Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels, 
 Beating his kind embracements with her heels. 
 
 Then, like a melancholy malcontent. 
 He vails his tail, that, hke a falling plume. 
 Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent: 
 He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume. 
 His love, perceiving how he was enraged. 
 Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged. 
 
 His testy master goeth about to take him; 
 
 When, lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear, 320 
 
 Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him. 
 
 With her the horse, and left Adonis there: 
 
 As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them, 
 Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them, 
 
 25
 
 Verses 55-59 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 All swoln with chafing down Adonis sits, 
 Banning his boisterous and unruly beast: 
 And now the happy season once more fits, 
 That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest : 
 For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong 
 When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue. 330 
 
 An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd, 
 
 Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage : 
 
 So of concealed sorrow may be said ; 
 
 Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage; 
 But when the heart's attorney once is mute, 
 The client breaks, as desperate in his suit. 
 
 He sees her coming, and begins to glow. 
 Even as a dying coal revives with wind, 
 And with his bonnet hides his angry brow, 
 Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind, 340 
 
 .Taking no notice that she is so nigh, 
 ■ For all askance he holds her in his eye. 
 
 O, what a sight it was, wistly to view 
 How she came stealing to the wayward boy! 
 To note the fighting conflict of her hue, 
 How white and red each other did destroy! 
 But now her cheek was pale, and by and by 
 It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky. 
 
 Now was she just before him as he sat. 
 
 And like a lowly lover down she kneels ; 350 
 
 With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat. 
 
 Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels: 
 
 His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand's print, 
 As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint. 
 
 2^
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 60—64 
 
 O, what a war of looks was then between them ! 
 
 Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing ; 
 
 His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them; 
 
 Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd the wooing: 
 And all this dumb play had his acts made plain 
 With tears, which chorus-like her eyes did rain. 
 
 Full gently now she takes him by the hand, 361 
 
 A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow, 
 
 Or ivory in an alabaster band; 
 
 So white a friend engirts so white a foe: 
 
 This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling, 
 Show'd like two silver doves that sit a-billing. 
 
 Once more the engine of her thoughts began: 
 
 ' O fairest mover on this mortal round, 
 
 Would thou wert as I am, and I a man. 
 
 My heart all whole ^s thine, thy heart my wound; 370 
 For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee. 
 Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee.' 
 
 ' Give me my hand,' saith he ; * why dost thou feel it.^ ' 
 ' Give me my heart,' saith she, ' and thou shalt have it ; 
 O, give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it, 
 And being steel'd, soft sighs can never grave it: 
 Then love's deep groans I never shall regard, 
 Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.' 
 
 ' For shame,' he cries, ' let go, and let me go ; 
 
 My day's delight is past, my horse is gone, 380 
 
 And 'tis your fault I am bereft him so : 
 
 I pray you hence, and leave me here alone; 
 
 For all my mind, my thought, my busy care, 
 Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.' 
 
 27
 
 Verses 65—60 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 Thus she rephes : ' Thy palfrey, as he should, 
 Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire: 
 Affection is a coal that must be cool'd; 
 Else, sufifer'd, it will set the heart on fire: 
 
 The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none; 
 
 Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone. 390 
 
 * How Hke a jade he stood, tied to the tree, 
 
 Servilely mastered with a leathern rein! 
 
 But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee, 
 
 He held such petty bondage in disdain; 
 
 Throwing the base thong from his bending crest, 
 Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast. 
 
 ' Who sees his true-love in her naked bed, 
 Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white. 
 But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed, 
 His other agents aim at like delight? 400 
 
 Who is so faint, that dares not be so bold 
 To touch the fire, the weather being cold? 
 
 ' Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy; 
 
 And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee. 
 
 To take advantage on presented joy; 
 
 Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee: 
 O, learn to love ; the lesson is but plain, 
 And once made perfect, never lost again.' 
 
 ' I know not love,' quoth he, ' nor will not know it. 
 Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it; 410 
 
 'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it; 
 My love to love is love but to disgrace it ; 
 For I have heard it is a Hfe in death. 
 That laughs, and weeps, and all but with a breath. 
 
 28
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 70—74 
 
 ' Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd? 
 
 \A ho plucks the bud before one leaf put forth? 
 
 If springing things be any jot diminish'd, 
 
 They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth: 
 The colt that 's back'd and burthen'd being young 
 Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong. 420 
 
 ' You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part, 
 And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat: 
 Remove your siege from my unyielding heart ; 
 To love's alarms it will not ope the gate : 
 
 Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery; 
 
 For where a heart is hard they make no battery.' 
 
 ' What ! canst thou talk ? ' quoth she, ' hast thou a tongue ? 
 
 O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing! 
 
 Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong; 
 
 I had my load before, now press'd with bearing: 430 
 Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh-sounding, 
 Ear's deep-sweet music, and heart's deep-sore 
 wounding. 
 
 ' Had I no eyes but ears, my eyes would love 
 
 That inward beauty and invisible; 
 
 Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move 
 
 Each part in me that were but sensible: 
 
 Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see, 
 Yet should I be in love by touching thee. 
 
 ' Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me. 
 
 And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, 440 
 
 And nothing but the v^ry smell were left me. 
 
 Yet would my love to thee be still as much; 
 
 For from the stillitory of thy face excelling 
 Comes breath perfumed, that breedethlove by smelling. 
 29
 
 Verses 75-79 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 ' But, O, what banquet wcrt thou to the taste, 
 
 Being nurse and feeder of the other four! 
 
 Would they not wish the feast might ever last. 
 
 And bid Suspicion double-lock the door. 
 
 Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest, 
 
 Should by his stealing in disturb the feast ? ' 450 
 
 Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd, 
 Which to his speech did honey passage yield; 
 Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd 
 Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field. 
 Sorrow to shepherds, woe tmto the birds, 
 Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds. 
 
 This ill presage advisedly she marketh: 
 Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth. 
 Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh. 
 Or as the berry, breaks before it staineth, 460 
 
 Or like the deadly bullet of a gun, 
 His meaning struck her ere his words begun. 
 
 And at his look she flatly falleth down, 
 For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth: 
 A smile recures the wounding of a frown; 
 But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth! 
 The silly boy, believing she is dead. 
 Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red; 
 
 And all amazed brake off his late intent, 
 
 For sharply he did think to reprehend her, 470 
 
 Which cunning love did wittily prevent: 
 
 Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her! 
 For on the grass she lies as she were slain, 
 Till his breath breatheth life in her again. 
 
 30
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 80-84 
 
 He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, 
 He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard, 
 He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks 
 To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd: 
 He kisses her; and she, by her good will, 
 Will never rise, so he will kiss her still. 480 
 
 The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day: 
 Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, 
 Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array 
 He cheers the morn, and all the earth relieveth : 
 
 And as the bright sun glorifies the sky, 
 
 So is her face illumined with her eye; 
 
 Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd, 
 As if from thence they borrowed all their shine. 
 Were never four such lamps together mix'd, 
 Had not his clouded with his brow's repine; 490 
 
 But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light, 
 Shone like the moon in water seen by night. 
 
 ' O, where am I? ' quoth she; ' in earth or heaven, 
 Or in the ocean drench'd, or in the fire? 
 What hour is this? or morn or weary even? 
 Do I delight to die, or life desire? 
 
 But now I lived, and life was death's annoy; 
 
 But now I died, and death was lively joy. 
 
 ' O, thou didst kill me: kill me once again: 
 Thy eyes' shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine, 500 
 Hath taught them scornful tricks, and such disdain, 
 That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine ; 
 
 And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen. 
 But for thy piteous lips no more had seen. 
 
 31
 
 Verses 85-89 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 * Long may they kiss each other, for this cure! 
 O, never let their crimson hveries wear! 
 And as they last, their verdure still endure, 
 To drive infection from the dangerous year! 
 
 That the star-gazers, having writ on death, 
 
 May say, the plague is banish'd by thy breath. 510 
 
 * Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, 
 What bargains may I make, still to be sealing? 
 To sell myself I can be well contented, 
 
 S6 thou wilt buy, and pay, and use good dealing; 
 Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips 
 Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips. 
 
 ' A thousand kisses buys my heart from me; 
 And pay them at thy leisure, one by one. 
 What is ten hundred touches unto thee? 
 Are they not quickly told and quickly gone ? 520 
 
 Say, for non-payment that the debt should double, 
 Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble? ' 
 
 ' Fair queen,' quoth he, ' if any love you owe me, 
 Measure my strangeness with my unripe years: 
 Before I know myself, seek not to know me; 
 No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears: 
 
 The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks fast, 
 Or being early pluck'd is sour to taste. 
 
 * Look, the world's. comforter, with weary gait. 
 
 His day's hot task hath ended in the west; 530 
 
 The owl, night's herald, shrieks, 'tis very late; 
 The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest; 
 
 And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven's light 
 Do summon us to part, and bid good night. 
 
 32
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 90—94 
 
 ' Now let me say ' Good night,' and so say you; 
 If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.' 
 * Good night,' quoth she; and, ere he says ' Adieu.' 
 The honey fee of parting tender'd is: 
 
 Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace; 
 
 Incorporate then they seem ; face grows to face. 540 
 
 Till breathless he disjoin'd, and backward drew 
 The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth, 
 Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew, 
 Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drouth ; 
 
 He with her plenty press'd, she faint with dearth, 
 Their lips together glued, fall to the earth. 
 
 Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey, 
 
 And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth; 
 
 Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey, 
 
 Paying what ransom the insulter willeth; 550 
 
 Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high, 
 That she will draw his lips' rich treasure dry. 
 
 And having felt the sweetness of the spoil, 
 
 With blindfold fury she begins to forage; 
 
 Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil, 
 
 And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage, 
 Planting oblivion, beating reason back. 
 Forgetting shame's pure blush and honour's wrack. 
 
 Hot, faint and weary, with her hard embracing. 
 Like a wild bird being tamed with too much handling. 
 Or as the fleet-foot roe that's tired with chasing, 561 
 Or like the froward infant still'd with dandling. 
 He now obeys, and now no more resisteth. 
 While she takes all she can, not all she listeth. 
 
 33
 
 Verses 95—99 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 What wax so frozen but dissolves with tempering, 
 And yields at last to every light impression ? 
 Things out of hope are compass'd'oft with venturing, 
 Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission: 
 Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward, 
 But then woos best when most his choice is froward. 
 
 When he did frown, O, had she then gave over, 571 
 
 Such nectar from his lips she had not suck'd. 
 
 Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover; 
 
 What though the rose have prickles, yet 'tis pluck'd.: 
 Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast. 
 Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last. 
 
 For pity now she can no more detain him; 
 
 The poor fool prays her that he may depart: 
 
 She is resolved no longer to restrain him; 
 
 Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart, 580 
 
 The which, by Cupid's bow she doth protest, 
 He carries thence incaged in his breast. 
 
 ' Sweet boy,' she says, ' this night I '11 waste in sorrow. 
 For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch. 
 Tell me, love's master, shall we meet to-morrow? 
 Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match? 
 . He tells her, no; to-morrow he intends 
 To hunt the boar with certain of his friends. 
 
 ' The boar! ' quoth she: whereat a sudden pale, 
 
 Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose, 500 
 
 Usurps her cheek; she trembles at his tale, 
 
 And on his neck her yoking arms she throws: 
 
 She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck, 
 He on her belly falls, she on her back. 
 
 34
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 100-104 
 
 Now is she in the very Hsts of love, 
 
 Her champion mounted for the hot encounter: 
 
 All is imaginary she doth prove, 
 
 He will not manage her, although he mount her; 
 That worse than Tantalus' is her annoy, 
 To clip Elysium, and to lack her joy. 600 
 
 Even so poor birds, deceived with painted grapes. 
 
 Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw. 
 
 Even so she languisheth in her mishaps 
 
 As those poor birds that helpless berries saw. 
 
 The warm efifects which she in him finds missing 
 She seeks to kindle with continual kissing. 
 
 But all in vain; good queen, it will not be: 
 
 She hath assay'd as much as may be proved; 
 
 Her pleading hath deserved a greater fee; 
 
 She 's Love, she loves, and yet she is not loved. 610 
 
 ' Fie, fie,' he says, ' you crush me; let me go; 
 
 You have no reason to withhold me so.' 
 
 ' Thou hadst been gone,' quoth she, ' sweet boy, ere this, 
 But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar. 
 O, be advised: thou know'st not what it is 
 With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore, 
 
 Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still. 
 
 Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill. 
 
 ' On his bow-back he hath a battle set 
 
 Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes; 620 
 
 His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret; 
 
 His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes; 
 
 Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way, 
 And whom he strikes his crooked tushes slay. 
 
 35
 
 Verses 105—109 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 His brawny sides, with hairy bristles armed, 
 Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter ; 
 His short thick neck cannot be easily harmed; 
 Being ireful, on the lion he will venture: 
 
 The thorny brambles and embracing bushes, 
 As fearful of him, part; through whom he rushes. 
 
 * Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine, 631 
 To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes; 
 
 Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne. 
 Whose full perfection all the world amazes; 
 
 But having thee at vantage — wondrous dread! — 
 Would root these beauties as he roots the mead. 
 
 * O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still; 
 Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends : 
 Come not within his danger by thy will; 
 
 They that thrive well take counsel of their friends. 640 
 When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble, 
 I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble. 
 
 * Didst thou not mark my face? was it not white? 
 Saw'st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye? 
 Grew I not faint? and fell I not downright? 
 Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie. 
 
 My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest, 
 But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast. 
 
 ' For where Love reigns, disturbing Jealousy 
 
 Doth call himself Affection's sentinel; 650 
 
 Gives false alarms, suggested mutiny. 
 
 And in a peaceful hour doth cry ' Kill, kill! ' 
 
 Distempering gentle Love in his desire, 
 
 As air and water do abate the fire. 
 
 36
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 110—114 
 
 ' This sour informer, this bate-breeding spy, 
 
 This canker that eats up Love's tender spring, 
 
 This carry-tale, dissentious Jealousy, 
 
 That sometime true news, sometime false doth bring, 
 Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine ear. 
 That if I love thee, I thy death should fear: 660 
 
 * And more than so, presenteth to mine eye 
 The picture of an angry-chafing boar, 
 Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie 
 An image like thyself, all stain'd with gore; 
 
 Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed 
 Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head. 
 
 ' What should I do, seeing thee so indeed, 
 
 That tremble at the imagination? 
 
 The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed, 
 
 And fear doth teach it divination: 670 
 
 I prophesy thy death, my Hving sorrow. 
 If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow. 
 
 ' But if thou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by me; 
 
 Uncouple at the timorous flying hare. 
 
 Or at the fox which lives by subtlety, 
 
 Or at the roe which no encounter dare: 
 
 Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs, 
 And on thy well-breath 'd horse keep with thy hounds. 
 
 ' And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare, 
 Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles, 680 
 
 How he outruns the wind, and with what care 
 He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles: 
 
 The many musits through the which he goes 
 
 Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes. 
 
 2,7
 
 Verses 115-119 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 ' Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep, 
 To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell, 
 And sometime where earth-delving conies keep, 
 To stop the loud pursuers in their yell; 
 
 And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer: 
 Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear: 690 
 
 ' For there his smell with others being mingled. 
 The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt, 
 Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled 
 With much ado the cold fault cleanly out; 
 
 Then do they spend their mouths : Echo replies, 
 
 As if another chase were in the skies. 
 
 ' By this, poor Wat, far of¥ upon a hill. 
 
 Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear, 
 
 To hearken if his foes pursue him still: 
 
 Anon their loud alarums he doth hear; 700 
 
 And now his grief may be compared well 
 To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell. 
 
 ' Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch 
 Turn, and return, indenting with the way; 
 Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch. 
 Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay : 
 
 For misery is trodden on by many, 
 
 And being low never relieved by any. 
 
 * Lie quietly, and hear a little more; 
 
 Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise : 710 
 
 To make thee hate the hunting of the boar, 
 
 Unlike myself thou hear'st me moralize. 
 
 Applying this to that, and so to so: 
 
 For love can comment upon every woe. 
 
 38
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 120—124 
 
 ' Where did I leave? ' ' No matter where; quoth he; 
 
 ' Leave me, and then the story aptly ends: 
 
 The night is spent.' ' Why, what of that? ' quoth she. 
 
 ' 1 am,' quoth he, ' expected of my friends ; 
 
 And now 'tis dark, and going I shall fall.' 
 
 * In night,' quoth she, ' desire sees best of all. 720 
 
 ' But if thou fall, O, then imagine this, 
 
 The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips. 
 
 And all is but to rob thee of a kiss. 
 
 Rich preys make true men thieves ; so do thy lips 
 Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn, 
 Lest she should steal a kiss, and die forsworn. 
 
 * Now of this dark night I perceive the reason : 
 Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine. 
 Till forging Nature be condemn'd of treason, 
 For stealing moulds from heaven that were divine ; 730 
 W^herein she framed thee, in high heaven's despite, 
 To shame the sun by day and her by night. 
 
 ' And therefore hath she bribed the Destinies 
 To cross the curious workmanship of nature. 
 To mingle beauty with infirmities 
 And pure perfection with impure defeature; 
 
 Making it subject to the tyranny 
 
 Of mad mischances and much misery ; 
 
 ' As burning fevers, agues pale and faint, 
 
 Life-poisoning pestilence and frenzies wood, 740 
 
 The marrow-eating sickness, w^hose attaint 
 
 Disorder breeds by heating of the blood: 
 
 Surfeits, imposthumes, grief and damn'd despair. 
 Swear Nature's death for framing thee so fair. 
 
 39
 
 Verses 125—129 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 ' And not the least of all these maladies 
 But in one minute's fight brings beauty under: 
 Both favour, savour, hue and qualities, 
 Whereat the impartial gazer late did wonder, 
 
 Are on the sudden wasted, thaw'd and done, 
 
 As mountain snow melts with the midday sun. 750 
 
 * Therefore, despite of fruitless chastity. 
 Love-lacking vestals and self-loving nuns, 
 That on the earth would breed a scarcity 
 
 And barren dearth of daughters and of sons, \ 
 Be prodigal : the lamp that burns by night 
 Dries up his oil to lend the world his light. 
 
 ' What is thy body but a swallowing grave, 
 
 Seeming to bury that posterity 
 
 Which by the rights of time thou needs must have, 
 
 If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity? 760 
 
 If so, the world will hold thee in disdain, 
 Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain. 
 
 ' So in thyself thyself art made away; 
 
 A mischief worse than civil home-bred strife, 
 
 Or theirs whose desperate hands themselves do slay, 
 
 Or butcher-sire that reaves his son of life. 
 
 Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets. 
 But gold that 's put to use more gold begets.' 
 
 * Nay, then,' quoth Adon, ' you will fall again 
 
 Into your idle over-handled theme: y/^ 
 
 The kiss I gave you is bestow'd in vain, 
 And all in vain you strive against the stream ; 
 
 For, by this black-faced night, desire's foul nurse, 
 Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse. 
 
 40
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 130—134 
 
 ' If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues, 
 And every tongue more moving than your own, 
 Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's songs, 
 Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown; 
 
 For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear. 
 And will not let a false sound enter there; 780 
 
 ' Lest the deceiving harmony should run 
 
 Into the quiet closure of my breast; 
 
 And then my little heart were quiet undone, 
 
 In his bedchamber to be barr'd of rest. 
 
 No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan, 
 But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone. 
 
 ' What have you urged that I cannot reprove? 
 
 The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger: 
 
 I hate not love, but your device in love 
 
 That lends embracements unto every stranger. 790 
 You do it for increase: O strange excuse. 
 When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse! 
 
 * Call it not love, for Love to heaven is fled 
 Since sweating Lust on earth usurp'd his name ; 
 Under who^se simple semblance he hath fed 
 Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame; 
 
 Which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves, 
 As caterpillars do the tender leaves. 
 
 * Love comforteth like sunshine after rain. 
 
 But Lust's effect is tempest after sun; 800 
 
 Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain. 
 Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done; 
 
 Love surfeits not. Lust like a glutton dies; 
 
 Love is all truth, Lust full of forged Hes, 
 
 41
 
 Verses 135—139 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 ' More I could tell, but more I dare not say; 
 
 The text is old, the orator too green. 
 
 Therefore, in sadness, now I will away; 
 
 My face is full of shame, my heart of teen: 
 
 Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended. 
 
 Do burn themselves for having so offended.' 8io 
 
 With this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace 
 Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast. 
 And homeward through the dark lawnd runs apace; 
 Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd. 
 
 Look, how a bright star shooteth from the sky, 
 So glides he in the night from Venus' eye: 
 
 Which after him she darts, as one on shore 
 Gazing upon a late-embarked friend, 
 Till the wild waves will have him seen no more, 
 Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend: 820 
 
 So did the merciless and pitchy night 
 Fold in the object that did feed her sight. 
 
 Whereat amazed, as one that unaware 
 Hath dropp'd a precious jewel in the flood. 
 Or 'stonished as night-wanderers often are, 
 Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood; 
 Even so confounded in the dark she lay. 
 Having lost the fair discovery of her way. 
 
 And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans, 
 
 That all the neighbour caves, as seeming troubled, 830 
 
 Make verbal repetition of her moans; 
 
 Passion on passion deeply is redoubled: 
 
 ' Ay me! ' she cries, and twenty times, ' Woe, woe! " 
 And twenty echoes twenty times cry so. 
 
 42
 
 V£NUS AND ADONIS Verses 140—144 
 
 She, marking them, begins a waihng note. 
 
 And sings extemporally a woeful ditty; 
 
 How love makes young men thrall, and old men dote; 
 
 How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty : 
 
 Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, 
 
 And still the choir of echoes answer so. 840 
 
 Her song was tedious, and outwore the night, 
 For lovers' hours are long, though seeming short : 
 If pleased themselves, others, they think, delight 
 In such-like circumstance, with such-like sport: 
 Their copious stories, oftentimes begun. 
 End without audience, and are never done. 
 
 For who hath she to spend the night withal, 
 
 But idle sounds resembling parasites; 
 
 Like shrill-tongued tapsters answering every call, 
 
 Soothing the humour of fantastic wits? 850 
 
 She says ' 'Tis so ': they answer all ' 'Tis so '; 
 
 And would say after her, if she said ' No.' 
 
 Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest, 
 From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, 
 And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast 
 The sun ariseth in his majesty ; 
 
 Who doth the world so gloriously behold, 
 That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold. 
 
 Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow: 
 ' O thou clear god, and patron of all light, 860 
 
 From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow 
 The beauteous influence that makes him bright. 
 
 There lives a son, that suck'd an earthly mother, 
 May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other.* 
 
 43
 
 Verses 145-149 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove, 
 Musing the morning is so much o'erworn, 
 And yet she hears no tidings of her love: 
 She hearkens for his hounds and for his horn: 
 
 Anon she hears them chant it lustily. 
 
 And all in haste she coasteth to the cry. 870 
 
 And as she runs, the bushes in the way 
 Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face, 
 Some twine about her thigh to make her stay: 
 She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace. 
 
 Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ache, 
 Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake. 
 
 By this she hears the hounds are at a bay; 
 
 Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder 
 
 Wreathed up in fatal folds just in his way, 
 
 The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder ; 880 
 Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds 
 Appals her senses and her spirit confounds. 
 
 For now she knows it is no gentle chase. 
 
 But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud. 
 
 Because the cry remaineth in one place. 
 
 Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud: 
 Finding their enemy to be so curst, 
 They all strain courtesy who shall cope him first. 
 
 This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear, 
 Through which it enters to surprise her heart; 890 
 
 Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear. 
 With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part: 
 Like soldiers, when their captain once doth yield. 
 They basely fly, and dare not stay the field. 
 
 44
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 150—154 
 
 Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy; 
 
 Till, cheering up her senses all dismay'd, 
 
 She tells them 'tis a causeless fantasy, 
 
 And childish error, that they are afraid; 
 
 Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no more: 
 And with that word she spied the hunted boar: 900 
 
 Whose frothy mouth, bepainted all with red, 
 Like milk and blood being mingled both together, 
 A second fear through all her sinews spread, 
 Which madly hurries her she knows not whither: 
 This way she runs, and now she will no further, 
 But back retires to rate the boar for murther. 
 
 A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways; 
 
 She treads the path that she untreads again; 
 
 Her more than haste is mated with delays. 
 
 Like the proceedings of a drunken brain, 910 
 
 Full of respects, yet not at all respecting: 
 In hand with all things, nought at all effecting. 
 
 Here kennell'd in a brake she finds a hound. 
 
 And asks the weary caitiff for his master; 
 
 And there another licking of his wound, 
 
 'Gainst venom'd sores the only sovereign plaster; 
 And here she meets another sadly scowling. 
 To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling. 
 
 When he hath ceased his ill-resounding noise. 
 
 Another fiap-mouth'd mourner, black and grim, 920 
 
 Against the welkin volleys out his voice; 
 
 Another and another answer him, 
 
 Clapping their proud tails to the ground below, 
 Shaking their scratch'd ears, bleeding as they go. 
 
 45
 
 Verses 155-159 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 Look, how the world's poor people are amazed 
 
 At apparitions, signs and prodigies, 
 
 Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gazed, 
 
 Infusing, them with dreadful prophecies ; 
 
 So she at these sad signs draws up her breath. 
 And, sighing it again, exclaims on Death. 930 
 
 * Hard-favour'd tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean. 
 Hateful divorce of love,' — thus chides she Death, — 
 
 * Grim-grinning ghost, earth's worm, what dost thou mean 
 To stifle beauty and to steal his breath, 
 
 Who when he lived, his breath and beauty set 
 Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet ? 
 
 ' If he be dead, — O no, it cannot be, 
 
 Seeing his beauty, thou shouldst strike at it; — 
 
 O yes, it may; thou hast no eyes to see, 
 
 But hatefully at random dost thou hit. 940 
 
 Thy mark is feeble age ; but thy false dart 
 Mistakes that aim, and cleaves an infant's heart. 
 
 * Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke, 
 And, hearing him, thy power had lost his power. 
 The Destinies wall curse thee for this stroke; 
 They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck'st a flower: 
 
 Love's golden arrow at him should have fled. 
 And not Death's ebon dart, to strike him dead. 
 
 ' Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such weeping ? 
 
 What may a heavy groan advantage thee? 950 
 
 Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping 
 
 Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see? 
 Now Nature cares not for thy mortal vigour, 
 Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigour.' 
 
 45 _>^
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 160-164 
 
 Here overcome, as one full of despair, 
 She vail'd her eyelids, who, like sluices, stopp'd 
 The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair 
 In the sweet channel of her bosom dropp'd ; 
 
 But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain, 
 And with his strong course opens them again. 960 
 
 C, how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow! 
 
 Her eye seen in the tears, tears in her eye ; 
 
 Both crystals, where they view'd each other's sorrow, 
 
 Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry; 
 But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain, 
 Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again. 
 
 Variable passions throng her constant woe. 
 
 As striving who should best become her grief- 
 
 All entertain'd, each passion labours so 
 
 That every present sorrow seemeth chief, 970 
 
 But none is best: then join they all together, 
 Like many clouds consulting for foul weather. 
 
 By this, far ofif she hears some huntsman holloa; 
 A nurse's song ne'er pleased her babe so well: 
 The dire imagination she did follow 
 This sound of hope doth labour to expel; 
 
 For now reviving joy bids her rejoice. 
 
 And flatters her it is Adonis' voice. 
 
 Whereat her tears began to turn their tide. 
 Being prison'd in her eye like pearls in glass: 980 
 
 Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside. 
 Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass 
 To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground. 
 Who is but drunken when she seemeth drown'd. 
 
 47
 
 Verses 165-169 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 O harcl-believing love, how strange it seems 
 
 Not to believe, and yet too credulous ! 
 
 Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes; 
 
 Despair, and hope, makes thee ridiculous: 
 
 The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely, 
 
 In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly. 990 
 
 Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought; 
 
 Adonis lives, and Death is not to blame; 
 
 It was not she that call'd him all to nought: 
 
 Now she adds honours to his hateful name; 
 
 She clepes him king of graves, and grave for kings 
 Imperious supreme of all mortal things. 
 
 ' No, no,' quoth she, ' sweet Death, I did but jest; 
 Yet pardon me, I felt a kind of fear 
 When as I met the boar, that bloody beast. 
 Which knows no pity, but is still severe; 1000 
 
 Then, gentle shadow, — truth I must confess, — 
 I rail'd on thee, fearine mv love's decease. 
 
 ( J 
 
 Tis not my fault : the boar provoked my tongue ; 
 
 Be wreak'd on him, invisible commander; 
 
 'Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong; 
 
 I did but act, he 's author of thy slander: 
 
 Grief hath two tongues; and never woman yet 
 Could rule them both without ten women's wit.' 
 
 Thus hoping that Adonis is alive, 
 
 Her rash suspect she doth extenuate; loio 
 
 And that his beauty may the better thrive. 
 
 With Death she humbly doth insinuate; 
 
 Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs, and stories, 
 His victories, his triumphs and his glories. 
 
 48
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 170—174 
 
 ' O Jove,' quoth she, ' how much a fool was I 
 
 To be of such a weak and sihy mind 
 
 To wail his death \vho lives and miust not die 
 
 Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind! 
 
 For he being- dead, with him is beauty slain, 
 
 And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again. 1020 
 
 ' Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear 
 As one with treasure laden, hemm'd with thieves; 
 Trifles unwitnessed with eye or ear 
 Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.' 
 Even at this word she hears a merry horn, 
 Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn. 
 
 As falcons to the lure, away she flies; 
 
 The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light; 
 
 And in her haste unfortunately spies 
 
 The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight; 1030 
 
 Which seen, her eyes, as murder'd with the view, 
 Like stars ashamed of day, themselves withdrew ; 
 
 Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit. 
 Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain, 
 And there all smother'd up in shade doth sit. 
 Long after fearing to creep forth again; 
 
 So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled 
 Into the deep-dark cabins of her head: 
 
 Where they resign their office and their light 
 To the disposing of her troubled brain; 1040 
 
 Who bids them still consort with ugly night. 
 And never wound the heart with looks again ; 
 Who, like a king perplexed in his throne, 
 By their suggestion gives a deadly groan, 
 
 49
 
 Verses 175—179 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 Whereat each tributary subject quakes; 
 As when the wind, imprison'd in the ground, 
 StruggUng for passage, earth's foundation shakes, 
 Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound. 
 This mutiny each part doth so surprise. 
 That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes; 
 
 And being open'd threw unwilling light 105 1 
 
 Upon the wide wound that the boar had trench'd 
 In his soft flank; whose wonted lily white 
 With purple tears, that his wound wept, was drench'd: 
 No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf or weed. 
 But stole his blood and seem'd with him to bleed. 
 
 This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth; 
 
 Over one shoulder doth she hang her head; 
 
 Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth ; 
 
 She thinks he could not die, he is not dead : 1060 
 
 Her voice is stopp'd, her joints forget to bow; 
 
 Her eyes are mad that they have wept till now. 
 
 Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly 
 
 That her sight dazzling makes the wound seem three; 
 
 And then she reprehends her mangling eye, 
 
 That makes more gashes where no breach should be : 
 
 His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled: 
 For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled. 
 
 ' My tongue cannot express my grief for one, 
 
 And yet,' quoth she, ' behold two Adons dead ! 1070 
 
 My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone. 
 
 Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead: 
 
 Heavy heart's lead, melt at mine eyes' red fire! 
 
 So shall I die by drops of hot desire. 
 
 50
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 180-184 
 
 ' Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost! 
 What face remains alive that's worth the viewing? 
 AMiose tongue is music now? what canst thou boast 
 Of things long since, or any thing ensuing? 
 
 The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim; 
 
 But true-sweet beauty Hved and died v;ith him. 1080 
 
 ' Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear! 
 
 Xor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you: 
 
 Having no fair to lose, you need not fear; 
 
 The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth hiss you: 
 But when Adonis lived, sun and sharp air 
 Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair. 
 
 ' And therefore would he put his bonnet on. 
 Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep; 
 The wind would blow it of¥, and, being gone, 
 Play with his locks: then would Adonis weep; 1090 
 
 And straight, in pity of his tender years, 
 They both vv'ould strive who first should dry his tears. 
 
 ' To see his face the lion walk'd along 
 
 Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him; 
 
 To recreate himself, when he hath sung, 
 
 The tiger would be tame and gently hear him; 
 
 If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey, 
 And never fright the silly lamb that day. 
 
 ' When he beheld his shadow in the brook, 
 
 The fishes spread on it their golden gills; iioo 
 
 When he was by, the birds such pleasure took. 
 
 That some would sing, some other in their bills 
 
 Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries; 
 
 He fed them with jiis sight, they him witli berries. 
 
 51
 
 Verses 185—189 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 ' But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar, 
 Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave. 
 Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore; 
 Witness the entertainment that he gave: 
 If he did see his face, why then I know 
 He thought to kiss him, and hath kill'd him so. mo 
 
 * 'Tis true, 'tis true; thus was Adonis slain: 
 He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear, 
 Who did not whet his teeth at him again. 
 But by a kiss thought to persuade him there; 
 And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine 
 Sheathed unaware the tusk in his soft groin. 
 
 ' Had I been tooth'd like him, I m.ust confess. 
 
 With kissing him I should have kill'd him first; 
 
 But he is dead, and never did he bless 
 
 My youth with his; the more am I accurst.' 1120 
 
 With this, she falleth in the place she stood. 
 And stains her face with his congealed blood. 
 
 She looks upon his lips, and they are pale; 
 
 She takes him by the hand, and that is cold; 
 
 She whispers in his ears a heavy tale. 
 
 As if they heard the woeful words she told; 
 She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, 
 Where, lo, two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies; 
 
 Two glasses, where herself herself beheld 
 
 A thousand times, and now no more reflect; 11 30 
 
 Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell'd, . 
 
 And every beauty robb'd of his effect : 
 
 ' Wonder of time,' quoth she, ' this is my spite, 
 That, thou being dead, the day should yet be light.
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS Verses 190—194 
 
 ' Since thou art dead, lo, here I prophesy, 
 
 Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend: 
 
 It shall be waited on with jealousy, 
 
 Find sweet beginning but unsavoury end; 
 Ne'er settled equally, but high or low, 
 That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe. 
 
 ' It shall be fickle, false and full of fraud; 1141 
 
 Bud, and be blasted, in a breathing- while; 
 
 The bottom poison, and the top o'erstraw'd 
 
 With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile: 
 The strongest body shall it make most weak, 
 Strike the wise dumb, and teach the fool to speak. 
 
 ' It shall be sparing and too full of riot, 
 Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures; 
 The staring rufBan shall it keep in quiet, 
 Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures; 
 
 It shall be raging-mad, and silly-mild, 1151 
 
 Make the young old, the old become a child. 
 
 * It shall suspect where is no cause of fear; 
 
 It shall not fear where it should most mistrust; 
 
 It shall be merciful and too severe. 
 
 And most deceiving when it seems most just; 
 
 Perverse it shall be where it shows most toward, 
 Put fear to valour, courage to the coward. 
 
 * It shall be cause of war and dire events, 
 
 And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire; 1 160 
 
 Subject and servile to all discontents, 
 
 As dry combustions matter is to fire: 
 
 Sith in his prime death doth my love destroy 
 They that love best their loves shall not enjoy.' 
 
 53
 
 Verses 195-199 VENUS AND ADONIS 
 
 By this the boy that by her side lay kill'd 
 Was melted like a vapour from her sight, 
 And in his blood, that on the ground lay spill'd, 
 A purple flower sprung up, chequer'd with white, 
 
 Resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood 1169 
 Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood. 
 
 She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell. 
 
 Comparing it to her Adonis' breath ; 
 
 And says, within her bosom it shall dwell. 
 
 Since he himself is reft from her by death: 
 
 She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears 
 Green-dropping sap, which she compares to tears. 
 
 ' Poor flower,' quoth she, ' this was thy father's guise — 
 
 Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire — 
 
 For every little grief to wet his eyes : 
 
 To grow unto himself was his desire, 1 180 
 
 And so 'tis thine; but know, it is as good 
 To wither in my breast as in his blood. 
 
 ' Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast; 
 
 Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right: 
 
 Lo, in this hollow cradle take thy rest; 
 
 My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night: 
 There shall not be one minute in an hour 
 Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower.' 
 
 Thus weary of the world, away she hies, 
 
 And yokes her silver doves ; by whose swift aid 1 190 
 
 Their mistress, mounted, through the empty skies 
 
 In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; 
 
 Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen 
 Means to immure herself and not be seen. 
 
 54
 
 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM.
 
 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM, 
 
 When my love swears that she is made of truth, 
 
 I do believe her, though I know she lies, 
 
 That she might think me some untutor'd youth, 
 
 Unskilful in the world's false forgeries. 
 
 Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, 5 
 
 Although 1 know my years be past the best, 
 
 I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue. 
 
 Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest. 
 
 But wherefore says my love that she is young? 
 
 And wherefore say not I that I am old? 10 
 
 O, love's best habit is a soothing tongue, 
 
 And age, in love, loves not to have years told. 
 
 Therefore I '11 lie with love, and love with me, 
 Since that our faults in love thus smother'd be. 
 
 II 
 
 Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, 
 
 That like two spirits do suggest me still ; 
 
 My better angel is a man right fair. 
 
 My worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. 
 
 To win me soon to hell, my female evil 5 
 
 Tempteth my better angel from my side, 
 
 And would corrupt my saint to be a devil. 
 
 Wooing his purity with her fair pride. 
 
 And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend, 
 
 Suspect I may, yet not directly tell: 10 
 
 For being both to me, both to each friend, 
 
 I guess one angel in another's hell: 
 
 The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt, 
 Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
 
 III. and IV. THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 
 
 III 
 
 Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 
 
 'Gainst whom the world could not hold argument, 
 
 Persuade my heart to this false perjury? 
 
 Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. 
 
 A woman I forswore ; but I will prove, 5 
 
 Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: 
 
 My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; 
 
 Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. 
 
 My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is ; 
 
 Then, thou fair sun, that on this earth doth shine, . lo 
 
 Exhale this vapour vow; in thee it is: 
 
 If broken, then it is no fault of mine. 
 
 If by me broke, what fool is not so wise 
 To break an oath, to win a paradise? 
 
 IV 
 
 Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook 
 
 With young Adonis, lovely, fresh and green, 
 
 Did court the lad with many a lovely look. 
 
 Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen. 
 
 She told him stories to delight his ear, 5 
 
 She show'd him favours to allure his eye; 
 
 To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there; 
 
 Touches so soft still conquer chastity. 
 
 But whether unripe years did want conceit, 
 
 Or he refused to take her figured proffer, lo 
 
 The tender nibbler would not touch the bait. 
 
 But smile and jest at every gentle ofTer: 
 
 Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward: 
 He rose and ran away; ah, fool too froward. 
 
 58
 
 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM V. and VI. 
 
 V ' , 
 
 If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? 
 O never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed: 
 Though to myself forsworn, to thee I 'U constant prove; 
 Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers 
 
 bowed, 
 Study his bias leaves, and make his book thine eyes, 5 
 Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend. 
 If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall sufhce ; 
 Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend: 
 All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; 
 Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire: 10 
 Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful 
 
 thunder. 
 Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. 
 Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, 
 To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue. 
 
 VI 
 
 Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, 
 
 And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade, 
 
 When Cytherea, all in love forlorn, 
 
 A longing tarriance for Adonis made 
 
 Under an osier growing by a brook, 5 
 
 A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen: 
 
 Hot was the day; she hotter that did look 
 
 For his approach, that often there had been. 
 
 Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by, 
 
 And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim: 10 
 
 The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye, 
 
 Yet not so wistly as this queen on him. 
 
 He, spying her, bounced in, whereas he stood: 
 ' O Jove,' quoth she, ' why was not I a flood! ' 
 
 59
 
 VII. 1=18 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 
 
 VII 
 
 Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle, 
 Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty. 
 Brighter than glass and yet, as glass is, brittle, 
 Softer than wax and yet as iron rusty: 
 
 A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her, 5 
 
 None fairer, nor none falser to deface her. 
 Her lips to mine how often hath she joined, 
 Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing! 
 How many tales to please me hath she coined, 
 Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing! 10 
 
 Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, 
 Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings. 
 
 She burn'd with love, as straw with fire flameth ; 
 She burn'd out love, as soon as straw out-burneth; 
 She framed the love, and yet she foil'd the framing ; 15 
 She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning. 
 
 Was this a lover, or a lecher whether? 
 
 Bad in the best, though excellent in neither. 
 
 60
 
 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM VIII. and IX. 
 
 VIII 
 
 If music and sweet poetry agree, 
 
 As they must needs, the sister and the brother, 
 
 Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, 
 
 Because thou lovest the one and I the other. 
 
 Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch 5 
 
 Upon the lute doth ravish human sense; 
 
 Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such 
 
 As passing all conceit needs no defence. 
 
 Thou lovest to hear the sweet melodious sound 
 
 That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes ; 10 
 
 And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd 
 
 When as himself to singing he betakes. 
 
 One god is god of both, as poets feign; 
 
 One knight loves both, and both in thee remain. 
 
 IX 
 
 Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love. 
 
 Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove, 
 
 For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild; 
 
 Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill: 5 
 
 Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds; 
 
 She, silly queen, with more than love's good will, 
 
 Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds: 
 
 ' Once,' quoth she, ' did I see a fair sweet youth 
 
 Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar, 10 
 
 Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth! 
 
 See in my thigh,' quoth she, ' here was the sore.' 
 
 She showed hers : he saw more wounds than one, 
 And blushing fled, and left her all alone. 
 
 61
 
 X. and XI. THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 
 
 X 
 
 Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded, 
 
 Pluck'd in the bud and vaded in the spring! 
 
 Bright orient pearl, alack, too timely shaded! 
 
 Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting ! 
 
 Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree, 5 
 
 And falls through wind before the fall should be. 
 
 I weep for thee and yet no cause I have; 
 
 For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will: 
 
 And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave; 
 
 For why I craved nothing of thee still: 10 
 
 O yes, dear friend, 1 pardon crave of thee, 
 Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me. 
 
 XI 
 
 Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her 
 
 Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him: 
 
 She told the youngling how god Mars did try her 
 
 And as he fell to her, so fell she to him. 
 
 ' Even thus,' quoth she, ' the warlike god embraced me,' 5 
 
 And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms; 
 
 * Even thus,' quoth she, ' the warlike god unlaced me,' 
 
 As if the boy should use like loving charms; 
 
 ' Even thus,' quoth she, ' he seized on my lips,' 
 
 And with her lips on his did act the seizure: 10 
 
 And as she fetched breath, away he skips. 
 
 And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure. 
 
 Ah, that I had my lady at this bay, 
 
 To kiss and clip me till T run away! 
 
 63
 
 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM XII. and XIII. 
 
 XII 
 
 Crabbed age and youth cannot live together: 
 Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; 
 Youth Hke summer morn, age like winter weather; 
 Youth Hke summer brave, age hke winter bare. 
 Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; 5 
 
 Youth is nimble, age is lame; 
 Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; 
 
 Youth is wild, and age is tame. 
 Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee; 
 
 O, my love, my love is young! 10 
 
 Age, I do defy thee: O, sweet shepherd, hie thee. 
 
 For methinks thou stay'st too long. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; 
 
 A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly ; 
 
 A flower that dies vvdien first it 'gins to bud ; 
 
 A brittle glass that 's broken presently: 
 
 A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, 5 
 
 Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour. 
 
 And as goods lost are seld or never found. 
 As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh. 
 As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground. 
 As broken glass no cement can redress, to 
 
 So beauty blemish'd once 's for ever lost, 
 In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost. 
 
 63
 
 XIV., XV. 1=12 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 
 
 XIV 
 
 Good night, good rest. Ah, neither be my share : 
 She bade good night that kept my rest away; 
 And dafif'd me to a cabin hang'd with care, 
 To descant on the doubts of my decay. 
 
 * Farewell,' quoth she, ' and come again to-morrow ' : 
 Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow. 6 
 
 Yet at my parting sw^eetly did she smile, 
 
 In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether: 
 
 'T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, 
 
 'T may be, again to make me wander thither: lo 
 
 * Wander,' a word for shadows like myself. 
 As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf. 
 
 XV 
 
 Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east! 
 
 My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise 
 
 Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest. 
 
 Not daring trust the office of mine eyes. 
 
 While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark, 5 
 And wish her lays were tuned like the lark; 
 
 For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty. 
 
 And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night; 
 
 The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty; 
 
 Heart hath his hope and eyes their wished sight; 10 
 
 Sorrow changed to solace and solace mix'd with sorrow ; 
 
 For why, she sigh'd, and bade me come to-morrow. 
 
 64
 
 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM XV. 13=18, XVI. 
 
 Were I with her, the night would post too soon; 
 
 But now are minutes added to the hours; 
 
 To spite me now% each minute seems a moon ; 1 5 
 
 Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers! 
 
 Pack night, peep day ; good day, of night now borrow ; 
 
 Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow. 
 
 XVI 
 
 It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three, 
 That liked of her master as well as well might be, 
 Till looking on an Englishman, the fair'st that eye could 
 see, 
 
 Her fancy fell a-turning. 
 Tongwas the combat doubtful that love with love did fight. 
 To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight: 6 
 To put in practice either, alas, it was a spite 
 
 Unto the silly damsel! 
 But one must be refused; more mickle w^as the pain 
 That nothing could be used to turn them both to gain, 10 
 For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with disdain : 
 
 Alas, she could not help it! 
 Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day, 
 Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away: 
 Then, lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay; 15 
 
 For now my song is ended.
 
 XVII. 1-18 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 
 
 XVII 
 
 On a day, alack the day! 
 
 Love, whose month was ever May, 
 
 Spied a blossom passing fair, 
 
 Playing in the wanton air: 
 
 Through the velvet leaves the wind 5 
 
 All unseen 'gan passage find; 
 
 That the lover, sick to death, 
 
 Wish'd himself the heaven's breath, 
 
 * Air,' quoth he, * thy cheeks may blow; 
 
 Air, would I might triumph so ! ic 
 
 But, alas! my hand hath sworn 
 
 Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn: 
 
 Vow, alack ! for youth unmeet : 
 
 Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet. 
 
 Thou for whom Jove would swear 15 
 
 Juno but an Ethiope were; 
 
 And deny himself for Jove, 
 
 Turning mortal for thy love/ 
 
 66
 
 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM XVIII. 1=26 
 
 [XVIII] 
 
 My flocks feed not, 
 My ewes breed not, 
 My rams speed not; 
 
 All is amiss: 
 Love's denying, 5 
 
 Faith's defying, 
 Heart's renying, 
 
 Causer of this. 
 All my merry jigs are quite forgot, 
 
 All my lady's love is lost, God wot: 10 
 
 Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love, 
 There a nay is placed without remove. 
 One silly cross 
 Wrought all my loss ; 
 
 O frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame! 15 
 
 For now I see 
 Inconstancy 
 
 More in women than in men remain. 
 
 In black mourn I, 
 
 All fears scorn I, 20 
 
 Love hath forlorn me, 
 
 Living in thrall: 
 Heart is bleeding, 
 All help needing, 
 O cruel speeding, 25 
 
 Fraughted with gall. 
 
 ^7
 
 XVIII. 27=54 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 
 
 My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal: 
 
 My wether's bell rings doleful knell; 
 
 My curtal dog, that wont to have play'd, 
 
 Plays not at all, but seems afraid; 30 
 
 My sighs so deep 
 
 Procure to weep, 
 
 In howling wise, to see my doleful plight. 
 How sighs resound 
 Through heartless ground, 35 
 
 Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight! 
 
 Clear wells spring not, 
 Sweet birds sing not. 
 Green plants bring not 
 
 Forth their dye ; 40 
 
 Herds stand weeping, 
 Flocks all sleeping, 
 Nymphs back peeping 
 
 Fearfully: 
 All our pleasure known to us poor swains, 45 
 
 All our merry meetings on the plains, 
 All our evening sport from us is fled, 
 All our love is lost, for Love is dead. 
 Farewell, sweet lass, 
 Thy like ne'er was 5^ 
 
 For a sweet content, the cause of all my moan: 
 Poor Corydon 
 Must live alone; 
 
 Other help for him I see that there is none. 
 
 68
 
 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM XIX. 1-24 
 
 XIX 
 
 When as thine eye hath chose the dame, 
 And stall'd the deer that thou shouldst strike, 
 Let reason rule things worthy blame, 
 As well as fancy, partial wight: 
 
 Take counsel of some wiser head, 
 Neither too young nor yet unwed. 
 
 And when thou comest thy tale to tell, 
 
 Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk, 
 
 Lest she some subtle practice smell, — 
 
 A cripple soon can find a halt; — lO 
 
 But plainly say thou lovest her well. 
 
 And set thy person forth to sell. 
 
 What though her frowning brows be bent. 
 
 Her cloudy looks will calm ere night: 
 
 And then too late she will repent 15 
 
 That thus dissembled her dehght; 
 
 And twice desire, ere it be day, 
 
 That which with scorn she put away. 
 
 What though she strive to try her strength, 
 
 And ban and brawl, and say thee nay, 20 
 
 Her feeble force will yield at length. 
 
 When craft hath taught her thus to say: 
 
 ' Had women been so strong as men, 
 
 In faith, you had not had it then.' 
 
 69
 
 XIX. 25-54 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 
 
 And to her will frame all thy ways ; 25 
 
 Spare not to spend, and chiefly there 
 Where thy desert may merit praise/ 
 By ringing in thy lady's ear: 
 
 The strongest castle, tower and town, 
 
 The golden bullet beats it down. 30 
 
 Serve always with assured trust, 
 
 And in thy suit be humble true ; 
 
 Unless thy lady prove unjust, 
 
 Press never thou to choose anew: 
 
 When time shall serve, be thou not slack 35 
 
 To proffer, though she put thee back. 
 
 The wiles and guiles that women work. 
 
 Dissembled with an outward show. 
 
 The tricks and toys that in them lurk, 
 
 The cock that treads them shall not know. 40 
 
 Have you not heard it said full oft, 
 A woman's nay doth stand for nought ? 
 
 Think women still to strive with men. 
 
 To sin and never for to saint: 
 
 There is no heaven, by holy then, 45 
 
 When time with age shall them attaint. 
 
 Were kisses all the joys in bed, 
 
 One woman would another wed. 
 
 But, soft! enough — too much, I fear — 
 
 Lest that my mistress hear my song: 5^ 
 
 She will not stick to round me on th' ear, 
 
 To teach my tongue to be so long: 
 
 Yet will she blush, here be it said. 
 
 To hear her secrets so bewray'd. 
 
 70
 
 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM XX. 1-20 
 
 [XX] 
 
 Live with me, and be my love, 
 And we will all the pleasures prove 
 That hills and valleys, dales and fields, 
 And all the craggy mountains yields. 
 
 There will we sit upon the rocks. 
 And see the shepherds feed their flocks, 
 By shallow rivers, by whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals. 
 
 There will I make thee a bed of roses, 
 
 With a thousand fragrant posies, lO 
 
 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
 
 Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle. 
 
 A belt of straw and ivy buds. 
 
 With coral clasps and amber studs; 
 
 And if these pleasures may thee move, 15 
 
 Then live with me and be mv love. 
 
 Love's Answer. 
 
 If that the world and love were young, 
 
 And truth in every shepherd's tongue. 
 
 These pretty pleasures might me move 
 
 To live with thee and be thv love. 20
 
 XXI. 1=30 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 
 
 XXI 
 
 As it fell upon a day 
 
 In the merry month of May, 
 
 Sitting in a pleasant shade 
 
 Which a grove of myrtles made, 
 
 Beasts did leap and birds did sing, * 5 
 
 Trees did grow and plants did spring; 
 
 Every thing did banish moan, 
 
 Save the nightingale alone: 
 
 She, poor bird, as all forlorn, 
 
 Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, 10 
 
 And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, 
 
 That to hear it was great pity : 
 
 ' Fie, fie, fie,' now would she cry; 
 
 ' Tereu, Tereu!' by and by; 
 
 That to hear her so complain, 15 
 
 Scarce I could from tears refrain; 
 
 For her grief so lively shown 
 
 Made me think upon mine own. 
 
 Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain! 
 
 None takes pity on thy pain: 20 
 
 Senseless trees they cannot hear thee; 
 
 Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee: 
 
 King Pandion he is dead; 
 
 All thy friends are lapp'd in lead; 
 
 All thy fellow birds do sing, 25 
 
 Careless of thy sorrowing. 
 
 Even so, poor bird, like thee. 
 
 None alive will pity me. 
 
 Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled, 
 
 Thou and I were both beguiled. 30 
 
 72
 
 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM XXI. 31=58 
 
 Every one that flatters thee 
 
 Is no friend in misery. 
 
 Words are easy, Hke the wind; 
 
 Faithful friends are hard to find: 
 
 Every man will be thy friend 35 
 
 Whilst thou hast vherewith to spend; 
 
 But if store of crowns be scant, 
 
 No man will supply thy want. 
 
 If that one be prodigal. 
 
 Bountiful they will him call, 40 
 
 And v/ith such-like flattering, 
 
 * Pity but he were a king ' ; 
 
 If he be addict to vice, 
 
 Quickly him they will entice; 
 
 If to women he be bent, 45 
 
 They have at commandment : 
 
 But if Fortune once do frown. 
 
 Then farewell his great renown; 
 
 They that fawn'd on him before 
 
 Use his company no more. 50 
 
 He that is thy friend indeed. 
 
 He will help thee in thy need: 
 
 If thou sorrow, he will weep; 
 
 If thou wake, he cannot sleep; 
 
 Thus of every grief in heart 55 
 
 He with thee doth bear a part. 
 
 These are certain signs to know 
 
 Faithful friend from flattering foe. 
 
 73
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. <Sc. 
 
 Glossary. 
 
 Advisedly, deliberately; 457. 
 Affected, enamoured; 157. 
 Alarms, alarums, attacks; 424. 
 Along, at full length; 43. 
 Angry-chafing, chafing with 
 
 anger; 662. 
 Askance, looking sideways ; 342. 
 Aspire, ascend, mount ; 150. 
 Attaint, infection; 741. 
 Ay me! ah me ! ; 833. 
 
 Ban, curse ; P.P. xix. 20. 
 
 Bane, death, ruin ; 2>72. 
 
 Banning, cursing ; 326. 
 
 Barred, debarred; 784. 
 
 Base ; " to bid a base," i.e. to 
 challenge to a race ; 303. 
 
 Bate-breeding, causing quarrel ; 
 655. 
 
 Battery, onset, assault ; 426. 
 
 Battle, battalion ; 619. 
 
 Bay; " at a bay," i.e. " the 
 state of the chase, when the 
 game is driven to extremity 
 and turns against the pursu- 
 ers " ; 877. 
 
 Bereaves, impairs, spoils ; 797. 
 
 Beivray'd, betrayed, disclosed; 
 P.P. xix. 54. 
 
 Blunt, savage; 884. 
 
 Bootless, profitless ; 422. 
 
 Bottom-grass, grass growing 
 in a deep valley ; 236. 
 
 Breathing-while, breathing 
 time; 1142. 
 
 Cabinet, nest; 854. 
 
 Canker, canker worm ; 656. 
 
 Censure, judge, estimate; 
 Dedic. 
 
 Charge, blame ; P.P. xv. 2. 
 
 Circumstance, elaborate de- 
 tails ; 844. 
 
 Cleanly, entirely; 694. 
 
 Clepes, calls; 995. 
 
 Clip, embrace ; 600. 
 
 Closure, enclosure ; 782. 
 
 Coasteth fo, makes toward; 870. 
 
 Cold; " c. fault," cold scent, 
 loss of scent ; 694. 
 
 Combust ious.comhustihle ; 1162. 
 
 Commission, warrant by which 
 power is exercised; 568. 
 
 Compact, composed ; 149. 
 
 Compass'd, arched, round ; 272. 
 
 Conceit, understanding ; P.P. 
 iv. 9. 
 
 Conies, rabbits ; 687. 
 
 Contemn, contemptuously re- 
 fuse ; 205. 
 
 Cope, encounter, fight with ; 
 888. 
 
 Courage, temperament ; 276. 
 
 Coy, contemptuous; 112. 
 
 Cranks, twists; 682. 
 
 Cross, thwart, hinder ; 734. 
 
 Curious, elaborate ; 734. 
 
 Curst, fierce ; 887. 
 
 Curvets, bounds ; 279. 
 
 Cy the re a, Venus ; P.P. iv. i ; 
 vi. 3. 
 
 74
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 6c. 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Daif'd, put me off; P.P. xiv. 3. 
 
 Danger, perilous power ; 639. 
 
 Deal; "no d.," no whit; P.P. 
 xviii. 27. 
 
 Defeature, disfigurement ; 72>^. 
 
 Defy, despise; P.P. xii. 11. 
 
 Descant, comment ; P.P. xiv. 4. 
 
 Device, manner, cast of mind ; 
 789. 
 
 Dezv-bedabbled, sprinkled with 
 dew; 703. 
 
 Disjoin'd, drew asunder; 541. 
 
 Dissentious, seditious; 657. 
 
 Distempering, perturbing; 653. 
 
 Dive-dapper, didapper, dab- 
 check; 86. 
 
 Doubles, turns to escape pur- 
 suit; 682. 
 
 Eare, plough ; Dedic V. and A. 
 Ebon, black; 948. 
 Esctasy, excitement ; 895. 
 Embracements, embraces; 312. 
 Envious, spiteful ; 705. 
 Excelling, exquisite ; 443. 
 Exclaims on, cries out against ; 
 
 930. 
 Eyne, eyes ; 633. 
 
 Fair, beauty ; 1083. 
 Fancy, love ; P.P. xix. 4. 
 Fault, a defect in the scent of 
 
 the game ; 694. 
 Favour, beauty ; 747. 
 Fear, frighten ; 1094. 
 Figured, indicated by signs ; 
 
 P.P. iv. 10. 
 Filed; " f . talk," polished 
 
 speech ; P.P. xix. 8. 
 Flap-mouth'd, having broad 
 
 hanging lips ; 920. 
 
 Flazi'S, gusts of wind; 456. 
 Fond, foolish ; 1021. 
 Fondling, darling; 229. 
 Forsook, renounced, proved 
 
 faithless to ; 161. 
 For zcJiy, because; P.P. x. 8; 
 
 XV. 12. 
 Foul, ugly; 133. 
 Fret, chafe ; 621. 
 Frets, corrodes ; 767. 
 
 Gocth about, makes attempts; 
 
 319- 
 Grave, v/ound slightly (with a 
 
 play upon "engrave"); 376. 
 Grey, bluish-gre}^ " blue " ; 140. 
 
 Hard-favour d, ill-featured ; 
 
 133- 
 Heavy, troublesome, annoying 
 
 (with a quibble on the literal 
 
 meaning) ; 156. 
 Helpless, unprofitable; 604. 
 His, its; 359. 
 
 Immure, shut in; 1194. 
 
 Imperious, imperial ; 996. 
 
 Imposthumes, abscesses ; 743. 
 
 Indenting, zigzagging; 704. 
 
 Infusing, inspiring; 928. 
 
 In hand zvith, taking in hand; 
 912. 
 
 Insinuate, try to make favour 
 w^ith ; 1 012. 
 
 Insulter, victor ; 550. 
 
 Intendments, intentions; 222. 
 
 Invention, imagination, imagi- 
 native faculty; Dedic. V. and 
 A. 
 
 Jar, quarrel ; 100.
 
 Glossary 
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 6c. 
 
 Jealous; "j. of catching," fear- 
 ing to be cadght ; 321. 
 Jennet, young mare; 260. 
 
 Kill, kill! the old English bat- 
 tle-cry ; 652. 
 
 Lawnd, lawn; 813. 
 Leave, license ; 568. 
 Listeth, desires ; 564. 
 Livelihood, animation, spirit; 
 
 26. 
 Lure, the call or whistle by 
 
 which the falconer attracts 
 
 the hawk ; 1027. 
 
 Manage, train, break in ; 598. 
 Mane (used as plural) ; 272. 
 Marr'd, had injuriously caused ; 
 
 478. 
 Match, compact ; 586. 
 Mated, bewildered; 909. 
 Measures, dances; 1148. 
 Mermaid, siren ; 429. 
 Miss, misdoing; 53. 
 Mistrustful, producing distrust 
 
 or fear ; 826. 
 More, greater ; 78. 
 Mortal, death-dealing; 618, 
 
 953- 
 Musing, wondering;* 866. 
 Musits, tracks through a 
 
 hedge; 683. 
 
 Nill, will not; P.P. xiv. 8. 
 Nought; "all to n.," good for 
 
 nothing; 993. 
 Nuzzling, thrusting the nose in 
 
 (Quartos, " nousling ") ; 
 
 III5- 
 
 O'erstrazv'd, o'erstrewed ; 1143. 
 
 Orient, bright-shining; 981. 
 Owe, own ; 411. 
 
 Pack, begone; P.P. xv. 17. 
 Pack'd, sent packing; P.P. xv. 
 
 9. 
 
 Pale, enclosure ; 230. 
 
 , paleness ; 589. 
 
 Paphos, a town in Cyprus, sa- 
 cred to Venus ; 1 193. 
 
 Passenger, wayfarer; 91. 
 
 Passions, grieves ; 1059. 
 
 Philomela, the nightingale ; 
 P.P. XV. 5. 
 
 Pine, starve ; 602. 
 
 Pith, strength, force ; 26. 
 
 Precedent, indication (Quar- 
 tos, "president" ; Malone, 
 "precedent") ; 26. 
 
 Pricking spur; 285. The Ro- 
 man spur was never made 
 
 with a rowel but with a goad, 
 as shown in the annexed en- 
 gravings from originals in 
 
 the M u s e o 
 Naples. 
 
 B o r b o n i c o,
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 6c. 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Proof, defensive armour; 626. 
 Prove, experience ; 597. 
 Proved, tested ; 608. 
 
 Rank, excessive, over-full; 71. 
 
 Reaves, bereaves ; 766. 
 
 Relent eth, softens; 200. 
 
 Remorse, mercy; 257. 
 
 Repine, repining, sadness ; 490. 
 
 Respecting, seeing; 911. 
 
 Respects, considerations; 911. 
 
 Root, uproot ; 636. 
 
 Round; "' to r. me on th' ear," ? 
 " to strike me on the ear " ; 
 ( ? " i' the ear"', i.e. to whis- 
 per in my ear) ; P.P. xix. 51. 
 
 Seld, seldom ; P.P. xiii. 7. 
 
 Sensible, endowed with feel- 
 ing; 436. 
 
 Servile to, subject to; 112. 
 
 Set, seated ; 18. ^ 
 
 Severe, merciless ; 1000. 
 
 Shag, shaggy; 295. 
 
 Shine, brightness ; 728. 
 
 Short, shorten ; P.P. xv. 18. 
 
 Shrewd, mischievous, evil ; 500. 
 
 Silly, sim-ple ; 467. 
 
 , innocent, harmless ; 1098. 
 
 Sith, since; 762. 
 
 Slips, used quibblingly for (i) 
 blunders, (ii) counterfeit 
 coins so named; 515. 
 
 Smell, scent ; 686. 
 
 Sorteth, associates ; 689. 
 
 Spleen, heat; P.P. vi. 6. 
 
 Spleens, passionate humours; 
 907. 
 
 Spright, spirit (Quartos, 
 
 ''sprite") ; 181. 
 
 Spring, shoot, blossom ; 656. | 
 
 Springing, blooming; 417, | 
 
 Stain; " st. to all nymphs," i.e. 
 eclipsing all nymphs ; caus- 
 ing them to appear sullied by 
 contrast ; 9. 
 
 Stall'd, got as in a stall, fixed ; 
 P.P. xix. 2. 
 
 Steep-up, high, precipitous ; 
 P.P. ix. 5. 
 
 Stick, hesitate; P.P. xix. 51. 
 
 Stillitory, still ; 443. 
 
 Strangeness, distant manner, 
 reserve; 310. 
 
 Strict, tight, close ; 874. 
 
 Suspect, suspicion ; loio. 
 
 Teen, vexation ; 808. 
 
 Testy, irritated; 319. 
 
 Thick-sighted, short-sighted ; 
 136. 
 
 Think, expect; P.P. xix. 43. 
 
 Timely, early ; P.P. x. 3. 
 
 Tired, (?) attired (Collier, 
 " 'tired," i.e. attired) ; 177. 
 
 Tires, feeds ravenously ; 56. 
 
 Titan, the Sun-god; 177. 
 
 Toward, docile, tractable; 1157. 
 
 Toys, whims ; P.P. xix. 39. 
 
 Treatise, discourse ; 774. 
 
 Trench' d, gashed ; 1052. 
 
 Turn; "this good t.," kind ac- 
 tion (with perhaps a quibble 
 on the previous "turns") ; 92. 
 
 Tushes, tusks; 617. 
 
 Uncouple, set loose the hounds ; 
 
 673. 
 Unkind, childless; 204. 
 Untreads, retraces; 908. 
 Up-till, against, on; P.P. xxi. 
 
 10. 
 Urchin-snouted, snouted like a 
 
 hedge-hog; 1105. 
 
 77
 
 Glossary 
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS, 6c. 
 
 Use, interest ; 768. 
 
 Vaded, faded; P.P. x. i; 
 
 vadeth, fadeth ; P.P. xiii. 2. 
 Vails, lowers ; 314. 
 Venture (pronounced " venter," 
 
 rhyming with "enter"); 
 
 628. 
 Vilia miretur Tulgus, etc. 
 
 Ovid's Amoves , Bk. I. El. xv. 
 
 11. 35- 3^-— 
 " Let base-conceited wifs ad- 
 mire zile things. 
 
 Fair PJiccbus leads me to the 
 Muses' springs," 
 
 ( ? Marlowe's Version, pub. 
 
 circa 1598; cp. Ben Jonson's 
 
 Poetaster, Act i) ; Motto to 
 
 V. and A. 
 Vulture, ravenous; 551. 
 
 Wat, familiar name for a hare ; 
 
 697. 
 Watch, keep awake ; 584. 
 Watch, watchman ; P.P. xv. 2. 
 Wear, wear out; 506. 
 W ell-breath' d, well exercised, 
 
 in good training; 678. 
 JVhen as, when ; 999. 
 Whether ; " they know not 
 
 w.," i.e. which of the two; 
 
 304. 
 Winks, closes the eyes ; 90. 
 Wistly, wistfully; 343. 
 Withhold, restrain ; 612. 
 IVood, mad ; 740. 
 Worm, serpent ; 933. 
 Wrack, ruin; 558. 
 Wreak' d, revenged; 1004. 
 Writ on, writ about (?) 
 
 dieted ; 506. 
 
 pre- 
 
 To me like oaks, to thee like osiers bowed'' (P. P. v. 4). 
 
 [The fable of the oak and osier is illustrated in Whitney's Emblems (1586), 
 
 by an engraving which is here reproduced ] 
 
 78
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. &c. 
 
 Critical Notes. 
 
 BY ISRAEL GOLLANCZ. 
 
 Venus and Adonis: 156, ' sJwiildst' ; Quarto i, 'should/ 
 
 171. cp. Sonnet I. 
 
 211. ' lifeless' ; Quartos i, 2, 3, ' liuelesse.' 
 
 213. 'Statue'; Quartos i, 2, 3, ' Statiie'; cp. 1. 1013; Quartos 3, 
 4, ' statue s.' 
 
 231; 239; 689. 'deer'; Quartos i, 2, 3, ' dearef 
 
 272. 'stand' so Quartos 1-4; the rest, 'stands.' 
 
 283. ' stir' ; Quartos i, 2, 3, ' sturre.' 
 
 304. 'And whether' ; Quartos, 'And where' {i.e. ' ivhe'er'). 
 
 334; 402. ' Ure'; Quartos i, 2, 3, 'Her'; but 'iire' 1. 494 (rhym- 
 ing with ' desire '). 
 
 351. ' With one fair hand she heav- 
 eth up his hat.' The accompanying 
 example of the form of hat used by 
 Roman and Greek travellers, and 
 consequently in classical representa- 
 tions of Mercury, is taken from a 
 figure in the Panathenaic procession, 
 in the British Museum. 
 
 353. 'tenderer'; Quarto i, ' teii- 
 drer''; the rest, 'tender.' 
 
 362. ' gaol ' ; Quartos, ' gaile ' ; 
 ' laile.' 
 
 392. 
 tering 
 
 392. 
 
 429. 
 
 master'd'; Quartos i, 2, 3, 
 ; Quartos i, 2, 3, ' maistring.' 
 rein ' ; Quartos' i-io, ' raine.' 
 mermaid's ' ; early Quartos, 
 
 maister'd' ; cp. \. 114, 
 
 m a rm aides ' ; 'ma r maids 
 
 ^P- 1- 777', Quartos i, 2. 3, ' marmaids ' ; Quarto 4, ' mirm aides.' 
 
 434- 
 454- 
 466. 
 rout.' 
 466. 
 
 invisible'; Steevens conj. 'invincible.' 
 
 wreck'; Quartos, ' wrack e,' 'wrack' {cp. 1. 558). 
 
 bankrupt' ; Quartos, ' bankrout' ' banckrout' ' banque- 
 
 love'; S. Walker conj. 'loss.' 
 
 79
 
 Notes VENUS AND ADONIS, <Sc. 
 
 507. ' verdure ' ; Quartos i, 2, 3, ' verdour.' 
 
 S2g. 'gait'; Quartos, 'gate.' 
 
 547. 'prey'; Quartos, 'pray' (tho' rhyming with 'obey'); so 
 ' prayes,' line 724, and 'pray' (rhyming with 'day'), Hne IC97. 
 
 567. 'venturing' ; Quartos ' ventring.' 
 
 599. ' Tantalus' ' ; Quartos. ' Tantalus.' 
 
 628. 'venture' ; Quartos, 'venter' (rhyming with 'enter'). 
 
 632. ' eyes pay ' ; Quartos i, 2, ' eyes paies.' 
 
 680. 'overshoot! Steevens conj.; Quartos 1.2,3, 'over-shut.' 
 
 705. 'doth'; Quartos 1,2, 3,/ ^0/ 
 
 743. ' imposthumes' ; Quartos, ' impostumes.' 
 
 781. 'run'; Quartos 1,2,3, ' ronne' (rhyming with 'undone'). 
 
 832. 'deeply'; S. Walker conj. 'doubly.' 
 
 902. 'together' ; Quartos, ' togither' (rhyming with 'zvhither') ; 
 cp. line 971; Quartos i, 2, 3, 'all together' (rhyming with 
 ' iveather') ; Quarto 4, ' altogither.' 
 
 940. 'random' ; Quartos 1-4, ' randon.' 
 
 993. 'all to nought' (rhyming with 'wrought') ; Dyce, ' all-to 
 naught'; Delius^ 'all-to-naught.' 
 
 1002. 'decease' early Quartos, ' deccsse' (rhyming with 'con- 
 fess'). 
 
 1013-1014. 'stories His'; Theobald's conjecture; Quartos, 
 ' stories. His.' 
 
 1041. ' ugly ' ; Quarto i, ' ougly.' 
 
 1067. ' limb ' ; Quartos, ' lim.' 
 
 1 1 17. 'been'; Quarto i, ' bin.' 
 
 1 155. 'severe'; early Quartos, 'seveare' (rhyming ^v'lth' fear ') . 
 
 1161. 'servile'; Quartos i, 2, ' seruilT ; cp. line 392, 'servilely'; 
 Quartos i, 2, 3, ' seriiilly.' 
 
 The Passionate Pilgrim : I. II. ; cp. Sonnets, cxxxviii., cxliv. 
 
 III. V. XVII.; cp. Love's Labour's Lost, IV. iii. 60-73; IV. ii. 
 109-122; IV. iii. 101-120. 
 
 VIII. 5. John Dowland was one of the most famous of Eliza- 
 bethan musicians; his song-books appeared in 1597, 1600, and 
 1603 ; his " Pilgrim's Solace " in 1612. There are many references 
 to him in Elizabethan and later literature, more especially to his 
 ' Lachrymce; or, Seven Tears figured in seven heavenlie Pavans' 
 (1605) ; (cp. Bullen's Lyrics from Elizabethan Song-Books). 
 
 XII. 12. 'stay'st ' ; old eds. ' staies.' 
 
 XIII. Two copies of this poem " from a corrected MS." were 
 printed in Gent. Ma^. xx. 521 ; xxx. 39; the variants do not im- 
 prove the poem. 
 
 80
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. &c. 
 
 Notes 
 
 XV. 8. 'And drives'; perhaps we should read, 'And daylight 
 drives' (Anon, conj.)- 
 
 XVIII. 5. 'Love's denying'', Malone's conj.; old eds., 'Love 
 is dying'; England's Helicon, 'Love is denying.' 
 
 7. ' renying ' : ed. 1599, ' nenying.' 
 
 21. 'Love hath forlorn me'; Steevens conj. 'Love forlorn L' 
 
 XVIII. 27-30. ' My shepherd's 
 pipe,' etc. The accompanying 
 engraving, from a bas-relief on 
 the Hotel Bourgtheroulde at 
 Rouen {temp. Francis I.), rep- 
 resents a group 'curiously 
 identical with the poet's words.' 
 
 31-32. 'My sighs 
 Procure to ' ; edd. 1599, 1612, 
 ' With sighes . . . procures 
 to ' ; the reading of the text 
 is Malone's. 
 
 43. ' back-peeping ' ; edd. 1599, 
 1612, ' blacke peeping.' 
 
 XIX. 4. 'fane y, partial 
 zi'ight'; Capell MS. and Ma- 
 lone conj. withdrawn; edd. 
 
 1599. 1612, 'fancy (party all mighty-, ed. 1640, 'fancy (partly 
 all might)'; Malone (from MS. copy), 'fancy, partial like'; 
 Collier (from MS. copy), 'partial fancy like'; Steevens conj. 
 'fancy, partial tike'; Furnivall conj. 'fancy's partial might.' 
 
 45. 'There is no heaven, by holy then'; the line has been 
 variously emended; Malone read from an old MS.: — 
 
 'Here is no heaven; they holy then 
 Begin, when,' etc. 
 
 No satisfactory emendation has been proposed, and perhaps 
 the original reading may be allowed to stand without the 
 comma after 'heaven': — 'there is no heaven by holy then,' i.e. 
 'by that holy time'; others suggest, 'be holy then,' or 'by the 
 holy then,' etc. 
 
 XX. I. 'Live with me, and be my love'; in England's Heli- 
 con, and other early versions the line runs, ' Come live with 
 me,' etc., and in this way it is usually quoted. Two verses 
 found in England's Helicon are omitted in the present version, 
 but included m the 1640 ed., where "Love's Anszver" is also 
 
 81
 
 Notes VENUS AND ADONIS, <Sc, 
 
 in six quatrains; the additional matter was evidently also de- 
 rived from England's Helicon. After 1. 12 the following lines 
 are inserted : — 
 
 " A gown made of the finest wool. 
 Which from our pretty Lambs we pull. 
 Fair lined slippers for the cold, 
 With buckles of the purest gold." 
 
 The last stanza runs thus: — 
 
 " The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing, 
 For thy delight each May morning; 
 If these delights thy mind may move, 
 Then live with me and be my love." 
 
 82
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE.
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 
 
 Preface. 
 
 The Early Editions. The first edition of " Lucrece " 
 was published in quarto in 1594, with the following title- 
 page :— 
 
 " LVCRECE I London. | Printed by Richard Field, 
 for John Harrison, and are | to be sold at the signe of the 
 White Greyhound \ in Paules Church-yard. 1594 | ." * 
 
 The running title is " The Rape of Lvcrece." The 
 Bodleian Library copies of this edition differ in some im- 
 portant readings, showing that the text was corrected 
 while passing through the press. Seven new editions ap- 
 peared by the year 1655 ; the 1616 issue purported to be 
 " newly revised," but the variant readings are of very 
 doubtful value. 
 
 The Source of the Plot. The story of Lucrece had 
 been treated by many English writers before Shakespeare 
 chose it as the subject of " the second heir " of his in- 
 vention. Chaucer told her story in his Legend of Good 
 Women, quoting " Ovid and Titus Livius " as his origi- 
 nals (cp. Ovid's Fasti, ii. 741 : Livy, Bk. L, chs. 57, 58). 
 Lvdgate treated the same theme in his "Falls of Princes'' ; 
 Painter, in his "Palace of Pleasure," 1^67. There were 
 other English renderings, notably " ballads " entered, on 
 the Stationers' Registers in the years 1568, 1570; a ballad 
 was also printed in 1576, 
 
 * Cp. No. 35, " Shakespeare Quarto Fac-similes." 
 
 8S
 
 Preface THE RAPE OF LUCRECE, 6c. 
 
 Shakespeare seems to have read Ovid's version, and this 
 may be considered his main source." * 
 
 The Date of Composition. In the dedication of 
 "Venus and Adonis'' to the Earl of Southampton, the 
 poet had vowed " to take advantage of all idle hours " till 
 "I have honoured you with some graver labour." " Lu- 
 crcce " must therefore have been written after the dedi- 
 cation containing the words, and before its entry on the 
 books of the Stationers' Company, i.e. between April, 
 1593, and May, 1594. 
 
 Like the former poem, Lucrece was also addressed to 
 Southampton : it is instructive, however, to compare the 
 two dedications ; between the first and second letters 
 timid deference towards an exalted patron has ripened into 
 aftectionate devotion. 
 
 A comparison of the two companion poems, Venus and 
 Adonis and Lucrece, the one a study of " female lust and 
 boyish coldness," the other of " male lust and womanly 
 chastity," brings out prominently the advance made in 
 the later poem in respect of ease of versification, maturity 
 of observation, and didactic tendency. This latter supe- 
 riority seems to have been noted by Shakespeare's con- 
 temporaries.! — 
 
 " Who loves chaste life, there Lucrece for a teacher: 
 Who list read lust there's Venus and Adonis." 
 
 (Freeman's Runne and a Great Cast, 1614.) 
 
 * Cp. Baynes' essay on Shakespeare and Ovid, with reference to 
 his early poems (Fraser's Magazine, xxi.). 
 
 i Cp. Preface to " Venus and Adonis." The earliest allusion to 
 Shakespeare by name occurs in connection with a reference to his 
 Lucrece, in the commencing verses of a laudatory address prefixed 
 to " WUlohie his Avisa," 1594. In the same year the author of an 
 Elegy on Lady Helen Branch included among "our greater 
 poetes " : — '' Yon that have writ of Chaste Lucretia " : Drayton's 
 reference, in his Matilda, also in 1504, may have been to a play on 
 the subject, as, in all probability, was Hey wood's allusion in his 
 Apology for Actors, 1612. Heywood's play on Lucrece is not de- 
 
 86
 
 THE RAPE or LUCRECE, 6c. Preface 
 
 "A Lover's Complaint.'' This " Complaint " was first 
 printed in 1609, at the end of the volume of " Sonnets." 
 
 In all probability the poem belongs to about the same 
 period as '' The Rape of Lucrece " ; it is written in the 
 same metre. Francis Meres may possibly have included 
 it in his suggestive " et cetera," when he enumerated the 
 poems of *' mellifluous and honey-tongued Shakespeare." 
 
 The framework of '' A Lover s Complaint;' its pic- 
 turesqueness, versification, diction, repression, tenderness, 
 and beauty, give to it a thoroughly Spenserian character, 
 and convey the impression that we have here an early ex- 
 ercise in the Spenserian style ; as such the poem links 
 itself ultimately to the exquisite '' Complaints " of Spen- 
 ser's great master, Geoffrey Chaucer, with their ruthful 
 burden : — '' Pitc is dede and buried in gentil herte.'' * 
 
 The Phoenix and the Turtle. This poem first ap- 
 peared in a collection published by Robert Chester in 
 1601, under the following descriptive title: — 
 
 void of merit. In 1595 the following words are found in the mar- 
 gin of a curious volume, entitled Polimanfcia, pubHshed at Cam- 
 bridge : — "All praise zvorthy Lucrecia Sweet Shakspeare." 
 
 Sir John Suckling's " supplement of an imperfect Copy of 
 Verses of Mr. Wil. Shakespears " appears at first sight to com- 
 mence with two six-line stanzas, representing a different and per- 
 haps earlier recension of Lucrece, but this is doubtful, and in all 
 probability the alterations were Sir John Suckling's, the verses 
 being derived from one of the books of Elegant Extracts, e.g. 
 " England's Parnassus." 
 
 * Spenser's volume entitled "Complaints: containing Sundry 
 Small Poems of the World's Vanity," was published in 1591 :cp. 
 the following opening lines of " The Ruins of Titne " with "A 
 Lover's Complaint " : — 
 
 "A woman sitting sorrowfully wailing, 
 Rending her yellow locks like wiry gold, 
 About her shoulders carelessly down trailing. 
 And streams of tears from her fair eyes forth railing; 
 In her right hand a broken rod she held. 
 Which towards heaven she seemed on high to weld," 
 
 S7
 
 Preface THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. <5c. 
 
 '' Love's Martyr ; or, Rosalin's Complaint. Allcgoric- 
 ally shadozviiig the truth of Love in the constant Fate of 
 the Phoenix and Turtle. A Poem enterlaced zvith inueh 
 varietie and raritie ; nozv first translated out of the vener- 
 able Italian Torquato Cccliano, by Robert Chester. With 
 the true legend of famous King Arthur, the last of the 
 nine Worthies, being the first essay of a nezv British poet ; 
 collected out of diverse authentical Records. To these 
 are added some nezv compositions, of several modern zvri- 
 fers zv'hose names are subscribed to their several zvorks, 
 upon the first subject: viz., the Phoenix and Turtle." 
 
 The following title prefaces these new compositions : — 
 
 " Hereafter | follow diverse | Poeticall Essaies on 
 the former sub- | ject ; viz. the Turtle and Phoenix. Done 
 by the best and chiefest of our \ moderne writers with 
 their names sub- | scribed to their particular works: | 
 never before extant: \ And (now first) consecrated by 
 them all generally, | to the love and merit of the true- 
 noble Knight, I Sir John Salisburie. | Dignum laude virum 
 Musa vetat mori, MDCI." 
 
 The genuineness of the contribution with vShakespeare's 
 name subscribed is now generally admitted, though no 
 successful attempt has yet been made to explain the alle- 
 gory, nor is any light thrown upon it by the other poems 
 in the collection ; among the contributors, in addition to 
 Shakespeare, were Jonson, Chapman, and Marston. In 
 all probability the occasion and subject of the whole col- 
 lection, which has so long baffled patient research, will 
 some day be discovered, and Shakespeare's meaning will 
 be clear. It would seem from the title-page that the pri- 
 vate family history of Sir John Salisbury ought to yield 
 the necessary clue to the events. There is not much to 
 be said in favour of the view that the Phoenix shadows 
 forth Queen Elizabeth, and the Turtle-dove typifies " the 
 brilliant but impetuous, the greatly doweled but rash, the 
 illustrious but unhappy Robert Devereux, second Earl of 
 
 SB
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 6c. Preface 
 
 Essex." "^ On the other hand, the problem is not settled 
 by describing the allegory as '' the delineation of spiritual 
 union," and refusing to recognize the personal allegory. f 
 Emerson's words. J; uttered some twenty years ago, may 
 well bear repetition : — '' I should like to have the Acad- 
 emy of Letters propose a prize for an essay on Shake- 
 speare's poem, Let the bird of loudest lay, and the TJire- 
 nos with which it closes, the aim of the essay being to 
 explain, by a historical research into the poetic myths and 
 tendencies of the age in which it was written, the frame 
 and allusions of the poem." 
 
 " J^ottJ piclb pour aibs, . . iigbt mia ttjcafter t^ty . . 
 (Cbat tijbifst of tbis same jKBctapbpsical, 
 dBob, man, nor tnoman, but tiifii o'f aH, 
 M^ labouring tbougbts ttJitb stramcD ardour sing, 
 JCBio muse main mount toitb an uncommon tomg." 
 
 * Cp. Dr. Grosart's edition of Love's Martyr (Nezu Sliak. Soc. 
 1878) ; vide also the same scholar's remarks in his privately 
 printed scarce Elizabethan books, Manchester, 1880, etc. ; cp. 
 Transactions of Nezv Shak. Soc. 
 
 t Cp. Halliwell-Phillipps' Outlines, vol. i. 191. 
 
 % Preface to Parnassus, 1875. 
 
 89
 
 To the 
 RIGHT Honourable, HENRT U^RIOTHESLET, 
 
 Earle of Southhamptoriy and Baron of Titchfield. 
 
 CJT^HE hue I dedicate to your Lordship is without 
 end : whereof thi^ Pamphlet without beginning 
 is but a superfluous Moits. The zv arrant I haue of 
 your Honourable disposition, not the worth of my 
 vntutord Lines makes it assured of acceptance. 
 What I haue done is yours, what I haue to doe is 
 yours, bci tg part in all I haue, dcuoted sours. Were 
 my worth greater, ?ny duety would shew greater, 
 meane time, as it is, it is hound to your Lordship ; 
 To whom I wish long life still lengthned with all 
 happinesse. 
 
 Tour Lordships in all duety. 
 
 William Shakespeare,
 
 THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Lucius Tarquinius, for his excessive pride surnamed 
 Superbus, after he had caused his own father-in-law 
 vServius Tullius to be cruelly murdered, and, contrary 
 to the Roman laws and customs, not requiring or stay- 
 ing for the people's suffrages, had possessed himself of 
 the kingdom, went, accompanied with his sons and other 
 noblemen of Rome, to besiege Ardea. During which 
 siege the principal men of the army meeting one evening 
 at the tent of Sextus Tarquinius, the king's son, in their 
 discourses after supper every one commended the vir- 
 tues of his own wife ; among whom Collatinus extolled 
 the incomparable chastity of his wife Lucretia. In that 
 pleasant humour they all posted to Rome; and intend- 
 ing, by their secret and sudden arrival, to make trial of that 
 which every one had before avouched, only Collatinus 
 finds his wife, though it were late in the night, spinning 
 amongst her maids : the other ladies were all found dan- 
 cing and revelling, or in several disports. Whereupon the 
 noblemen yielded Collatinus the victory, and his wife 
 the fame. At that time Sextus Tarquinius being in- 
 flamed with Lucrece' beauty, yet smothering his pas- 
 sions for the present, departed with the rest back to the 
 camp; from w^hence he shortly after privily withdrew 
 himself, and was, according to his estate, royally enter- 
 tained and lodged by Lucrece at Collatium. The same 
 night he treacherously stealeth into her chamber, vio- 
 lently ravished her, and early in the morning speedeth 
 away. Lucrece, in this lamentable plight, hastily dis- 
 patcheth messengers, one to Rome for her father, an- 
 other to the camp for Collatine. They came, the one 
 accompanied with Junius Brutus, the other with Publius 
 
 91
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. &c, 
 
 Valerius; and finding Lucrece attired in mourning 
 habit, demanded the cause of her sorrow. She, first tak- 
 ing an oath of them for her revenge, revealed the actor 
 and whole manner of his dealing, and withal suddenly 
 stabbed herself. Which done, with one consent they all 
 vowed to root out the whole hated family of the Tar- 
 quins; and bearing the dead body to Rome, Brutus ac- 
 quainted the people with the doer and manner of the vile 
 deed, with a bitter invective against the tyranny of the 
 king : wherewith the people were so moved, that with one 
 consent and a general acclamation the Tarquins were all 
 exiled, and the state government changed from kings to 
 consuls. 
 
 92
 
 The Rape of Lucrece. 
 
 From the besieged Ardea all in post, 
 Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, 
 Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host, 
 And to Collatium bears the lightless fire, 
 Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire. 
 
 And girdle with embracing flames the waist 
 Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste. 
 
 Haply that name of ' chaste ' unhappily set 
 
 This bateless edge on his keen appetite; 
 
 When Collatine unwisely did not let lo 
 
 To praise the clear unmatched red and white 
 
 Which triumph'd in that sky of his delight, 
 
 Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties, 
 With pure aspects did him peculiar duties. 
 
 For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent, 
 
 Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state; 
 
 What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent 
 
 In the possession of his beauteous mate; 
 
 Reckoning his fortune at such high-proud rate. 
 
 That kings might be espoused to more fame, 20 
 
 But king nor peer to such a peerless dame. 
 
 93
 
 Verses 4-7 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 O happiness enjoy VI but of a few! 
 
 And, if possess'd, as soon decay'd and done 
 
 As is the morning's silver-meUing dew 
 
 Against the golden splendour of the sun ! 
 
 An expired date, cancell'd ere well begun: 
 Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms, 
 Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms. 
 
 Beauty itself doth of itself persuade 
 
 The eyes of men without an orator; 30 
 
 What needeth then apologies be made, 
 
 To set forth that w^hich is so singular ? 
 
 Or why is Collatine the publisher 
 
 Of that rich jewel he should keep unknow^n 
 From thievish ears, because it is his own? 
 
 Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sovereignty 
 
 Suggested this proud issue of a king ; 
 
 For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be: 
 
 Perchance that envy of so rich a thing. 
 
 Braving compare, disdainfully did sting 40 
 
 His high-pitch'd thoughts, that meaner men should 
 vaunt 
 
 That golden hap which their superiors want. 
 
 But some untimely thought did instigate 
 His all-too-timelcss speed, if none of those: 
 His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state, 
 Neglected all, v^^ith swift intent he goes 
 To quench the coal which in his liver glows. 
 
 O rash-false heat, wrapp'd in repentant cold. 
 Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows old! 
 
 94
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 8-11 
 
 When at Collatium this false lord arrived, 50 
 
 Well was he welcomed by the Roman dame, 
 Within whose face beauty and virtue strived 
 Which of them both should underprop her fame: 
 When virtue bragg'd, beauty would blush for shame; 
 When beauty boasted blushes, in despite 
 Virtue would stain thaf o'er with silver white. 
 
 But beauty, in that white intituled. 
 From \"enus' doves doth challenge that fair field: 
 Then virtue claims from beauty beauty's red, 
 Which virtue gave the golden age to gild 60 
 
 Their silver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield; 
 Teaching them thus to use it in the fight, 
 When shame assail'd, the red should fence the white. 
 
 This heraldry in Lucrecc' face was seen, 
 Argued by beauty's red and virtue's white: 
 Of either's colour was the other queen, 
 Proving from world's minority their right: 
 Yet their ambition makes them still to fight; 
 The sovereignty of either being so great, 
 That oft they interchange each other's seat. 70 
 
 This silent war of lilies and of roses. 
 Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field. 
 In their pure ranks his traitor eye encloses; . 
 Where, lest between them both it should be kill'd. 
 The coward captive vanquished doth yield 
 
 To those two armies, that would let him go 
 Rather than triumph in so false a foe. 
 
 95
 
 Verses 12-15 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 Now thinks he that her husband's shallow tongue, 
 The niggard prodigal that praised her so, 
 In that high task hath done her beauty wrong, 8c 
 
 Which far exceeds his barren skill to show: 
 Therefore that praise which Collatine doth owe 
 
 Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise, 
 
 In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes. 
 
 This earthly saint, adored by this devil, 
 
 Little suspecteth the false worshipper; 
 
 For unstain'd thoughts do seldom dream on evil; 
 
 Birds never limed no secret bushes fear: 
 
 So guiltless she securely gives good cheer 
 
 And reverend welcome to her princely guest, 90 
 
 Whose inward ill no outward harm express'd: 
 
 For that he colour'd with his high estate. 
 Hiding base sin in plaits of majesty; 
 That nothing in him seem'd inordinate, 
 Save sometime too much wonder of his eye, 
 Which, having ah, all could not satisfy; 
 
 But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store, 
 That, cloy'd with much, he pineth still for more. 
 
 But she, that never coped with stranger eyes, 
 Could pick no meaning from their parling looks, 100 
 
 Nor read the subtle-shining secrecies 
 Writ in the glassy margents of such books: 
 She touch'd no unknown baits, nor fear'd no hooks; 
 Nor could she moralize his wanton sight, 
 More than his eyes were open'd to the light. 
 
 96
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 16—19 
 
 He stories to her ears her hubsand's fame, 
 
 Won in the fields of fruitful Italy ; 
 
 And decks with praises Collatine's high name, 
 
 Made glorious by his manly chivalry 
 
 With bruised arms and wreaths of victory: no 
 
 Her joy with heaved-up hand she doth express, 
 And wordless so greets heaven for his success. 
 
 Far from the purpose of his coming hither, 
 He makes excuses for his being there: 
 No cloudy show of stormy blustering weather 
 Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear ; 
 Till sable Night, mother of dread and fear, 
 
 Upon the world dim darkness doth display, 
 And in her vaulty prison stows the day. 
 
 For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed, . 120 
 
 Intending weariness with heavy spright; 
 For after supper long he questioned 
 With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night : 
 Now leaden slumber with life's strength doth fight ; 
 And every one to rest themselves betake, 
 Save thieves and cares and troubled minds that wake. 
 
 As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving 
 
 The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining; 
 
 Yet ever to obtain his will resolving, 
 
 Though weak-built hopes persuade him to abstaining : 130 
 
 Despair to gain doth traffic oft for gaining, 
 
 And when great treasure is the meed proposed, 
 Though death be adjunct, there 's no death supposed. 
 
 97
 
 Verses 20-23 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 Those that much covet are with gain so fond 
 That what they have not, that which they possess, 
 They scatter and unloose it from their bond, 
 And so, by hoping more, they have but less; 
 Or, gaining more, the profit of excess 
 
 Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain, 
 
 That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain. 140 
 
 The aim of all is but to nurse the life 
 
 With honour, wealth and ease, in waning age; 
 
 And in this aim there is such thwarting strife 
 
 That one for all or all for one we gage; 
 
 As life for honour in fell battle's rage; 
 
 Honour for wealth ; and oft that wealth doth cost 
 The death of all, and all together lost. 
 
 So that in venturing ill we leave to be 
 
 The things we are for that which we expect; 
 
 And this ambitious foul infirmity, 150 
 
 In having much, torments us with defect 
 
 Of that we have: so then we do neglect 
 
 The thing we have, and, all for want of wit. 
 Make something nothing by augmenting it. 
 
 Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make, 
 
 Pawning his honour to obtain his lust; 
 
 And for himself himself he must forsake: 
 
 Then where is truth, if there be no self-trust? 
 
 When shall he think to find a stranger just, 
 
 When he himself himself confounds, betrays 160 
 To slanderous tongues and wretched hateful days?
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 24-27 
 
 Now stole upon the time the dead of night, 
 \Vhen heavy sleep had closed up mortal eyes: 
 No comfortable star did lend his light, 
 No noise but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries; 
 Now serves the season that they may surprise 
 
 The silly lambs : pure thoughts are dead and still, 
 While lust and murder wakes to stain and kill. 
 
 And now this lustful lord leap'd from his bed, 
 
 Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm; 170 
 
 Is madly toss'd between desire and dread; 
 
 Th' one sweetly flatters, th' other feareth harm; 
 
 But honest fear, bewitch'd with lust's foul charms, 
 Doth too too oft betake him to retire, 
 Beaten away by brain-sick rude desire. 
 
 His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth. 
 
 That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly; 
 
 Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth, 
 
 Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye ; 
 
 And to the flame thus speaks advisedly: 180 
 
 ' As from this cold flint I enforced this fire. 
 So Lucrece must I force to my desire.' 
 
 Here pale with fear he doth premeditate 
 The dangers of his loathsome enterprise, 
 And in his inward mind he doth debate 
 What following sorrow may on this arise: 
 Then looking scornfully he doth despise 
 
 His naked armour of still-slaughter'd lust, 
 And justly thus controls his thoughts unjust : 
 
 99
 
 Verses 28-31 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' Fair torch, burn out thy hght, and lend it not 190 
 
 To darken her whose hght excelleth thine : 
 And die, unhahow'd thoughts, before you blot 
 With your uncleanness that which is divine: 
 Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine : 
 
 Let fair humanity abhor the deed 
 
 That spots and stains love's modest snow-white weed. 
 
 ' O shame to knighthood and to shining arms! 
 
 O foul dishonour to my household's grave! 
 
 O impious act, including all foul harms ! 
 
 A martial man to be soft fancy's slave! 200 
 
 True valour still a true respect should have; 
 
 Then my digression is so vile, so base, 
 
 That it will live engraven in my face. 
 
 ' Yea though I die, the scandal will survive, 
 
 And be an eye-sore in my golden coat; 
 
 Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive, 
 
 To cipher me how fondly I did dote; 
 
 That my posterity, shamed with the note, 
 
 Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin 
 
 To wish that I their father had not been. 210 
 
 ' What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? 
 
 A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. 
 
 Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? 
 
 Or sells eternity to get a toy? 
 
 For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy? 
 
 Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown. 
 Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down ?
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 32-35 
 
 ' If CoUatinus dream of my intent, 
 
 Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage 
 
 Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent? 220 
 
 This siege that hath engirt his marriage, 
 
 This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage, 
 This dying virtue, this surviving shame, 
 Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame 
 
 ' O what excuse can my invention make, 
 When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed? 
 Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake, 
 }.Iine eyes forego their Hght, my false heart bleed? 
 The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed; 
 
 And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly, 230 
 
 But coward-Hke with trembhng terror die. 
 
 * Had CoUatinus kill'd my son or sire, 
 Or lain in ambush to betray my life. 
 Or were he not my dear friend, this desire 
 Might have excuse to work upon his wife, 
 As in revenge or quittal of such strife : 
 
 But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend. 
 The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end. 
 
 ' Shameful it is; ay, if the fact be known: 
 Hateful it is ; there is no hate in loving : 240 
 
 I '11 beg her love; but she is not her own: 
 The worst is but denial and reproving: 
 My will is strong, past reason's weak removing. 
 Who fears a sentence or an old man's saw 
 Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.' 
 
 lOI
 
 Verses 36-39 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 Thus graceless holds he disputation 
 'Tween frozen conscience and hot-burning will, 
 And with good thoughts makes dispensation, 
 Urging the worser sense for vantage still; 
 Which in a moment doth confound and kill 250 
 
 All pure effects, and doth so far proceed 
 That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed 
 
 Quoth he, ' she took me kindly by the hand, 
 And gazed for tidings in my eager eyes, 
 Fearing some hard news from the warlike band, 
 Where her beloved Collatinus lies. 
 O, how her fear did make her colour rise! 
 First red as roses that on lawn we lay, 
 Then white as lawn, the roses took away. 
 
 ' And how her hand, in my hand being lock'd, 260 
 
 Forced it to tremble with her loyal fear! 
 
 Which struck her sad, and then it faster rock'd. 
 
 Until her husband's w^elfare she did hear ; 
 
 Whereat she smiled with so sweet a cheer 
 
 That had Narcissus seen her as she stood 
 Self-love had never drown'd him in the flood. 
 
 ' Why hunt I then for colour or excuses ? 
 
 All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth; 
 
 Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses; 
 
 I>ove thrives not in the b.eart tliat shadows dreadeth : 
 
 Affection is my captain, and he leadeth; 271 
 
 And when his gaudy banner is display'd, 
 The coward fights, and will not be dismay'd. 
 
 102
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 40-43 
 
 'Then, childish fear avaunt! debating die! 
 Respect and reason wait on wrinkled age! 
 My heart shall never countermand mine eye: 
 Sad pause and deep regard beseems the sage ; 
 My part is youth, and beats these from the stage: 
 
 Desire my pilot is, beauty my prize ; 
 
 Then who fears sinking w^here such treasure lies ? ' 
 
 As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear 281 
 
 Is almost choked by unresisted lust. 
 
 Away he steals with open listening ear. 
 
 Full of foul hope and full of fond mistrust; 
 
 Both which, as servitors to the unjust, 
 
 So cross him with their opposite persuasion, 
 That now he vows a league, and now invasion. 
 
 Within his thought her heavenly image sits. 
 
 And in the self-same seat sits Collatine: 
 
 That eye which looks on her confounds his wits; 290 
 
 That eye which him beholds, as more divine, 
 
 Unto a view so false will not incline; 
 
 But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart. 
 Which once corrupted takes the worser part; 
 
 And therein heartens up his servile powers. 
 Who, fiatter'd by their leader's jocund show, 
 Stuf¥ up his lust, as minutes fill up hours; 
 And as their captain, so their pride doth grow. 
 Paying more slavish tribute than they owe. 
 
 By reprobate desire thus madly led, 300 
 
 The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed. 
 
 103
 
 Verses 44-47 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 The locks between her chamber and his will, 
 Each one by him enforced, retires his ward; 
 But, as they open, they all rate his ill. 
 Which drives the creeping thief to some regard: 
 The threshold grates the door to have him heard; 
 
 Night-wandering weasels shriek to see him there; 
 
 They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear. 
 
 As each unwilling portal yields him way, 
 
 Through little vents and crannies of the place 310 
 
 The wind wars with his torch to make him stay. 
 
 And blows the smoke of it into his face. 
 
 Extinguishing his conduct in this case; 
 
 But his hot heart, which fond desire doth scorch. 
 Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch: 
 
 And being lighted, by +.he light he spies 
 
 Lucretia's glove, wherein her needle sticks: 
 
 He takes it from the rushes where it lies. 
 
 And griping it, the needle his finger pricks; 
 
 As who should say ' This glove to wanton tricks 320 
 
 Is not inured; return again in haste; 
 
 Thou see'st our mistress' ornaments are chaste.' 
 
 But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him; 
 He in the worst sense construes their denial: 
 The doors, the wind, the glove, that did delay him. 
 He takes for accidental things of trial; 
 Or as those bars which stop the hourly dial. 
 
 Who with a lingering stav his course doth let, 
 Till every minute pays the hour his debt. 
 
 104
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 48-5i 
 
 ' So, so,' quoth he, * these lets attend the time, 330 
 
 Like Httle frosts that sometime threat the spring, 
 
 To add a more rejoicing to the prime. 
 
 And give the sneaped birds more cause to sing. 
 
 Pain pays the income of each precious thing; 
 
 Huge rocks, high winds, strong pirates, shelves and 
 sands. 
 
 The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands.' 
 
 Now is he come unto the chamber door, 
 
 That shuts him from the heaven of his thought, 
 
 Which with a yielding latch, and with no more, 
 
 Hath barr'd him from the blessed thing he sought. 340 
 
 So from himself impiety hath wrought. 
 
 That for his prey to pray he doth begin, ^ 
 
 As if the heavens should countenance his sin. 
 
 But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer. 
 Having solicited the eternal power 
 That his foul thoughts might compass his fair fair. 
 And they would stand auspicious to the hour. 
 Even there he starts: quoth he, ' I must deflower: 
 
 The powers to whom I pray abhor this fact; 
 
 How can they then assist me in the act? • 35c 
 
 ' Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my guide! 
 
 My will is back'd with resolution: 
 
 Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried; 
 
 The blackest sin is clear'd with absolution; 
 
 A^gainst love's fire fear's frost hath dissolution. 
 The eye of heaven is out, and misty night 
 Covers the shame that follows sweet delight.' 
 
 IC5
 
 Verses 52—55 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 This said, his guihy hand pluck'd up the latch, 
 
 And with his knee the door he opens wide. 
 
 The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch: 360 
 
 Thus treason works ere traitors be espied. 
 
 Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside ; 
 
 But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing. 
 Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting. 
 
 Into the chamber wickedly he stalks 
 
 And gazeth on her yet unstained bed. 
 
 The curtains being close, about he walks. 
 
 Rolling his greedy eyeballs in his head: 
 
 By their high treason is his heart misled ; 
 
 Which gives the watch-word to his hand full soon 
 To draw the cloud that hides the silver moon. 371 
 
 Look, as the fair and fiery-pointed sun. 
 Rushing from forth a cloud, bereaves our sight; 
 Even so, the curtain drawn, his eyes begun 
 To wink, being blinded with a greater light: 
 Whether it is that she reflects so bright. 
 
 That dazzleth them, or else some shame supposed; 
 
 But blind they are, and keep themselves enclosed. 
 
 O, had they in that darksome prison died! 
 
 Then had they seen the period of their ill; 380 
 
 Then Collatine again, by Lucrece' side. 
 
 In his clear bed might have reposed still : 
 
 But they must ope, this blessed league to kill ; 
 And holy-thoughted Lucrece to their sight 
 Must sell her joy, her Hfe, her world's delight. 
 
 106
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 56-50 
 
 Her lily hand her rosy cheek l^es under, 
 
 Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss; 
 
 Who, therefore angry, seems to part in sunder, 
 
 Swelling on either side to want his bliss; 
 
 Between whose hills her head entombed is : 390 
 
 Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies, 
 To be admired of lewd unhallow'd eyes. 
 
 Without the bed her other fair hand was, 
 On the green coverlet; whose perfect v/hite 
 Show'd like an April daisy on the grass, 
 W'ith pearly sweat, resembling dew of night. 
 Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheathed their light, 
 And canopied in darkness sweetly lay, 
 Till they might open to adorn the day. 
 
 Her hair, like golden threads, play'd with her breath* 
 O modest wantons! wanton modesty! 401 
 
 Showing life's triumph in the map of death, 
 .\nd death's dim look in life's mortality : 
 Each in her sleep themselves so beautify 
 
 As if between them twain there were 'no strife, 
 But that life lived in death and death in Hfe. 
 
 Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blue, 
 A pair of maiden worlds unconquered, 
 Save of their lord no bearing yoke they knew. 
 And him by oath they truly honoured. 410 
 
 These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred; 
 Who, like a foul usurper, went about 
 From this fair throne to heave the owner out. 
 
 107
 
 Verses 60-63 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 What could he sec but mightily he noted? 
 What did he note but strongly he desired? 
 What he beheld, on that he firmly doted, 
 And in his will his wilful eye he tired. 
 With more than admiration he admired 
 
 Her azure veins, her alabaster skin, 
 
 Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin. 420 
 
 As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey. 
 Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied. 
 So o'er this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay. 
 His rage of lust by gazing qualified; 
 Slack'd, not suppress'd ; for standing by her side, 
 His eye, which late this mutiny restrains, 
 Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins: 
 
 And they, like straggling slaves for pillage fighting, 
 Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting, 
 In bloody death and ravishment delighting, 430 
 
 Nor children's tears nor mothers' groans respecting, 
 Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting: 
 Anon his beating heart, alarum striking. 
 Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liking. 
 
 His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye, 
 
 His eye commends the leading to his hand; 
 
 His hand, as proud of such a dignity. 
 
 Smoking with pride, march'd on to make his stand 
 
 On her bare breast, the heart of all her land; 
 
 Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did scale. 
 Left their round turrets destitute and pale. 441 
 
 108 
 
 I
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 64—67 
 
 They, mustering to the quiet cabinet 
 Where their dear governess and lady hes, 
 Do tell her she is dreadfully beset, 
 And fright her with confusion of their cries: 
 She, much amazed, breaks ope her lock'd-up eyes, 
 Who, peeping forth this tumult to behold, 
 Are by his flaming torch dimm'd and controU'd. 
 
 Imagine her as one in dead of night 
 From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking, 450 
 That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly sprite, 
 Whose grim aspect sets every joint a-shaking; 
 What terror 'tis! but she, in worser taking, 
 From sleep disturbed, heedfully doth view 
 The sight which makes supposed terror true. 
 
 Wrapp'd and confounded in a thousand fears, 
 
 Like to a new-kill'd bird she trembling lies; 
 
 She dares not look; yet, winking, there appears 
 
 Quick-shifting antics, ugly in her eyes: 
 
 Such shadows are the weak brain's forgeries; 460 
 
 Who, angry that the eyes fly from their lights. 
 In darkness daunts them with more dreadful sights. 
 
 His hand, that yet remains upon her breast, — 
 Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall! — 
 May feel her heart, poor citizen! distress'd, 
 Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall. 
 Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal. 
 
 This moves in him more rage and lesser pity, 
 To make the breach and enter this sweet city. 
 
 109
 
 Verses 68-71 ^ THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 First, like a trumpet, dotli his tongue begin 470 
 
 To sound a parley to his heartless foe; 
 
 Who o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin, 
 
 The reason of this rash alarm to know, 
 
 Which he by dumb demeanour seeks to show; 
 But she with vehement prayers urgeth still 
 Under what colour he commits this ill. 
 
 Thus he replies : ' The colour in thy face, 
 
 That even for anger makes the lily pale 
 
 And the red rose blush at her own disgrace, 
 
 Shall plead for me and tell my loving tale: 480 
 
 Under that colour am I come to scale 
 
 Thy never-conquered fort: the fault is thine. 
 For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine. 
 
 ' Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide: 
 Thy beauty hath ensnared thee to this night. 
 Where thou with patience must my will abide; 
 My will that marks thee for my earth's delight. 
 Which I to conquer sought with all my might; 
 But as reproof and reason beat it dead, 
 By thy bright beauty was it newly bred. 490 
 
 ' I see what crosses my attempt will bring; 
 
 I know w^hat thorns the growing rose defends; 
 
 I think the honey guarded with a sting; 
 
 All this beforehand counsel comprehends: 
 
 But will is deaf and hears no heedful friends; 
 Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty. 
 And dotes on what he looks, 'gainst law or duty. 
 
 no
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 72-75 
 
 ' I have debated, even in my soul, 
 
 What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall breed; 
 
 But nothing can affection's course control, 500 
 
 Or stop the headlong fury of his speed. 
 
 I know repentant tears ensue the deed, 
 
 Reproach, disdain and deadly enmity; 
 
 Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy.' 
 
 This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade, 
 Which, like a falcon towering in the skies, 
 Coucheth the fowl below with his wings' shade, 
 Whose crooked beak threats if he mount he dies: 
 So under his insulting falchion lies 
 
 Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells 510 
 
 With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon's bells. 
 
 ' Lucrece,' quoth he, ' this night I must enjoy thee: 
 If thou deny, then force must work my way. 
 For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee: 
 That done, some worthless slave of thine I '11 slay, 
 To kill thine honour with thy life's decay; 
 
 And in thy dead arms do I mean to place him. 
 Swearing I slew him, seeing thee embrace him. 
 
 * So thy surviving husband shall remain 
 
 The scornful mark of every open eye; 520 
 
 Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdain. 
 
 Thy issue blurr'd with nameless bastardy: 
 
 And thou, the author of their obloquy 
 
 Shalt have thy trespass cited up in rhymes 
 And sung by children in succeeding times. 
 
 Ill
 
 Verses 76-79 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' But if thou yield, I rest thy secret friend: 
 
 The fault unknown is as a thought unacted; 
 
 A little harm done to a great good end 
 
 For lawful policy remains enacted. 
 
 The poisonous simple sometime is compacted 530 
 
 In a pure compound; being so applied, 
 
 His venom in effect is purified. 
 
 * Then, for thy husband and thy children's sake, 
 Tender my suit: bequeath not to their lot 
 The shame that from them no device can take, 
 The blemish that will never be forgot; 
 Worse than a slavish wipe or birth-hour's blot: 
 For marks descried in men's nativity 
 Are nature's faults, not their own infamy/ 
 
 Here with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye 540 
 
 He rouseth up himself, and makes a pause; 
 
 While she, the picture of true piety, 
 
 Like a white hind under the gripe's sharp claws, 
 
 Pleads, in a wilderness where are no laws. 
 
 To the rough beast that knows no gentle right, 
 Nor aught obeys but his foul appetite. 
 
 But when a black-faced cloud the world doth threat, 
 In his dim mist the aspiring mountains hiding. 
 From earth's dark womb some gentle gust doth get, 
 Which blows these pitchy vapours from their biding. 
 Hindering their present fall by this dividing; 551 
 
 So his unhallow'd haste her words delays. 
 And moody Pluto winks while Orpheus plays. 
 
 112
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 80-83 
 
 Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally. 
 While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse panteth: 
 Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly, 
 A swallowing gulf that even in plenty wanteth ; 
 His ear her prayers admits, but his heart granteth 
 No penetrable entrance to her plaining: 
 Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining. 
 
 Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fixed 561 
 
 In the remorseless wrinkles of his face; 
 
 Her modest eloquence with sighs is mixed. 
 
 Which to her oratory adds more grace. 
 
 She puts the period often from his place, 
 
 And midst the sentence so her accent breaks 
 That twice she doth begin ere once she speaks. 
 
 She conjures him by high almighty Jove, 
 By knighthood, gentry, and sweet friendship's oath, 
 By her untimely tears, her husband's love, 570 
 
 By holy human law and common troth, 
 By heaven and earth, and all the power of both. 
 That to his borrow'd bed he make retire, 
 And stoop to honour, not to foul desire. 
 
 Quoth she: ' Reward not hospitality 
 With such black payment as thou hast pretended; 
 Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee; 
 Mar not the thing that cannot be amended; 
 End thy ill aim before thy shoot be ended; 
 
 He is no woodman that doth bend his bow 581 
 
 To strike a poor unseasonable doe. 
 
 113
 
 Verses 84-87 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' My husband is thy friend; for his sake spare me: 
 Thyself art mighty; for thine own sake leave me: 
 Myself a weakling; do not then ensnare me: 
 Thou look'st not like deceit; do not deceive me. 
 My sighs, like whirlwinds, labour hence to heave thee: 
 If ever man were moved with woman's moans, 
 Be moved with my tears, my sighs, my groans: 
 
 ' All which together, like a troubled ocean. 
 
 Beat at thy rocky and wreck-threatening heart, 590 
 
 To soften it with their continual motion; 
 
 For stones dissolved to water do co.nvert. 
 
 O, if no harder than a stone thou art, 
 
 Melt at my tears, and be compassionate! 
 
 vSoft pity enters at an iron gate. 
 
 ' In Tarquin's likeness I did entertain thee: 
 
 Hast thou put on his shape to do him shame? 
 
 To all the host of heaven I complain me, 
 
 Thou wrongest his honour, wound'st his princely name. 
 
 Thou art not what thou seem'st; and if the same, 600 
 
 Thou seem'st not v/hat thou art, a god, a king; 
 
 For kings, like gods, should govern every thing. 
 
 ' liow will thy shame be seeded in thine age. 
 When thus thy vices bud before thy spring! 
 If in thy hope thou darest do such outrage. 
 What darest thou not when once thou art a king] 
 O, be remember'd, no outrageous thing 
 
 From vassal actors can be wiped away; 
 
 Then kings' misdeeds cannot be hid in clay. 
 
 114
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 88-91 
 
 * This deed will make thee only loved for fear; 6io 
 
 But happy monarchs still are fear'd for love: 
 With foul offenders thou perforce must bear, 
 When they in thee the like ofifences prove: 
 If but for fear of this, thy will remove ; 
 
 For princes are the glass, the school, the book. 
 Where subjects' eyes do learn, do read, do look. 
 
 * And wilt thou be the school where Lust shall learn? 
 
 Must he in thee read lectures of such shame? 
 
 Wilt thou be glass wherein it shall discern 
 
 Authority for sin, warrant for blame, 620 
 
 To privilege dishonour in thy name? 
 
 Thou back'st reproach against long-living laud, 
 And makest fair reputation but a bawd. 
 
 ' Hast thou command? by him that gave it thee, 
 
 From a pure heart command thy rebel will: 
 
 Draw not thy sword to guard iniquity, 
 
 For it was lent thee all that brood to kill. 
 
 Thy princely oiifice how canst thou fulfil, 
 
 When, pattern'd by thy fault, foul sin may say 
 
 He learn'd to sin and thou didst teach the way? 630 
 
 ' Think but how vile a spectacle it were, 
 To view thy present trespass in another. 
 Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear; 
 Their own transgressions partially they smother: 
 This guilt would seem death-worthy in thy brother. 
 C), how are they wrapp'd in with infamies 
 That from their own misdeeds askance their eyes!
 
 Verses 92-95 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' To thee, to thee, my heaved-up hands appeal. 
 
 Not to seducing lust, thy rash relier: 
 
 I sue for exiled majesty's repeal ; 640 
 
 Let him return, and flattering thoughts retire: 
 
 His true respect will prison false desire, 
 
 And wipe the dim mist from thy doting eyne, 
 That thou slialt see thy state and pity mine.' 
 
 ' Have done,' quoth he : ' my uncontrolled tide - 
 
 Turns not, but swells the higher by this let. 
 
 Small lights are soon blown out, huge fires abide. 
 
 And with the wind in greater fury fret: 
 
 The petty streams that pay a daily debt 
 
 To their salt sovereign, with their fresh falls' haste 
 Add to his flow, but alter not his taste.' 651 
 
 * Thou art,' quoth she, 'a sea, a sovereign king; 
 And, lo, there falls into thy boundless flood 
 Black lust, dishonour, shame, misgoverning. 
 Who seek to stain the ocean of thy blood. 
 If all these petty ills shall change thy good, 
 
 Thy sea within a puddle's womb is hearsed, 
 And not the puddle in thy sea dispersed. 
 
 * So shall these slaves be king, and thou their slave; 
 Thou nobly base, they basely dignified; 660 
 
 Thou their fair life, and they thy fouler grave: 
 Thou loathed in their shame, they in thv pride: 
 The lesser thing should not the greater hide; 
 
 The cedar stoops not to the base shrub's foot, 
 But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root. 
 
 116 
 
 I
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 96—99 
 
 ' So let thy thoughts, low vassals to thy state ' — 
 * No more,' quoth he; ' by heaven, I will not hear thee: 
 Yield to my love; if not, enforced hate, 
 Instead of love's coy touch, shall rudely tear thee: 
 That done, despitefully I mean to bear thee 670 
 
 Unto the base bed of some rascal groom. 
 To be thy partner in this shameful doom.' 
 
 This said, he sets his foot upon the light. 
 For light and lust are deadly enemies: 
 Shame folded up in blind concealing night. 
 When most unseen, thou most doth tyrannize. 
 The wolf hath seized his prey, the poor lamb cries; 
 
 Till with her own white fleece her voice controll'd 
 Entombs her outcry in her lips' sweet fold: 
 
 For with the nightly linen that she wears 680 
 
 He pens her piteous clamours in her head. 
 
 Cooling his hot face in the chastest tears 
 
 That ever modest eyes with sorrow shed. 
 
 O, that prone lust should stain so pure a bed! 
 The spots whereof could weeping purify, 
 Her tears should drop on them perpetually. 
 
 But she hath lost a dearer thing than life, 
 And he hath won what he would lose again: 
 This forced league doth force a further strife; 
 This momentary joy breeds months of pain; 690 
 
 This hot desire converts to cold disdain: 
 Pure Chastity is rifled of her store, 
 And Lust, the thief, far poorer than before. 
 
 117
 
 Verses 100—103 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 Look, as the full-fed hound 'or gorged hawk, 
 
 Unapt for tender smell or speedy flight, 
 
 Make slow pursuit, or altogether balk 
 
 The prey wherein by nature they delight. 
 
 So surfeit-taking Tarquin fares this night: 
 His taste delicious, in digestion souring, 
 Devours his will, that lived by foul devouring. 700 
 
 O, deeper sin than bottomless conceit 
 Can comprehend in still imagination! 
 Drunken Desire must vomit his receipt. 
 Ere he can see his own abomination. 
 While Lust is in his pride, no exclamation 
 Can curb his heat or rein his rash desire, 
 Till, like a jade, Self-will himself doth tire. 
 
 And then with lank and lean discolour'd cheek. 
 
 With heavy eye, knit brow, and strengthless pace, 
 
 Feeble Desire, all recreant, poor and meek, 710 
 
 Like to a bankrupt beggar wails his case: 
 
 The flesh being proud. Desire doth fight with Gi^ace, 
 
 For there it revels, and when that decays 
 
 The guilty rebel for remission prays. 
 
 So fares it with this faultful lord of Rome, 
 
 Who this accomplishment so hotly chased; 
 
 For now against himself he sounds this doom, 
 
 That through the length of times he stands disgraced: 
 
 Besides, his soul's fair temple is defaced. 
 
 To whose weak ruins muster troops of cares, 720 
 To ask the spotted princess how she fares. 
 
 118
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 104—107 
 
 She says, her subjects with foul insurrection 
 Have batter'd down her consecrated wah, 
 And by their mortal fault brought in subjection 
 Her immortality, and made her thrall 
 To living death and pain perpetual: 
 
 Which in her prescience she controlled still 
 But her foresight could not forestall their will. 
 
 Even in this thought through the dark night he stealeth. 
 A captive victor that hath lost in gain; 730 
 
 Bearing aw^ay the wound that nothing healeth. 
 The scar that will, despite of cure, remain; 
 Leaving his spoil perplex'd in greater pain. 
 
 She bears the load of lust he left behind, 
 
 And he the burthen of a guilty mind. 
 
 He like a thievish dog creeps sadly thence; 
 
 She like a wearied lamb lies panting there; 
 
 He scowls, and hates himself for his offence; 
 
 She, desperate, with her nails her flesh doth tear; 
 
 He faintly flies, sweating with guilty fear; 740 
 
 She stays, exclaiming on the direful night; 
 
 He runs, and chides his vanish'd, loathed delight. 
 
 He thence departs a heavy convertite; 
 
 She there remains a hopeless cast-away; 
 
 He in his speed looks for the morning light; 
 
 She prays she never may behold the day, 
 
 ' For day,' quoth she, ' night's scapes doth open lay 
 And my true eyes have never practised how 
 To cloak ofifences with a cunning brow. 
 
 119
 
 Verses 108-111 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' They think not but that every eye can see 750 
 
 The same disgrace which they themselves behold; 
 
 And therefore would they still in darkness be, 
 
 To have their unseen sin remain untold; 
 
 For they their guilt with weeping will unfold. 
 And grave, like water that doth eat in steel. 
 Upon my cheeks what helpless shame I feel.' 
 
 Here she exclaims against repose and rest. 
 
 And bids her eyes hereafter still be blind. 
 
 She wakes her heart by beating on her breast, 
 
 And bids it leap from thence, where it may find 760 
 
 Some purer chest to close so pure a mind. 
 
 Frantic with grief thus breathes she forth her spite 
 
 Against the unseen secrecy of night: 
 
 * O comfort-killing Night, image of hell! 
 
 Dim register and notary of shame! 
 
 Black stage for tragedies and murders fell! 
 
 Ysist sin-concealing chaos! nurse of blame! 
 
 Blind muffled bawd! dark harbour for defame! 
 Grim cave of death ! whispering conspirator 
 With close-tongued treason and the ravisher! 770 
 
 ' O hateful, vaporous and foggy Night! 
 Since thou art guilty of my cureless crime, 
 Muster thy mists to meet the eastern light, 
 Make war against proportion'd course of time; 
 Cr if thou wilt permit the sun to climb 
 
 His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed. 
 Knit poisonous clouds about his golden head. 
 
 120
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 112—115 
 
 ' With rotten damps ravish the morning air; 
 
 Let their exhaled unwholesome breaths make sick 
 
 The life of purity, the supreme fair, 780 
 
 Ere he arrive his weary noon-tide prick; 
 
 And let thy misty vapours march so thick 
 
 That in their smoky ranks his smother'd light 
 May set at noon and make perpetual night. 
 
 ' Were Tarquin Night, as he is but Night's child, 
 
 The silver-shining queen he would distain; 
 
 Her twinkling handmaids too, by him defiled, 
 
 Through Night's black bosom should not peep again: 
 
 So should I have co-partners in my pain; 
 
 And fellowship in woe doth woe assuage, 790 
 
 As palmers' chat makes short their pilgrimage. 
 
 ' Where now I have no one to blush with me. 
 
 To cross their arms and hang their heads with mine. 
 
 To mask their brows and hide their infamy; 
 
 But I alone alone must sit and pine, 
 
 Seasoning the earth with showers of silver brine, 
 
 Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with groans, 
 Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans. 
 
 ' O Night, thou furnace of foul-reeking smoke. 
 
 Let not the jealous Day behold that face 800 
 
 Which underneath thy black all-hiding cloak 
 
 Immodestly lies martyr'd with disgrace I 
 
 Keep still possession of thy gloomy place. 
 
 That all the faults which in thy reign are made 
 May likewise be sepulchred in thy shade! 
 
 121
 
 Verses 116-119 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' Make me not object to the tell-tale Day! 
 The light will show, character'd in my brow, 
 The story of sweet chastity's decay, 
 The impious breach of holy wedlock vow: 
 Yea, the illiterate, that know not how 8io 
 
 To cipher what is writ in learned books, 
 Will quote my loathsome trespass in my looks. 
 
 ' The nurse, to still her child, will tell my story. 
 
 And fright her crying babe with Tarquin's name; 
 
 The orator, to deck his oratory. 
 
 Will couple my reproach to Tarquin's shame; 
 
 Feast-finding minstrels, tuning my defame. 
 Will tie the hearers to attend each line. 
 How Tarquin wronged me, I Collatine. 
 
 ' Let my good name, that senseless reputation, 820 
 
 For CoUatine's dear love be kept unspotted: 
 If that be made a theme for disputation, 
 The branches of another root are rotted, 
 And undeserved reproach to him allotted 
 
 That is as clear from this attaint of mine 
 
 As I, ere this, was pure to Collatine. 
 
 'O unseen shame! invisible disgrace! 
 
 O unfelt sore! crest-wounding, private scar! 
 
 Reproach is stamp'd in Collatinus' face. 
 
 And Tarquin's eye may read the mot afar, 830 
 
 How he in peace is wounded, not in war. 
 
 Alas, how many bear such shameful blows, 
 
 Which not themselves, but he that gives them knows ! 
 
 122
 
 THE RAPE or LUCRECE Verses 120—123 
 
 ' If, Collatine, thine honour lay in me, 
 
 From me by strong assault it is bereft. 
 
 My honey lost, and I, a drone-like bee, 
 
 Have no perfection of my summer left. 
 
 But robb'd and ransack'd by injurious theft: 
 
 In thy weak hive a wandering wasp hath crept. 
 And suck'd the honey which thy chaste bee kept. 
 
 ' Yet am I guilty of thy honour's wrack; 841 
 
 Yet for thy honour did I entortain him; 
 Coming from thee, I could not put him back, 
 For it had been dishonour to disdain him: 
 Besides, of weariness he did complain him, 
 And talk'd of virtue: O unlook'd-for evil, 
 When virtue is profaned in such a devil! 
 
 ' Why should the worm intrude the maiden bud? 
 
 Or hateful cuckoos hatch in sparrows' nests? 
 
 Or toads infect fair founts with venom mud? 850 
 
 Or tyrant folly lurk in gentle breasts? 
 
 Or kings be breakers of their own behests? 
 But no perfection is so absolute 
 That some impurity doth not pollute. 
 
 ' The aged man that cofifers up his gold 
 
 Is plagued with cramps and gouts and painful fits, 
 
 And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold, 
 
 But like still-pining Tantalus he sits 
 
 And useless barns the harvest of his wits. 
 
 Having no other pleasure of his gain 860 
 
 But torment that it cannot cure his pain. 
 
 123
 
 Verses 124-127 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' So then he hath it when he cannot use it, 
 And leaves it to be master'd by his young; 
 Who in their pride do presently abuse it: 
 Their father was too weak, and they too strong, 
 To hold their cursed-blessed fortune long. 
 
 The sweets we wish for turn to loathed sours 
 Even in the moment that we call them ours. 
 
 * Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring; 
 Unwholesome w^eeds take root with precious flowers ; 
 The adder hisses where the sweet birds sing; 871 
 
 What virtue breeds iniquity devours: 
 We have no good that we can say is ours 
 
 But ill-annexed Opportunity 
 
 Or kills his life or else his quality. 
 
 * O Opportunity, thy guilt is great ! 
 
 'Tis thou that executest the traitor's treason; 
 
 Thou set'st the wolf where he the lamb may get; 
 
 Whoever plots the sin, thou point'st the season; 
 
 'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at law, at reason; 880 
 And in thy shady cell, where none may spy him, 
 Sits Sin, to seize the souls that wander by him. 
 
 * Thou makest the vestal violate her oath; 
 
 Thou blow^'st the fire when temperance is thaw'd; 
 
 Thou smother'st honesty, thou murder'st troth; 
 
 Thou foul abettor! thou notorious bawd! 
 
 Thou plantest scandal and displacest laud: 
 
 Thou ravisher, thou traitor, thou false thief, 
 Thy honey turns to gall, thy joy to grief! 
 
 124
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 128—131 
 
 ' Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame, 890 
 
 Thy private feasting to a pubHc fast, 
 
 Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name. 
 
 Thy sugar'd tongue to bitter wormwood taste: 
 
 Thy violent vanities can never last. 
 
 How comes it then, vile Opportunity, 
 Being so bad, such numbers seek for thee? 
 
 ' When wilt thou be the humble suppliant's friend, 
 And bring him where his suit may be obtained? 
 When wilt thou sort an hour great strifes to end? 
 Or free that soul which wretchedness hath chained? 900 
 Give physic to the sick, ease to the pained? 
 
 The poor, lame, blind, halt, creep, cry out for thee; 
 
 But they ne'er meet with Opportunity. 
 
 ' The patient dies while the physician sleeps ; 
 
 The orphan pines while the oppressor feeds; 
 
 Justice is feasting while the widow weeps; . 
 
 Advice is sporting while infection breeds: 
 
 Thou grant'st no time for charitable deeds: 
 
 Wrath, envy, treason, rape, and murder's rages. 
 Thy heinous hours wait on them as their pages. 910 
 
 ' When Truth and Virtue have to do with thee, 911 
 
 A thousand crosses keep them from thy aid: 
 They buy thy help, but Sin ne'er gives a fee; 
 He gratis comes, and thou art well appaid 
 As well to hear as grant what he hath said. 
 
 My Collatine would else have come to me 
 When Tarquin did, but he was stay'd by thee. 
 
 125
 
 Verses 132-135 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' Guilty thou art of murder and of theft, 
 
 Guilty of perjury and subornation, 
 
 Guilty of treason, forgery and shift, 920 
 
 Guilty of incest, that abomination; 
 
 An accessary by thine inclination 
 
 To all sins past and all that are to come. 
 From the creation to the general doom. 
 
 ' Mis-shapen Time, copesmate of ugly Night, 
 
 Swift subtle post, carrier of grisly care. 
 
 Eater of youth, false slave to false delight. 
 
 Base watch of woes, sin's pack-horse, virtue's snare; 
 
 Thou nursest all and murder'st all that are: 
 
 O, hear me then, injurious, shifting Time! 930 
 
 Be guilty of my death, since of my crime. 
 
 ' Why hath thy servant Opportunity 
 Betray'd the hours thou gavest me to repose, 
 Cancell'd my fortunes and enchained me 
 To endless date of never-ending woes? 
 Time's ofifice is to fine the hate of foes, 
 To eat up errors by opinion bred. 
 Not spend the dowry of a lawful bed. 
 
 ' Time's glory is to calm contending kings, 
 
 To unmask falsehood and bring truth to light, 940 
 
 To stamp the seal of time in aged things. 
 
 To wake the morn and sentinel the night. 
 
 To wrong the wronger till he render right. 
 
 To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours 
 
 And smear with dust their glittering golden towers; 
 
 126
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 136—139 
 
 ' To fill with worm-holes stately monuments, 
 To feed oblivion with decay of things, 
 To blot old books and alter their contents, 
 To pluck the quills from ancient raven's wings, 
 To dry the old oak's sap and cherish springs, 950 
 
 To spoil antiquities oi hammer'd steel 
 And turn the giddy round of Fortune's wheel; 
 
 ' To show the beldam daughters of her daughter, 
 
 To make the child a man, the man a child. 
 
 To slay the tiger that doth live by slaughter, 
 
 To tame the unicorn and lion wild, 
 
 To mock the subtle in themselves beguiled, 
 
 To cheer the ploughman with increaseful crops, 
 \nd waste huge stones with little water-drops. 
 
 ' Why work'st thou mischief in thy pilgrimage, 960 
 
 Unless thou couldst return to make amends? 
 
 One poor retiring minute in an age 
 
 Would purchase thee a thousand thousand friends, ' 
 
 Lending him wit that to bad debtors lends: 
 
 O, this dread night, wouldst thou one hour come back, 
 I could prevent this storm and shun thy wrack! 
 
 ' Thou ceaseless lackey to eternity. 
 
 With some mischance cross Tarquin in his flight: 
 
 Devise extremes beyond extremity. 
 
 To make him curse this cursed crimeful night: 970 
 
 Let ghastly shadows his lewd eyes affright. 
 
 And the dire thought of his committed evil 
 Shape every bush a hideous shapeless devil. 
 
 127
 
 Verses 140—143 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' Disturb his hours of rest with restless trances, 
 Afflict him in his bed with bedrid groans; 
 Let there bechance him pitiful mischances, 
 To make him moan; but pity not his moans: 
 Stone him with harden'd hearts, harder than stones; 
 And let mild women to him lose their mildness, 
 Wilder to him than tigers in their wildness. 980 
 
 * Let him have time to tear his curled hair, 
 Let him have time against himself to rave. 
 Let him have time of time's help to despair, 
 Let him have time to live a loathed slave. 
 Let him have time a beggar's orts to crave, 
 And time to see one that by alms doth live 
 Disdain to him disdained scraps to give. 
 
 ' Let him have time to see his friends his foes, 
 
 And merry fools to mock at him resort; 
 
 Let him have time to mark how slow time goes 990 
 
 In time of sorrow, and how swift and short 
 
 His time of folly and his time of sport; 
 And ever let his unrecalling crime 
 Have time to wail the abusing of his time. 
 
 ' O Time, thou tutor both to good and bad, 
 
 Teach me to curse him that thou taught'st this ill! 
 
 At his own shadow let the thief run mad. 
 
 Himself himself seek every hour to kill! 
 
 Such wretched hands such wretched blood should spill; 
 For who so base would such an office have 1000 
 As slanderous deathsman to so base a slave? 
 
 128
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 144—147 
 
 ' The baser is he, coming from a king, 
 To shame his hope with deeds degenerate: 
 The mightier man, the mightier is the thing 
 That makes him honour'd, or begets him hate ; 
 For greatest scandal waits on greatest state. 
 
 The moon being clouded presently is miss'd, 
 But little stars may hide them when they list. 
 
 * The crow may bathe his coal-black wings in mire, 
 And unperceived fly with the filth away; loio 
 
 But if the like the snow-white swan desire, 
 The stain upon his silver down will stay. 
 Poor grooms are sightless night, kings glorious day: 
 Gnats are unnoted wheresoe'er they fly. 
 But eagles gazed upon with every eye. 
 
 * Out, idle words, servants to shallow fools! 
 
 Unprofitable sounds, weak arbitrators! 
 
 Busy yourselves in skill-contending schools; 
 
 Debate where leisure serves with dull debaters; 
 
 To trembling clients be you mediators : 1020 
 
 For me, I force not argument a straw, 
 Since that my case is past the help of law. 
 
 * In vain I rail at Opportunity, 
 At Time, at Tarquin, and uncheerful Night; 
 In vain I cavil with mine infamy, 
 In vain I spurn at my confirmed despite: 
 This helpless smoke of words doth me no right. 
 The remedy indeed to do me good 
 Is to let forth my foul-defiled blood. 
 
 1 129
 
 Verses 148-151 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' Poor hand, why quiver'st thou at this decree? 1030 
 
 Honour thyself to rid me of this shame; 
 
 F'or if I die, my honour Hves in thee, 
 
 But if I live, thou livest in my defame : 
 
 Since thou couldst not defend thy loyal dame, 
 And wast afeard to stratch her wicked foe, 
 Kill both thyself and her for yielding so.' 
 
 This said, from her be-tumbled couch she starteth. 
 To find some desperate instrmnent of death: 
 But this no slaughterhouse no tool imparteth 
 To make more vent for passage of her breath; 1040 
 
 Which, thronging through her lips, so vanisheth 
 As smoke from ^tna that in air consumes. 
 Or that which from discharged cannon fumes. 
 
 * In vain,' quoth she, ' I live, and seek in vain 
 Some happy mean to end a hapless life. 
 I fear'd by Tarquin's falchion to be slain. 
 Yet for the self-same purpose seek a knife: 
 But when I fear'd I was a loyal wife: 
 
 So am I now: O no, that cannot be; 
 
 Of that true type hath Tarquin rifled me. 1050 
 
 ' O, that is gone for which I sought to live, 
 
 And therefore now I need not fear to die. 
 
 To clear this spot by death, at least I give 
 
 A badge of fame to slander's livery, 
 
 A dying life to living infamy: 
 
 Poor helpless help, the treasure stol'n away, 
 To burn the guiltless casket where it lay! 
 
 130
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 152—155 
 
 ' Well, well, dear Collatine, thou shalt not know 
 
 The stained taste of violated troth; 
 
 I will not wrong thy true affection so, 1060 
 
 To flatter thee with an infringed oath; 
 
 This bastard graff shall never come to growth: 
 He shall not boast who did thy stock pollute 
 That thou art doting father of his fruit. 
 
 * Nor shall he smile at thee in secret thought. 
 Nor laugh with his companions at thy state; 
 But thou shalt know thy interest was not bought 
 Basely with gold, biit stol'n from forth thy gate. 
 For me, I am the mistress of my fate, 
 
 And with my trespass never will dispense, 1070 
 Till life to death acquit my forced offence. 
 
 * I will not poison th'ee with my attaint. 
 Nor fold my fault in cleanly-coin'd excuses; 
 My' sable ground of sin I will not paint. 
 To hide the truth of this false night's abuses: 
 My tongue shall utter all; mine eyes, like sluices. 
 As from a mountain-spring that feeds a dale, 
 Shall gush pure streams to purge my impure tale. 
 
 By this, lamenting Philomel had ended 
 The well-tuned warble of her nightly sorrow, 1080 
 
 And solemn night with slow sad gait descended 
 To ugly hell; when, lo, the blushing morrow 
 Lends hght to all fair eyes that light will borrow: 
 But cloudy Lucrece shames herself to see, 
 And therefore still in night would cloister'd be. 
 
 131
 
 Verses 156-159 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 Revealing day through every cranny spies, 
 And seems to point her out where she sits weeping; 
 To whom she sobbing speaks: ' O eye of eyes, 
 Why pry'st thou through my window ? leave thy peeping : 
 Mock with thy tickling beams eyes that are sleeping: 
 Brand not my forehead with thy piercing light, 1091 
 For day hath nought to do what 's done by night. 
 
 Thus cavils 'she with every thing she sees: 
 True grief is fond and testy as a child, 
 Who wayward once, his mood with nought agrees: 
 Old woes, not infant sorrows, bear them mild; 
 Continuance tames the one; the other wild, 
 Like an unpractised swimmer plunging still 
 With too much labor drowns for want of skill. 
 
 So she, deep-drenched in a sea of care, iioo 
 
 Holds disputation with each thing she vievv^s, 
 And to herself all sorrow doth compare; 
 No object but her passion's strength renews. 
 And as one shifts, another straight ensues: 
 
 Sometime her grief is dumb and hath no words ; 
 
 Sometime 'tis mad and too much talk affords. 
 
 The little birds that tune their morning's joy 
 Make her moans mad with their sweet melody: 
 For mirth doth search the bottom of annoy; 
 Sad souls are slain in merry company; mo 
 
 Grief best is pleased with grief's society: 
 True sorrow then is feelingly sufficed 
 When with like semblance it is sympathized, 
 
 132
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 160-163 
 
 Tis double death to drown in ken of shore ; 
 He ten times pines that pines beholding food; 
 To see the salve doth make the wound ache more; 
 Great grief grieves most at that would do it good; 
 Deep woes roll forward like a gentle flood, 
 
 Who, being stopp'd, the bounding banks o'erflows; 
 
 Grief dallied with nor law nor Hmit knows. 1120 
 
 * You mocking birds,' quoth she, ' your tunes entomb 
 Within your hollow-swelling feather'd breasts, 
 
 And in my hearing be you mute and dumb: 
 My restless discord loves no stops nor rests; 
 A woeful hostess brooks not merry guests: 
 
 Relish your nimble notes to pleasing ears; 
 
 Distress likes dumps when time is kept with tears. 
 
 * Come, Philomel, that sing'st of ravishment, 
 Make thy sad grove in my dishevell'd hair: 
 
 As the dank earth weeps at thy languishment. 1130 
 
 So I at each sad strain will strain a tear, 
 
 And with deep groans the diapason bear; 
 
 For burden-wise I '11 hum on Tarquin still. 
 While thou on Tereus descant'st better skill. 
 
 ' And whiles against a thorn thou bear'st thy part, 
 To keep thy sharp woes waking, wretched I, 
 To imitate thee well, against my heart 
 Will fix a sharp knife, to affright mine eye; 
 Who, if it wink, shall thereon fall and die. 
 
 These means, as frets upon an instrument, 1140 
 
 Shall tune our heart-strings to true languishment. 
 
 133
 
 Verses 164-167 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' And for, poor bird, thou sing'st not in the day. 
 As shaming any eye should thee behold. 
 Some dark deep desert, seated from the way. 
 That knows not parching heat nor freezing cold. 
 Will we find out; and there we will unfold 
 
 To creatures stern sad tunes, to change their kinds 
 Since men prove beasts, let beasts bear gentle minds/ 
 
 As the poor frighted deer, that stands at gaze. 
 
 Wildly determining which way to ily, 1 1 50 
 
 Or one encompass'd with a winding maze, 
 
 That cannot tread the way out readily; 
 
 So with herself is she in mutiny, 
 
 To live or die, which of the twain were better. 
 When life is shamed and death reproach's debtor. 
 
 ' To kill myself,' quoth she, ' alack, what were it. 
 But with my body my poor soul's pollution? 
 They that lose half with greater patience bear it 
 Than they whose whole is swallow'd in confusion. 
 That mother tries a merciless conclusion 1 100 
 
 Who, having two sweet babes, when death takes one. 
 
 Will slav the other and be nurse to none. 
 
 * My body or my soul, which was the dearer. 
 When the one pure, the other made divine? 
 Whose love of either to myself was nearer. 
 When both were kept for heaven and Collatine? 
 Ay me! the bark peel'd from the lofty pine, 
 
 His leaves will wither and his sap decay; 
 
 So must my soul, her bark being peel'd away. 
 
 134
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 168-171 
 
 ' Her house is sack'd, her quiet interrupted, 1170 
 
 Her mansion batter'd by the enemy; 
 
 Her sacred temple spotted, spoil'd, corrupted, 
 
 Grossly engirt with daring infamy: 
 
 Then let it not be call'd impiety, 
 
 If in this blemish'd fort I make some hole 
 Through which I may convey this troubled soul. 
 
 * Yet die I will not till my Collatine 
 
 Have heard the cause of my untimely death; 
 
 That he may vow, in that sad hour of mine. 
 
 Revenge on him that made me stop my breath. 1180 
 
 My stained blood to Tarquin I '11 bequeath. 
 
 Which by him tainted shall for him be spent. 
 And as his due writ in mv testament. 
 
 ' My honour I '11 bequeath unto the knife 
 
 That wounds my body so dishonoured. 
 
 'Tis honour to deprive dishonour'd life; 
 
 The one will live, the other being dead: 
 
 So of shame's ashes shall my fame be bred; 
 
 For in my death I murder shameful scorn: 
 
 My shame so dead, mine honour is new-born. 1190 
 
 ' Dear lord of that dear jewel I have lost. 
 What legacy shall I bequeath to thee? 
 My resolution, love, shall be thy boast. 
 By whose example thou revenged mayst be. 
 How Tarquin must be used, read it in me: 
 Myself, thy friend, will kill myself, thy foe, 
 And, for my sake, serve thou false Tarquin so. 
 
 135
 
 Verses 172—175 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' This brief abridgement of my will I make: 
 My soul and body to the skies and ground; 
 My resolution, husband, do thou take; 1200 
 
 Mine honour be the knife's that makes my wound; 
 My shame be his that did my fame confound; 
 And all my fame that lives disbursed be 
 To those that live and think no shame of me. 
 
 'Thou, Collatine, shalt oversee this will; 
 
 How was I overseen that thou shalt see it! 
 
 My blood shall wash the slander of mine ill; 
 
 My life's foul deed, my life's fair end shall free it. 
 
 Faint not, faint heart, but stoutly say '* So be it " : 1209 
 Yield to my hand; my hand shall conquer thee: 
 Thou dead, both die and both shall victors be.' 
 
 This plot of death w^hen sadly she had laid, 
 And wiped the brinish pearl from her bright eyes, 
 With untuned tongue she hoarsely calls her maid, 
 Whose swift obedience to her mistress hies; 
 For f^eet-wing'd duty with thought's feathers flies. 
 Poor Lucrece' cheeks unto her maid seem so 
 As winter meads when sun doth melt their snow. 
 
 Her mistress she doth give demure good-morrow, 
 With soft slow tongue, true mark of modesty, 1220 
 
 And sorts a sad look to her lady's sorrow, 
 For why her face wore sorrow's livery, 
 But durst not ask of her audaciously 
 
 Why her two suns were cloud-eclipsed so. 
 
 Nor why her fair cheeks over-wash'd with woe. 
 
 136
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 176—179 
 
 But as the earth doth weep, the sun being set, 
 
 Each flower moisten'd Hke a mehing eye, 
 
 Even so the maid with swelling drops 'gan wet 
 
 Her circled eyne, enforced by sympathy 
 
 Of those fair suns set in her mistress' sky, 1230 
 
 Who in a salt-waved ocean quench their light, 
 Which makes the maid weep like the dewy night. 
 
 A pretty while these pretty creatures stand, 
 Like ivory conduits coral cisterns filling: 
 One justly weeps; the other takes in hand 
 No cause, but company, of her drops spilling: 
 Their gentle sex to weep are often willing. 
 
 Grieving themselves to guess at others' smarts, 
 And then thev drown their eves or break their hearts. 
 
 For men have marble, women waxen, minds, 1240 
 
 And therefore are they form'd as marble will; 
 The weak oppress'd, the impression of strange kinds 
 Is form'd in them by force, by fraud, or skill: 
 Then call them not the authors of their ill. 
 No more than wax shall be accounted evil 
 Wherein is stamp'd the semblance of a devil. 
 
 Their smoothness, like a goodly champaign plain. 
 Lays open all the little worms that creep; 
 In men, as in a rough-grown grove, remain 
 Cave-keeping evils that obscurely sleep: 1250 
 
 Through crystal walls each little mote. will peep: 
 
 Though men can cover crimes with bold stern looks, 
 Poor women's faces are their own faults' books. 
 
 137
 
 Verses 180—183 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 No man inveigh against the withered flower, 
 
 But chide rough winter that the flower hath kill'd: 
 
 Not that devour'd, but that which doth devour, 
 
 Is worthy blame. O, let it not be hild 
 
 Poor women's faults, that they are so fulfiU'd 
 
 With men's abuses: those proud lords to blame 
 Make weak-made women tenants to their shame. 
 
 The precedent whereof in Lucrece view, 1261 
 
 Assail'd by night with circumstances strong 
 Of present death, and shame that might ensue 
 By that her death, to do her husband wrong: 
 Such danger to resistance did belong, 
 
 Thai dying fear through all her body spread; 
 
 And who cannot abuse a body dead? 
 
 By this, mild patience bid fair Lucrece speak 
 
 To the poor counterfeit of her complaining: 
 
 ' My girl/ quoth she, ' on what occasion break 1270 
 
 Those tears from thee, that down thy cheeks are raining? 
 
 If thou dost weep for grief of my sustaining. 
 
 Know, gentle wench, it small avails my mood: 
 If tears could help, mine own would do me good. 
 
 ' But tell me, girl, when went ' — and there she stay'd 
 
 Till after a deep groan — ' Tarquin from hence?' 
 
 * Madam, ere I was up,' replied the maid, 
 
 ' The more to blame my sluggard negligence : • 
 
 Yet with the fault I thus far can dispense ; 
 
 Myself was stirring ere the break of day, 1280 
 
 And ere I rose was Tarquin gone away. 
 
 138
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 184—187 
 
 ' But, lady, if your maid may be so bold, 
 
 She would request to know your heaviness.' 
 
 ' O, peace!' quoth Lucrece: Mf it should be told, 
 
 The repetition cannot make it less. 
 
 For more it is than I can well express: 
 
 And that deep torture may be called a hell 
 When more is felt than one hath power to tell. 
 
 ' Go, get me hither paper, ink and pen: 
 
 Yet save that labour, for I have them here. 1290 
 
 What should I say? One of my husband's men 
 
 Bid thou be ready by and by to bear 
 
 A letter to my lord, my love, my dear: 
 
 Bid him with speed prepare to carry it; 
 
 The cause craves haste and it will soon be writ.' 
 
 Her maid is gone, and she prepares to write. 
 First hovering o'er the paper with her quill: 
 Conceit and grief an eager combat fight; 
 What wit sets down is blotted straight with will; 
 This is too curious-good, this blunt and ill: 1300 
 
 Much like a press of people at a door, 
 Throng her inventions, which shall go before. 
 
 At last she thus begins: ' Thou worthy lord 
 Of that unworthy wife that greeteth thee, 
 Health to thy person! next vouchsafe t' afford — 
 If ever, love, thy Lucrece thou wilt see — 
 Some present speed to come and visit me. 
 
 So, I commend me from our house in grief: 
 My woes are tedious, though my words are brief.' 
 
 139
 
 Verses 188-191 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 Here folds she up the tenour of her woe, 1310 
 
 Her certain sorrow writ uncertainly. 
 
 By this short schedule Collatine may know 
 
 Her grief, but not her grief's true quality: 
 
 She dares not thereof make discovery, 
 
 Lest he should hold it her own gross abuse, 
 
 Ere she with blood had stain'd her stain'd excuse. 
 
 Besides, the life and feeling of her passion 
 She hoards, to spend when he is by to hear her, 
 When sighs and groans and tears may grace the fashion 
 Of her disgrace, the better so to clear her 1320 
 
 From that suspicion which the world might bear her. 
 To shun this blot, she would not blot the letter 
 With words, till action might become them better. 
 
 To see sad sights moves more than hear them told ; 
 
 For then the eye interprets to the ear 
 
 The heavy motion that it doth behold. 
 
 When every part a part of woe doth bear. 
 
 'Tis but a part of sorrow that w-t hear: 
 
 Deep sounds make lesser noise than shallow fords, 
 And sorrow ebbs, being blown with wind of words. 
 
 Her letter now is seal'd and on it writ 1331 
 
 ' At Ardea to my lord with more than haste.' 
 The post attends, and she delivers it, 
 Charging the sour-faced groom to hie as fast 
 As lagging fowls before the northern blast: 
 
 Speed more than speed but dull and slow she deems: 
 Extremity still urgeth such extremes. 
 
 140
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 192-195 
 
 The homely villain court'sies to her low, 
 
 And blushing on her, with a steadfast eye 
 
 Receives the scroll without or yea or no, 1340 
 
 And forth with bashful innocence doth hie. 
 
 But they whose guilt within their bosoms lie 
 
 Imagine every eye beholds their blame ; 
 
 For Lucrece thought he blush'd to see her shame : 
 
 When, silly groom! God wot, it was defect 
 
 Of spirit, life and bold audacity. 
 
 Such harmless creatures have a trife respect 
 
 To talk in deeds, while others saucily 
 
 Promise more speed but do it leisurely: 
 
 Even so this pattern of the worn-out age 1350 
 Pawn'd honest looks, but laid no words to gage. 
 
 His kindled duty kindled her mistrust, 
 That two red fires in both their faces blazed; 
 She thought he blush'd, as knowing Tarquin's lust. 
 And blushing with him, wistly on him gazed; 
 Her earnest eye did make him more amazed: 
 
 The more she saw the blood his cheeks replenish, 
 The more she thought he spied in her some blemish. 
 
 But long she thinks till he return again, 
 
 And yet the duteous vassal scarce is gone. 1360 
 
 The weary time she cannot entertain. 
 
 For now 'tis stale to sigh, to weep and groan: 
 
 So woe hath wearied woe, moan tired moan. 
 
 That she her plaints a little while doth stay, 
 Pausing for means to mourn some newer way. 
 141
 
 Verses 196—199 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 At last she calls to mind where hangs a piece 
 
 Of skilful painting, made for Priam's Troy; 
 
 Before the which is drawn the power of Greece, 
 
 For Helen's rape the city to destroy, 
 
 Threatening cloud-kissing Ilion with annoy; 1370 
 
 Which the conceited painter drew so proud. 
 As heaven, it seem'd, to kiss the turrets bow'd. 
 
 A thousand lamentable objects there. 
 In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life: 
 Many a dry drop seem'd a weeping tear, 
 Shed for the slaughter'd husband by the wife: 
 The red blood reek'd, to show the painter's strife; 
 And dying eyes gleam'd forth their ashy lights, 
 Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights. 
 
 There might you see the labouring pioner 1380 
 
 Begrimed with sweat and smeared all with dust; 
 And from the towers of Troy there would appear 
 The very eyes of men through loop-holes thrust 
 Gazing upon the Greeks with little lust : 
 
 Such sweet observance in this work was had 
 That one might see those far-off eyes look sad. 
 
 In great commanders grace and majesty 
 You might behold, triumphing in their faces. 
 In youth, quick bearing and dexterity ; 
 And here and there the painter interlaces 1390 
 
 Pale cowards, marching on with trembling paces; 
 Which heartless peasants did so well resemble 
 That one would swear he saw them quake and tremble. 
 
 142
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 200—203 
 
 In Ajax and Ulysses, O, what art 
 
 Of physiognomy might one behold! ^ 
 
 The face of either cipher'd either's heart ; 
 
 Their face their manners most expressly told: 
 
 In Ajax' eyes blunt rage and rigour roll'd ; 
 
 But the mild glance that sly Ulysses lent 
 
 Show'd deep regard and smiling government. * 1400 
 
 There pleading might you see grave Nestor stand, 
 As 'twere encouraging the Greeks to fight, 
 Making such sober action with his hand 
 That it beguiled attention, charm'd the sight: 
 In speech, it seem'd, his beard all silver white 
 
 Wagg'd up and down, and from his lips did fly 
 Thin winding breath which purl'd tip to the sky. 
 
 About him were a press of gaping faces. 
 Which seem'd to swallow up his sound advice; 
 All jointly listening, but with several graces, 1410 
 
 As if some mermaid did their ears entice, 
 Some high, some low% the painter was so nice; 
 The scalps of many, almost hid behind, 
 To jump up higher seem'd, to mock the mind. 
 
 Here one man's hand lean'd on another's head. 
 
 His nose being shadow'd by his neighbour's ear ; 
 
 Here one being throng'd bears back, all boll'n and red; 
 
 Another smother'd seems to pelt and swear; 
 
 And in their rage such signs of rage they bear 
 
 As, but for loss of Nestor's golden words, 1420 
 It seem'd they would debate with angry swords. 
 
 143
 
 Verses 204—207 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 For much imaginary work was there; 
 Conceit deceitful, so compact, so kind, 
 That for Achilles' image stood his spear 
 Griped in an armed hand; himself behind 
 Was left unseen, save to the eye of mind: 
 
 A^ hand, a foot, a face, a leg, a head, 
 
 Stood for the whole to be imagined. 
 
 And from the walls of strong-besieged Troy 
 When their brave hope, bold Hector, march'd to field, 
 Stood many Trojan mothers sharing joy 1431 
 
 To see their youthful sons bright weapons wield; 
 And to their hope they such odd action yield 
 
 That through their light joy seemed to appear, 
 Like bright things stain'd, a kind of heavy fear. 
 
 And from the strand of Dardan, where they fought, 
 To Simois' reedy banks the red blood ran, 
 Whose waves to imitate the battle sought 
 With swelling ridges ; and their ranks began 
 To break upon the galled shore, and than 1440 
 
 Retire again, till meeting greater ranks 
 They join and shoot their foam at Simois' banks. 
 
 To this well-painted piece is Lucrece come. 
 To find a face where all distress is stell'd. 
 Many she sees where cares have carved some. 
 But none where all distress and dolour dwell'd. 
 Till she despairing Hecuba beheld, 
 
 Staring on Priam's wounds with her old eyes. 
 Which bleeding under Pvrrhus' proud foot lies. 
 
 144 
 
 i
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 208—211 
 
 In her the painter had anatomized 1450 
 
 Time's ruin, beauty's wreck, and grim care's reign: 
 Her cheeks with chaps and wrinkles were disguised; 
 Of what she was no semblance did remain: 
 Her blue blood changed to black in every vein, 
 
 Wanting the spring that those shrunk pipes had fed, 
 Show'd life imprison'd in a body dead. 
 
 On this sad shadow Lucrece spends her eyes, 
 
 And shapes her sorrow to the beldam's woes, 
 
 Who nothing wants to answer her but cries. 
 
 And bitter words to ban her cruel foes: 1460 
 
 The painter was no god to lend her those; 
 
 And therefore Lucrece swears he did her wrong. 
 
 To give her so much grief and not a tongue. 
 
 ' Poor instrument,' quoth she, ' without a sound, 
 I '11 tune thy woes with my lamenting tongue, 
 And drop sweet balm in Priam's painted wound. 
 And rail on Pyrrhus that hath done him wrong. 
 And with my tears quench Troy that burns so long. 
 And with my knife scratch out the angry eyes 
 Of all the Greeks that are thine enemies. ^470 
 
 ' Show me the strumpet that began this stir 
 
 That with my nails her beauty I may tear. 
 
 Thy heat of lust, fond Paris, did incur 
 
 This load of wrath that burning Troy doth bear: 
 
 Thy eye kindled the fire that burneth here; 
 
 And here in Troy, for trespass of thine eye. 
 The sire, the son, the dame and daughter die. 
 
 M5
 
 Verses 212-215 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' Why should the private pleasure of some one 
 
 Become the public plague of many moe? 
 
 Let sin, alone committed, light alone 1480 
 
 Upon his head that hath transgressed so ; 
 
 Let guiltless souls be freed from guilty woe : 
 
 For one's ofifence why should so many fall, 
 
 To plague a private sin in general? 
 
 ' Lo, here weeps Hecuba, here Priam dies, 
 Here manly Hector faints, here Troilus swounds, 
 Here friend by friend in bloody channel lies, 
 And friend to friend gives unadvised wounds. 
 And one man's lust these many lives confounds : 
 
 Had doting Priam check'd his son's desire, 1490 
 
 Troy had been bright with fame and not with fire.' 
 
 Here feelingly she weeps Troy's painted woes: 
 For sorrow, like a heavy-hanging bell 
 Once set on ringing, with his own weight goes; 
 Then little strength rings out the doleful knell : 
 So Lucrcce, set a-work, sad tales doth tell 
 
 To pencill'd pensiveness and colour'd sorrow; 
 
 Shelends them words, and she their looks doth borrow. 
 
 She throws her eyes about the painting round, 
 And who she finds forlorn she doth lament. 1 500 
 
 At last she sees a wretched image bound, 
 That piteous looks to Phrygian shepherds lent : 
 His face, though full of cares, yet show'd content ; 
 Onward to Troy with the blunt swains he goes. 
 So mild that Patience seem'd to scorn his woes. 
 
 146
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 216—219 
 
 in him the painter labour'd with his skill 
 To hide deceit and give the harmless show 
 An humble gait, calm looks, eyes waiUng still, 
 A brow unbent, that seem'd to welcome woe; 
 Cheeks neither red nor pale, but mingled so 1510 
 
 That blushing red no guiUy instance gave, 
 Nor ashy pale the fear that false hearts have. 
 
 But, like a constant and confirmed devil, 
 He entertain'd a show so seeming just, 
 And therein so ensconced his secret evil, 
 That jealousy itself could not mistrust 
 False-creeping craft and pur jury should thrust 
 
 Into so bright a day such black-faced storms, 
 Or blot with hell-born sin such saint-like forms. 
 
 The well-skill'd workman this mild image drew 1520 
 
 For perjured Sinon, whose enchanting story 
 
 The credulous old Priam after slew; 
 
 Whose words, like wildfire, burnt the shining glory 
 
 Of rich-built llion, that the skies were sorry. 
 
 And little stars shot from their, fixed places. 
 When their glass fell wherein they view'd their faces. 
 
 This picture she advisedly perused. 
 
 And chid the painter for his wondrous skill. 
 
 Saying, some shape in Sinon's was abused; 
 
 So fair a form lodged not a mind so ill: 1530 
 
 And still on him she gazed, and gazing still 
 
 Such signs of truth in his plain face she spied 
 That she concludes the picture v/as belied. 
 
 147
 
 Verses 220-223 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' It cannot be,' quoth she, ' that so much guile ' — 
 She would have said ' can lurk in such a look '; 
 But Tarquin's shape came in her mind the while, 
 And from her tongue ' can lurk ' from ' cannot ' took : 
 ' It cannot be ' she in that sense forsook, 
 And turn'd it thus, ' It cannot be, I find, 
 But such a face should bear a wicked mind: 1540 
 
 ' For even as subtle Sinon here is painted. 
 So sober-sad, so weary and so mild. 
 As if with grief or travail he had fainted. 
 To me came Tarquin armed: so beguiled 
 With outward honesty, but yet defiled 
 
 With inward vice: as Priam him did cherish, 
 So did I Tarquin; so my Troy did perish. 
 
 ' Look, look, how listening Priam wets his eyes, 
 
 To see those borrow'd tears that Sinon sheds! 
 
 Priam, why art thou old and yet not wise? 1550 
 
 For every tear he falls a Trojan bleeds: 
 
 His eye drops fire, no water thence proceeds; 
 
 Those round clear pearls of his that move thy pity 
 Are balls of quenchless fire to burn thy city. 
 
 ' Such devils steal effects from lightless hell; 
 
 For Sinon in his fire doth quake with cold. 
 
 And in that cold hot-burning fire doth dwell; 
 
 These contraries such unity do hold. 
 
 Only to flatter fools and make them bold: 
 
 So Priam's trust false Sinon's tears doth flatter, 1560 
 That he finds means to burn his Troy with water.' 
 148
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 224-227 
 
 Here, all enraged, such passion her assails. 
 That patience is quite beaten from her breast. 
 She tears the senseless Sinon with her nails. 
 Comparing him to that unhappy guest 
 Whose deed hath made herself herself detest: 
 
 At last she smilingly with this gives o'er; 
 
 ' Fool, fool ! ' quoth she, ' his wounds will not be sore.' 
 
 Thus ebbs and flows the current of her sorrow, 
 And time doth weary time with her complaining. 1570 
 She looks for night, and then she longs for morrow, 
 And both she thinks too long with her remaining : 
 Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining: 
 Though woe be heavy, yet it seldom sleeps, 
 And they that watch see time how slow it creeps. 
 
 Which all this time hath overslipp'd her thought. 
 
 That she with painted images hath spent; 
 
 Being from the feeling of her own grief brought 
 
 By deep surmise of others' detriment, 
 
 Losing her woes in shows of discontent. 1580 
 
 It easeth some, though none it ever cured. 
 To think their dolour others have endured. 
 
 But now the mindful messenger come back 
 Parings home his lord and other company; 
 Who finds his Lucrece clad in mourning black : 
 And round about her tear-distained eye 
 Blue circles stream'd, like rainbows in the sky: 
 These water-galls in her dim element 
 Foretell new storms to those already spent. 
 
 149
 
 Verses 228-231 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 Which when her sad-beholding husband saw, 1590 
 
 Amazedly in her sad face he stares: 
 
 Her eyes, though sod in tears, look'd red and raw, 
 
 Her hvely colour kill'd with deadly cares. 
 
 He hath no power to ask her how she fares : 
 
 Both stood, like old acquaintance in a trance. 
 Met far from home, wondering each other's chance. 
 
 At last he takes her by the bloodless hand. 
 
 And thus begins : 'What uncouth ill event 
 
 Hath thee befall'n, that thou dost trembling stand? 
 
 Sweet love, what spite hath thy fair colour spent? 1600 
 
 Why art thou thus attired in discontent ? 
 
 Unmask, dear dear, this moody heaviness, 
 And tell thy grief, that we may give redress.' 
 
 Three times with sighs she gives her sorrow fire, 
 
 Ere once she can discharge one word of woe: 
 
 At length address'd to answer his desire. 
 
 She modestly prepares to let them know 
 
 Her honour is ta'en prisoner by the foe ; 
 
 While Collatine and his consorted lords 
 
 With sad attention long to hear her words. 1610 
 
 And now this pale swan in her watery nest 
 Begins the sad dirge of her certain ending: 
 * Few words,' quoth she, ' shall fit the trespass best. 
 Where no excuse can give the fault amending : 
 In me moe woes than words are now depending ; 
 And my laments would be drawn out too long. 
 To tell them all with one poor tired tongue. 
 
 150
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 232—235 
 
 ' Then be this all the task it hath to say: 
 
 Dear husband, in the interest of thy bed 
 
 A stranger came, and on that pillow lay 1620 
 
 Where thou wast wont to rest thy weary head ; 
 
 And what wrong else may be imagined 
 
 By foul enforcement might be done to me, 
 From that, alas, thy Lucrece is not free. 
 
 ' For in the dreadful dead of dark midnight. 
 With shining falchion in my chamber came 
 A creeping creature, with a flaming light, 
 And softly cried, "x\wake, thou Roman dame, 
 And entertain my love; else lasting shame 
 
 On thee and thine this night I will inflict, 1630 
 
 If thou my love's desire do contradict. 
 
 For some hard-favour'd groom of thine," quoth he, 
 " Unless thou yoke thy liking to my v/ill, 
 I '11 murder straight, and then I '11 slaughter thee. 
 And swear I found you where you did fulfil 
 The loathsome act of lust, and so did kill 
 The lechers in their deed : this act will be 
 My fame, and thy perpetual infamy." 
 
 ' With this, I did begin to start and cry; 
 
 And then against my heart he set his sword, 1640 
 
 Swearing, unless I took all patiently, 
 
 I should not live to speak another word; 
 
 So should my shame still rest upon record, 
 And never be forgot in mighty Rome 
 The adulterate death of Lucrece and her groom. 
 
 151
 
 Verses 236-239 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' Mine enemy was strong, my poor self weak, 
 
 And far the weaker with so strong a fear : 
 
 My bloody judge forbade my tongue to speak; 
 
 No rightful plea might plead for justice there: 
 
 His scarlet lust came evidence to swear 1650 
 
 That my poor beauty had purloin'd his eyes; 
 
 And when the judge is robb'd, the prisoner dies. 
 
 ' O, teach me how to make mine own excuse! 
 
 Or, at the least, this refuge let me find ; 
 
 Though my gross blood be stain'd with this abuse, 
 
 Immaculate and spotless is my mind; 
 
 That was not forced; that never was inclined 
 To accessary yieldings, but still pure 
 Doth in her poison'd closet yet endure.' 
 
 Lo, here, the hopeless merchant of this loss, 1660 
 
 With head declined, and voice damm'd up with woe, 
 With sad-set eyes and wretched arms across, 
 From lips new-waxen pale begins to blow 
 The grief away that stops his answer so: 
 
 But, wretched as he is, he strives in vain; 
 
 What he breathes out his breath drinks up again. 
 
 As through an arch the violent roaring tide 
 
 Outruns the eye that doth behold his haste. 
 
 Yet in the eddy boundeth in his pride 
 
 Back to the strait that forced him on so fast, 1670 
 
 In rage sent out, recall'd in rage, being past : 
 
 Even so his sighs, his sorrows, make a saw, 
 To push grief on and back the same grief draw, 
 
 152
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 240—243 
 
 Which speechless woe of his poor she attendeth 
 And his untimely frenzy thus awaketh : 
 ' Dear lord, thy sorrow to my sorrow lendeth 
 Another power ; no flood by raining slaketh. 
 My woe too sensible thy passion maketh 
 More feeling-painful: let it then suffice 
 To drown one woe, one pair of weeping eyes. 1680 
 
 'And for my sake, when I might charm thee so, 
 
 For she that was thy Lucrece, now attend me: 
 
 Be suddenly revenged on my foe. 
 
 Thine, mine, his own: suppose thou dost defend me 
 
 From what is past: the help that thou shalt lend me 
 
 Comes all too late, yet let the traitor die; 
 
 For sparing justice feeds iniquity. 
 
 ' But ere I name him, you fair lords,' quoth she, 
 
 Speaking to those that came with Collatine, 
 
 ' Shall plight your honourable faiths to me, 1690 
 
 With swift pursuit to venge this wrong of mine; 
 
 For 'tis a meritorious fair design 
 
 To chase injustice with revengeful arms: 
 Knights, by their oaths, should right poor ladies' 
 harms.' 
 
 At this request, with noble disposition 
 Each present lord began to promise aid, 
 As bound in knighthood to her imposition. 
 Longing to hear the hateful foe bewray'd. 
 Cut she, that yet her sad task hath not said, 
 
 The protestation stops. ' O, speak,' quoth she, 1700 
 
 ' How may this forced stain be wiped from me? 
 
 « 
 
 153
 
 Verses 244—247 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 * What is the quaUty of my offence, 
 
 Being constrain'd with dreadful circumstance? 
 
 May my pure mind with the foul act dispense, 
 
 My low-declined honour to advance? 
 
 May any terms acquit me from this chance? 
 
 The poison'd fountain clears itself again; 
 
 And why not I from this compelled stain ? ' 
 
 With this, they all at once began to say. 
 
 Her body's stain her mind untainted clears; 1710 
 
 W^hile with a joyless smile she turns away 
 
 The face, that map which deep impression bears 
 
 Of hard misfortune, carved in it with tears. 
 
 ' No, no,' quoth she, ' no dame hereafter living 
 By my excuse shall claim excuse's giving.' 
 
 Here with a sigh, as if her heart would break, 
 She throws forth Tarquin's name: ' He, he,' she says, 
 But more than ' he ' her poor tongue could not speak; 
 Till after many accents and delays. 
 
 Untimely breathings, sick and short assays, 1720 
 
 She utters this: ' He, he, fair lords, 'tis he, 
 That guides this hand to give this wound to me.' 
 
 Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast 
 A harmful knife, that thence her soul unsheathed: 
 That blow did bail it from the deep unrest 
 Of that polluted prison where it breathed: 
 Her contrite sighs unto the clouds bequeathed 
 
 Her winged sprite, and through her wounds doth fly 
 Life's lasting date from cancell'd destiny. 
 
 154
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCREC Verses 248-251 
 
 Stone-still, astonisii'd with this deadly deed, I730 
 
 Stood Collatine and all his lordly crew; 
 
 Till Lucrece' father, that beholds her bleed, 
 
 Himself on her self-slaughter'd body threw; 
 
 And from the purple fountain Brutus drew 
 
 The murderous knife, and, as it left the place, 
 Her blood, in poor revenge, held it in chase; 
 
 And bubbling from her breast, it doth divide 
 
 In two slow rivers, that the crimson blood 
 
 Circles her body in on every side, 
 
 Who, like a late-sack'd island, vastly stood 1740 
 
 Bare and unpeopled in this fearful flood. 
 
 Some of her blood still pure and red remain'd, 
 And some look'd black, and that false Tarquin stain'd. 
 
 About the mourning and congealed face 
 Of that black blood a w^atery rigol goes. 
 Which seems to weep upon the tainted place : 
 And ever since, as pitying Lucrece' woes, 
 Corrupted blood some w^atery token show^s; 
 And blood untainted still doth red abide, 
 Blushing at that which is so putrefied. 1750 
 
 * Daughter, dear daughter,' old Lucretius cries, 
 ' That life was mine which thou hast here deprived. 
 If in the child the father's image lies. 
 Where shall I live now Lucrece is unlived?. 
 Thou wast not to this end from me derived. 
 If children pre-decease progenitors, 
 We are their offspring, and they none of ours.
 
 Verses 252-255 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 ' Poor broken glass, I often did behold 
 [n thy sweet semblance my old age new born; 
 But now that fair fresh mirror, dim and old, 1760 
 
 Shows me a bare-boned death by time outworn: 
 O, from thy cheeks my image thou hast torn, 
 And shiver'd all the beauty of my glass. 
 That I no more can see what once I was. 
 
 ' O time, cease thou thy course and last no longer, 
 
 If they surcease to be that should survive. 
 
 Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger, 
 
 And leave the faltering feeble souls alive? 
 
 The old bees die, the young- possess their hive: 
 
 Then live, sweet Lucrece, Hve again, and see 1770 
 Thy father die, and not thy father thee! ' 
 
 By this, starts CoUatine as from a dream, 
 And bids Lucretius give his sorrow place ; 
 And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream 
 He falls, and bathes the pale fear in his face. 
 And counterfeits to die with her a space; 
 
 Till manly shame bids him possess his breath. 
 
 And live to be revenged on her death. 
 
 The deep vexation of his inw^ard soul 
 
 Hath served a dumb arrest upon his tongue; 1780 
 
 Who, mad that sorrow should his use control 
 
 Or keep him from heart-easing words so long, 
 
 Begins to talk; but through his lips do throng 
 
 Weak words, so thick come in his poor heart's aid 
 That no man could distinguish w^hat he said. 
 
 156
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 256-259 
 
 Yet sometime ' Tarquin ' was pronounced plain, 
 But through his teeth, as if the name he tore. 
 This windy tempest, till it blow up rain, 
 Held back his sorrow's tide, to make it more; 
 At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er: 1790 
 
 Then son and father weep with equal strife 
 Who should weep most, for daughter or for wife. 
 
 The one doth call her hrs, the other his, 
 Yet neither may possess the claim they lay. 
 The father says ' She 's mine.' ' O, mine she is/ 
 Replies her husband: ' do not take away 
 My sorrow's interest; let no mourner say 
 
 He weeps for her, for she was only mine, 
 And only must be wail'd by Collatine/ 
 
 ' O,' quoth Lucretius, ' I did give that Hfe 1800 
 
 Which she too early and too late hath spiH'd.' 
 ' Woe, woe,' quoth Collatine, ' she was my wife; 
 I owed her, and 'tis mine that she hath kill'd.' 
 ' My daughter ' and ' my wife ' with clamours fill'd 
 The dispersed air, who, holding Lucrece' life, 
 Answer'd their cries, ' my daughter ' and ' my wife.' 
 
 Brutus, who pluck'd the knife from Lucrece' side, 
 Seeing such emulation in their woe, 
 Began to clothe his wit in state and pride. 
 Burying in Lucrece' wound his folly's show. 1810 
 
 He with the Romans was esteemed so 
 As silly-jeering idiots are with kings, 
 For sportive words and uttering foolish things: 
 
 157
 
 Verses 260-263 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE 
 
 Lut now he throws that shallow habit by 
 
 Wherein deep policy did him disguise, 
 
 And arm'd his long-hid wits advisedly 
 
 To check the tears in CoUatiniis' eyes. 
 
 ' Thou wronged lord of Rome,' quoth he, ' arise: 
 Let my unsounded self, supposed a fool, 
 Now set thy long-experienced wit to school. 1820 
 
 ' Why, Collatine, is woe the cure for woe? 
 
 Do wounds help wounds, or grief help grievous deeds? 
 
 Is it revenge to give thyself a blow 
 
 For his foul act by whom thy fair wife bleeds? 
 
 Such childish humour from weak minds proceeds: 
 Thy wretched wife mistook the matter so. 
 To slay herself, that should have slain her foe. 
 
 ' Courageous Roman, do not steep thy heart 
 
 In such relenting- dew of lamentations, 
 
 But kneel with me and help to bear thy part 1830 
 
 To rouse our Roman gods with invocations 
 
 That they will sufifer these abominations, 
 
 Since Rome herself in them doth stand disgraced, 
 By our strong arms from forth her fair streets chased. 
 
 ' Now, by the Capitol that we adore. 
 
 And by this chaste blood so unjustly stained. 
 
 By heaven's fair sun that breeds the fat earth's store. 
 
 By all our country rights in Rome maintained. 
 
 And by chaste Lucrece' soul that late complained 
 
 Her wrongs to us, and by this bloody knife, 1840 
 We will revenge the death of this true wife! ' 
 
 158
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE Verses 264—265 
 
 This said, he struck his hand upon his breast, 
 And kiss'd the fatal knife, to end his vow, 
 And to his protestation urged the rest. 
 Who, wondering at him, did his words allow: 
 Then jointly to the ground their knees they bow; 
 
 And that deep vow, which Brutus made before. 
 He doth again repeat, and that they swore. 
 
 When they had sworn to this advised doom. 
 
 They did conclude to bear dead Lucrece thence, ♦ 1850 
 
 To show her bleeding body thorough Rome, 
 
 And so to publish Tarquin's foul offence: 
 
 Which being done with speedy diligence. 
 
 The Romans plausibly did give consent 
 
 To Tarquin's everlasting banishment. 
 
 159
 
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT,
 
 A Lover's Complaint. 
 
 Fro^[ off a hill whose concave womb re-worded 
 A plaintful story from a sistering vale, 
 My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, 
 And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale; 
 Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, 
 Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain. 
 Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain. 
 
 Upon her head a platted hive of straw, 
 
 Which fortified her visage from the sun. 
 
 Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw lo 
 
 The carcass of a beauty spent and done: 
 
 Time had not scythed all that youth begun, 
 
 Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage, 
 
 Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age. 
 
 Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, 
 
 Which on it had conceited characters. 
 
 Laundering the silken figures in the brine 
 
 That season'd woe had pelleted in tears, 
 
 And often reading what contents it bears; 
 
 As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe, 20 
 
 In clamours of all size, both high and low. 
 
 163
 
 Verses 4-7 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 
 
 Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride, 
 As they did battery to the spheres intend; 
 Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied 
 To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend 
 Their view right on; anon their gazes lend 
 To every place at once, and nowhere fix'd 
 The mind and sight distractedly commix'd. 
 
 Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, 
 
 Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride; 30 
 
 For some, imtuck'd, descended her sheaved hat, 
 
 Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; 
 
 Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, 
 
 And, true to bondage, would not break from thence, 
 
 Though slackly braided in loose negHgence. 
 
 A thousand favours from a maund she drew 
 
 Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet, 
 
 Which one by one she in a river threw, 
 
 Upon whose w^eeping margent she was set; 
 
 Like usury, applying wet to wet, 40 
 
 Or monarch's hands that lets not bounty fall 
 
 Where want cries some, but where excess begs all. 
 
 Of folded schedules had she many a one. 
 
 Which she perused, sigh'd, tore, and gave the fiood; 
 
 Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone. 
 
 Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; 
 
 Found yet moe letters sadly penn'd in blood, 
 
 With sleided silk feat and affectedly 
 
 Enswathed, and seal'd to curious secrecy. 
 
 164 
 
 I
 
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT Verses 8—11 
 
 These often bathed she in her fiuxive eyes, 50 
 
 And often kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear; 
 
 Cried ' O false blood, thou register of lies. 
 
 What unapproved wftness dost thou bear! 
 
 Ink would have seem'd more black and damned here ! ' 
 
 This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, 
 
 Big discontent so breaking their contents. 
 
 A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh — 
 
 Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew 
 
 Of court, of city, and had let go by 
 
 The swiftest hours, observed as they flew — 60 
 
 Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew ; 
 
 And, privileged by age, desires to know 
 
 In brief the grounds and motives of her woe. 
 
 So slides he down upon his grained bat. 
 
 And comely-distant sits he by her side; 
 
 When he again desires her, being sat, 
 
 Her grievance with his hearing to divide: 
 
 If that from him there may be aught applied 
 
 Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage, 
 
 'Tis promised in the charity of age. 70 
 
 * Father,' she says, ' though in me you behold 
 The injury of many a blasting hour, 
 Let it not tell your judgement I am old; 
 Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power: 
 I might as yet have been a spreading flower, 
 Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied 
 Love to myself, and to no love beside. 
 
 165
 
 Verses 12—15 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 
 
 ' But, woe is me ! too early I attended 
 
 A youthful suit — it was to gain my grace — 
 
 Of one by nature's outwards so commended, 80 
 
 That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face: 
 
 Love lack'd a dwelling and made him her place ; 
 
 And when in his fair parts she did abide, 
 
 She was new lodged and newly deified. 
 
 'His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; 
 
 And every light occasion of the wind 
 
 Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls. 
 
 What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find: 
 
 Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind; 
 
 For on his visage was in little drawn 90 
 
 What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn. 
 
 ' Small show of man was yet upon his chin ; 
 His phoenix down began but to appear, 
 Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin, 
 Whose bare out-bragg'd the web it seem'd to wear: 
 Yet show'd his visage by that cost more dear; 
 And nice affections wavering stood in doubt 
 If best were as it was, or best without. 
 
 * His qualities were beauteous as his form, 
 
 For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free; 100 
 
 Yet, if men moved him, was he such a storm 
 
 As oft 'twixt May and April is to see, 
 
 When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be. 
 
 His rudeness so with his authorized youth 
 
 Did livery falseness in a pride of truth. 
 
 166
 
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT Verses 16-19 
 
 ' Well could he ride, and often men would say, 
 
 '' That horse his mettle from his rider takes : 
 
 Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, 
 
 What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he 
 
 makes ! " 
 And controversy hence a question takes, no 
 
 Whether the horse by him became his deed, 
 Or he his manage by the well-doing steed. 
 
 ' But quickly on this side the verdict went : 
 
 His real habitude gave life and grace 
 
 To appertainings and to ornament, 
 
 Accomplish'd in himself, not in his case: 
 
 All aids, themselves made fairer by their place, 
 
 Came for additions; yet their purposed trim 
 
 Pierced, not his grace, but were all graced by him. 
 
 ' So on the tip of his subduing tongue, 120 
 
 All kinds of arguments and question deep. 
 
 All replication prompt and reason strong, 
 
 For his advantage still did wake and sleep: 
 
 To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep, 
 
 He had the dialect and different skill, 
 
 Catching all passions in his craft of will; 
 
 ' That he did in the general bosom reign 
 
 Of young, of old, and sexes both enchanted, 
 
 To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain 
 
 In personal duty, following where he haunted: 130 
 
 Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted, 
 
 And dialogued for him what he would sav. 
 
 Ask'd their own wills and made their wills obey. 
 
 167
 
 Verses 20-23 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 
 
 ' Many there were that did his picture get, 
 
 To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind ; 
 
 Like fools that in the imagination set 
 
 The goodly objects which abroad they find 
 
 Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign'd: 
 
 And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them 
 
 Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them : 140 
 
 ' vSo many have, that never touch'd his hand. 
 Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart. 
 My woeful self, that did in freedom stand. 
 And was my own fee-simple, not in part, 
 What with his art in youth and youth in art, 
 Threw my affections in his charmed power. 
 Reserved the stalk and gave him all my flower. 
 
 ' Yet did I not, as some my equals did, 
 
 Demand of him, nor being desired yielded; 
 
 Finding myself in honour so forbid, 150 
 
 With safest distance I mine honour shielded: 
 
 Experience for me many bulwarks builded 
 
 Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil 
 
 Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil. 
 
 * But, ah, who ever shunn'd by precedent 
 
 The destined ill she must herself assay? 
 
 Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content. 
 
 To put the by-past perils in her way? 
 
 Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay; 
 
 For when we rage, advice is often seen 160 
 
 By blunting us to make our wits more keen. 
 
 168
 
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT Verses 24—27 
 
 * Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood, 
 That we must curb it upon others' proof; 
 To be forbid the sweets that seem so good, 
 For fear of harms that preach in our behoof. 
 O appetite, from judgement stand aloof! 
 The one a palate hath that needs will taste, 
 Though Reason weep, and cry " It is thy last." 
 
 * For further I could say " This man's untrue,'* 
 
 And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; 170 
 
 Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew. 
 
 Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; 
 
 Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; 
 
 Thought characters and words merely but art, 
 
 And bastards of his foul adulterate heart. 
 
 ' And long upon these terms I held my city, 
 
 Till thus he 'gan besiege me : " Gentle maid, 
 
 Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity. 
 
 And be not of my holy vows afraid : 
 
 That 's to ye sworn to none was ever said ; 180 
 
 For feasts of love I have been call'd unto, 
 
 Till now did ne'er invite, nor never woo. 
 
 ' " All my offences that abroad you see 
 Arc errors of the blood, none of the mind; 
 Love made them not: with acture they may be, 
 Where neither party is nor true nor kind: 
 They sought their shame that so their sha!:ie did find 
 And so much less of shame in me remains 
 By how much of me their reproach contains. 
 
 169
 
 Verses 28—31 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 
 
 Among the many that mine eyes have seen, 190 
 
 Not one whose flame my heart so much as warmed, 
 Or my affection put to the smallest teen, 
 Or any of my leisures ever charmed: 
 Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed; 
 Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free. 
 And reign'd. commanding in his monarchy. 
 
 ' " Look here, what tributes wounded fancies sent me, 
 
 Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood ; 
 
 Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me 
 
 Of grief and blushes, aptly understood 200 
 
 In bloodless white and the encrimson'd mood; 
 
 Effects of terror and dear modesty, 
 
 Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly. 
 
 ' "And, lo, behold these talents of their hair, 
 
 With twisted metal amorously impleach'd, 
 
 I have received from many a several fair. 
 
 Their kind acceptance weepingly beseech'd, 
 
 With the annexions of fair gems enrich'd. 
 
 And deep-brain'd sonnets that did amplify 
 
 Each stone's dear nature, worth and quality. 210 
 
 * " The diamond, why, 'twas beautiful and hard, 
 
 Whereto his invised properties did tend; 
 
 The deep-green emerald, in whose fresh regard 
 
 Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend; 
 
 The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend 
 
 With objects manifold: each several stone, 
 
 With wit well blazon'd, smiled or made some moan. 
 
 170
 
 )e. 
 
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT Verses 32— 3S 
 
 ' " Lo, all these trophies of affections hot, 
 
 Of pensived and subdued desires the tender. 
 
 Nature hath charged me that I hoard them not, 220 
 
 But yield them up where I myself must render, 
 
 That is, to you, my origin and ender; 
 
 For these, of force, must your oblations b( 
 
 Since I their altar, you enpatron me. 
 
 ' '' O, then, advance of yours that phraseless hand, 
 Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise; 
 Take all these similes to your own command, 
 Hallow'd with sighs that burning lungs did raise; 
 What me your minister, for you obeys, 
 Works under you ; and to your audit comes 230 
 
 Their distract parcels in combined sums. 
 
 ' " Lo, this device was sent me from a nun. 
 Or sister sanctified, of holiest note; 
 Which late her noble suit in court did shun, 
 W^hose rarest havings made the blossoms dote; 
 For she was sought by spirits of richest coat. 
 But kept cold distance, and did thence remove, 
 To spend her living in eternal love. 
 
 ' " But, O my sweet, what labour is 't to leave 
 
 The thing we have not, mastering what not strives, 240 
 
 Playing the place which did no form receive. 
 
 Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves? 
 
 She that her fame so to herself contrives, 
 
 The scars of battle 'scapeth by the flight. 
 
 And makes her absence valiant, not her might. 
 
 171
 
 Verses 36-39 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 
 
 ' " O, pardon me, in that my boast is true: 
 
 The accident which brought me to her eye 
 
 Upon the moment did her force subdue, 
 
 And now she would the caged cloister fly: 
 
 Religious love put out Religion's eye: 250 
 
 Not to be tempted, would she be immured, 
 
 And now, to tempt all, liberty procured. 
 
 ' *' How mighty then you are, O, hear me tell! 
 
 The broken bosoms that to me belong 
 
 Have emptied all their fountains in my well. 
 
 And mine I pour your ocean all among: 
 
 I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong, 
 
 Must for your victory us all congest, 
 
 As compound love to physic your cold breast. 
 
 ' " My parts had power to charm a sacred nun, 260 
 
 Who disciplined, ay, dieted in grace. 
 
 Believed her eyes when they to assail begun, 
 
 All vows and consecrations giving place: 
 
 O most potential love ! vow, bond, nor space. 
 
 In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine. 
 
 For thou art all, and all things else are thine. 
 
 ' '' When thou impressest, what are precepts worth 
 
 Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame. 
 
 How boldly those impediments stand forth 
 
 Of wealth, of fllial fear, law, kindred, fame ! 270 
 
 Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense, 'gainst 
 
 shame; 
 And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears, 
 The aloes of all forces, shocks and fears. 
 
 172
 
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT Verses 40-43 
 
 ' " Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, 
 
 Feeling it break, with feeble groans they pine; 
 
 And supplicant their sighs to you extend, 
 
 To leave the battery that you make 'gainst mine, 
 
 Lending soft audience to my sweet design, 
 
 And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath 
 
 That shall prefer and undertake my troth." 280 
 
 ' This said, his watery eyes he did dismount, 
 Whose sights till then were levell'd on my face; 
 Each cheek a river running from a fount 
 With brinish current downward flow'd aoace: 
 O, how the channel to the stream gave grace! 
 Who glazed with crystal gate the glowing roses 
 That flame through water which their hue encloses. 
 
 ' O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies 
 
 In the small orb of one particular tear! 
 
 But with the inundation of the eyes 290 
 
 What rocky heart to water will not wear? 
 
 What breast so cold that is not warmed here ! 
 
 O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath. 
 
 Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath. 
 
 ' For, lo, his passion, but an art of craft, 
 
 Even there resolved my reason into tears; 
 
 There my white stole of chastity I daff'd, 
 
 Shook off my sober guards and civil fears; 
 
 Appear to him, as he to me appears. 
 
 All melting; though our drops this difterence bore, 300 
 
 His poison'd me, and mine did him restore. 
 
 173
 
 Verses 44-47 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 
 
 ' In him' a plenitude of subtle matter. 
 
 Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives, 
 
 Of burning blushes, or of weeping water, 
 
 Or swounding paleness: and he takes and leaves, 
 
 In either's aptness, as it best deceives. 
 
 To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, 
 
 Or to turn white and swound at tragic shows: 
 
 ' That not a heart which in his level came 
 
 Could 'scape the hail of his all-hurting aim, 310 
 
 Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; 
 
 And, veil'd in them, did win whom he would maim: 
 
 Against the thing he sought he would exclaim; 
 
 When he most burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury. 
 
 He preach'd pure maid and praised cold chastity. 
 
 ' Thus merely with the garment of a Grace 
 
 The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd ; 
 
 That the unexperient gave the tempter place. 
 
 Which, like a cherubin, above them hover'd. 
 
 Who, young and simple, would not be so lover'd? 320 
 
 Ay me! I fell, and yet do question make 
 
 What I should do again for such a sake. 
 
 •' O, that infected moisture of his eye, 
 
 O, that false fire which in his cheek so glow'd, 
 
 O, that forced thunder from his heart did f^y, 
 
 O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestow'd, 
 
 O, all that borrow'd motion seeming owed, 
 
 Would yet again betray the fore-betray'd, 
 
 And new pervert a reconciled maid ! ' 329 
 
 174
 
 THE PHCCNIX AND TURTLE.
 
 The Phoenix and Turtle. 
 
 Let the bird of loudest lay, 
 
 On the sole Arabian tree, 
 
 Herald sad and trumpet be, 
 
 To whose sound chaste wings obey. 
 
 But thou shrieking harbinger. 
 Foul precurrer of the fiend, 
 Augur of the fever's end, 
 To this troop come thou not near 
 
 From this session interdict 
 
 Every fowl of tyrant wing, 10 
 
 Save the eagle, feather'd king: 
 
 Keep the obsequy so strict. 
 
 Let the priest in surplice white, 
 That defunctive music can, 
 Be the death-divining swan, 
 Lest the requiem lack his right. 
 
 And thou treble-dated crow, 
 
 That thy sable gender makest 
 
 With the breath thou givest and takest, 
 
 'jMongst our mourners shalt thou go. 20 
 
 Here the anthem doth commence: 
 Love and constancy is dead; 
 Phoenix and the turtle fled 
 In a mutual flame from hence. 
 
 IT/
 
 Verses 7—13 THE PHOENIX AND TURTLE 
 
 So they loved, as love in twain 
 Had the essence but in one; 
 Two distincts, division none: 
 Number there in love was slain. 
 
 Hearts remote, yet not asunder; 
 Distance, and no space was seen 30 
 
 'Twixt the turtle and his queen: 
 But in them it were a wonder. 
 
 So between them love did shine, 
 That the turtle saw his right 
 Flaming in the phoenix' sight; 
 Either was the other's mine. 
 
 Property was thus appalled, 
 
 That the self was not the same; 
 
 Single nature's double name 
 
 Neither two nor one was called. 40 
 
 Reason, in itself confounded, 
 Saw division grow together, 
 To themselves yet either neither. 
 Simple were so well compounded; 
 
 That it cried, How true a twain 
 Seemeth this concordant one! 
 Love hath reason, reason none, 
 If what parts can so remain. 
 
 Whereupon it made this threne 
 
 To the phcenix anrl the dove, 50 
 
 Co-supremes and stars of love. 
 
 As chorus to their tragic scene. 
 
 178
 
 THE PHOENIX AND TURTLE Verses 14—18 
 
 THRENOS. 
 
 Beauty, truth, and rarity, 
 Grace in. all simplicity, 
 Here enclosed in cinders lie. 
 
 Death is now the phoenix' nest ; 
 And the turtle's loyal breast 
 To eternity doth rest, 
 
 Leaving no posterity : 
 
 'Twas not their infirmit}-, 60 
 
 It was married chastity. 
 
 Truth may seem, but cannot be ; 
 Beauty brag, but 'tis not she ; 
 Truth and beauty buried be. 
 
 To this urn let those repair 
 
 That are either true or fair ; 
 
 For these dead birds sigh a prayer. 
 
 179
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE, <Sc. 
 
 Glossary. 
 
 Accorded, agreed; Comp. 3. 
 Acture, action ; Comp. 1S5. 
 Addressed, prepared, ready; 
 
 1606. 
 Adjunct; "be adj.," follow as 
 
 a consequence; 133. 
 Advance, raise; 1705. 
 Advisedly, deliberately; 180, 
 
 1527, 1 81 6. 
 Affection's, ^2iS'S\ons; 500. 
 .4 //o7t', approve ; 1845. 
 All-too-timeless, altogether un- 
 seasonable ; 44. 
 Aloes, bitterness ; Comp. 273. 
 Anatomic' d, laid open, shown 
 
 distinctly ; 1450. 
 Annexions, additions; Comp. 
 
 208. 
 Antics, fantastic shapes (Quar- 
 tos, "antiques") ; 459. 
 Appaid, satisfied; 914. 
 Ardea, capital of the Rutuli, 
 twenty-four miles south of 
 Rome ; i. 
 Arrive, reach; 781. 
 As, that; 1372. 
 Askance, turn aside; 62,7- 
 Assay, essay, try; Comp. 156. 
 Assays, attempts; 1720. 
 Astonish' d, astounded; 1730. 
 
 Balk, disregard, neglect ; 696. 
 Ban, curse ; 1460. 
 Bare, bareness ; Comp. 95. 
 Barns, stores up ; 859. 
 
 Bat, staff ; Comp. 64. 
 Sateless, not to be blunted ; 9. 
 Beguil'd. rendered guileful ; 
 
 1544- 
 Beldam, grandmother ; 953. 
 Beseems, becomes ; 277. 
 Bezvray'd, exposed ; 1698. 
 Blasts, is blasted ; 49. 
 Blazon'd, interpreted ; Comp. 
 
 217. 
 Blend, blended; Comp. 215. 
 Blood, passion ; Comp. 162. 
 Blossoms, flower of the young 
 
 nobility ; Comp. 235. 
 Blunt, rude, rough; 1504. 
 Boll'n, swollen; 1417. 
 Bond, claim given by a bond, 
 
 ownership ; 136. 
 Braving, challenging; 40. 
 Bulk, chest ; 467. 
 Burdenwise, as in the burden 
 
 of a song; 1133. 
 But, except ; Ph. 32. 
 
 Can, knows ; Ph. 14, 
 
 Capitol; 1835. (The annexed 
 
 figure depicts the renowned 
 
 temple of Jupiter on the Cap- 
 
 itoline Hill.) 
 Careless; " c. hand of pride," 
 
 i.e. hand of careless pride ; 
 
 Comp. 30. 
 Case, dress ; Comp. 1 16. 
 Caiitels, deceits; Comp. 303. 
 
 iSo
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE, <Sc. 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Champaign, open country ; 
 
 1247- 
 
 Chaps, wrinkles (early Quar- 
 tos, "chops") ; 1452. 
 
 Charactgrs, figures ; Comp. 16. 
 
 Cheer, face, look ; 264. 
 
 Cheruhin, cherub; Comp. 319. 
 
 Cipher, decipher; 811. 
 
 Civil, decorous ; Comp. 298. 
 
 Cleft, double, two-fold; Comp. 
 
 293. 
 Coat, coat-of-arms ; 205. 
 Cockatrice, basilisk; 540. 
 Colour, pretext; 267. 
 
 Comfortable, comforting ; 164. 
 Commends, commits ; 436. 
 Compare, comparison ; 40. 
 Complain'd, bewailed; 1839. 
 Conceit, conception ; 701, 1298. 
 Conceited, imaginative; 1371. 
 Conclusion, experiment; 1160. 
 Conduct, that which guides ; 
 
 313- 
 Confound, ruin ; 1202. 
 Congest, gather in one ; Comp. 
 
 258. 
 Contrives, devises ( ? wears 
 
 away, spends); Comp. 243. 
 
 Controll'd, restrained; 448. 
 Convertite, convert, penitent ; 
 
 743- 
 Cop'd, encountered, met ; 99. 
 Copesmate, companion; 925. 
 Coucheth, causes to cower; 
 
 507- 
 Counterfeit, image; 1269. 
 Credent, credulous; Comp. 
 
 279. 
 Crest-wounding, staining the 
 
 family crest ; 828. 
 Cries, cries for ; Comp. 42. 
 Curious, careful ; Comp. 49. 
 
 Daff'd, doffed, put off ; Comp. 
 297. 
 
 Dash, mark of infamy ; 206. 
 
 Deathsman, executioner; looi. 
 
 Defunctive, funereal; Ph. 14. 
 
 Deprive, take away; 1186. 
 
 Descant' st, singest ; 1134. 
 
 Diapason, deep notes harmoni- 
 ously accompanying high 
 ones; 1132. 
 
 Digression, transgression ; 202. 
 
 Dismount, lower ("alluding to 
 the old English fire-arms, 
 which were supported on 
 what was called a rest," Ma- 
 lone) ; Comp. 281. 
 
 Dispense zvith, excuse; 1070. 
 
 Distract, disjoined; Comp. 231. 
 
 Done, ended; 23. 
 
 , past, lost; Comp. IT. 
 
 Dumps, mournful lays; 1127. 
 
 Ecstasy, excitement ; Comp. 69. 
 Effects, outward manifestations 
 
 (? efficacies) ; 1555. 
 Element, sky; 1588. 
 
 181
 
 Glossary 
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 6c, 
 
 Enpatron; " e. me," are my 
 patron saint ; Comp. 224. 
 
 Ensue, follow ; 502. 
 
 Exclaiming on, crying out 
 against ; 741. 
 
 Extincture, extinction; Comp. 
 294. 
 
 Fact, deed (perhaps criminal 
 deed) ; 349. 
 
 Falcons hell; 511. A specimen 
 of such a bell, bearing the 
 nobleman-owner's arms, is 
 here reproduced from an en- 
 graving by Fairholt. 
 
 Falls, lets fall; 1551. 
 
 Fancy's, love's ; 200. 
 
 Fear, the object of his fear; 
 308. 
 
 F east-finding, attending ban- 
 quets; 817. 
 
 Feat, featly, dexterously ; 
 Comp. 48. 
 
 Fence, defend; 62,. 
 
 Field (perhaps with a play 
 upon its heraldic use) ; 72. 
 
 Fiery-pointed, " throwing darts 
 with points of fire" (Stee- 
 vens, " Hrey-pointed") ', 2)7^- 
 
 Fine, bring to an end (?) re- 
 fine, soften; 936. 
 
 Fluxive, flowing, weeping; 
 
 Comp. 50. 
 Foil, setting, background ; 
 
 Comp. 153. 
 Folly, wantonness; 851. 
 Fond, foolishly fond; 134. 
 Fondly, foolishly ; 207. 
 Force; " of f.," perforce ; Comp. 
 
 223. 
 Force not, regard not, care not 
 
 for; 1021. 
 Forestall, prevent ; 728. 
 For why, because ; 1222. 
 Frets, the stops that regulated 
 
 the vibration of the strings 
 
 in musical instruments; 1140. 
 From; " fr. the way," i.e. " out 
 
 of the way "; 1144. 
 Fuinil'd, filled full ; 1258. 
 
 Gage, stake; 144. 
 
 Gaze ; " at g.," staring about ; 
 
 1 149. 
 Gentry, gentle birth; 569, 
 Government, self-control; 1400. 
 Graff, graft ; 1062. 
 Grained, of rough wood ; Comp. 
 
 64. 
 Grave, engrave ; 755. 
 Gripe's, griffins ; 543. 
 
 Havings, accomplishments; 
 Comp. 235. 
 
 Heartless, bereft of all 
 courage; 471. 
 
 Helpless, unavailing ; 1027. 
 
 Hild, held (rhyming with 
 ''fulfiird"); 1257. 
 
 His, its; 303. 
 
 Hive, a kind of bonnet, re- 
 sembling a hive ; Comp. 8. 
 
 182
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 6c. 
 
 Glossary 
 
 ///, wickedness ; 304. 
 
 Imaginary, imaginative ; 1422. 
 
 Immur'd, shut up in a cloister 
 (Quarto "enure," rhyming 
 with " procure ") ; Comp. 
 
 251. 
 
 Implcacli'd, entwin'd ; " hair 
 with twisted metal amorously 
 impleach'd " ; Comp. 205. 
 {Cp. the annexed engraving 
 of such an ornament. The 
 lock of hair is that of Mary 
 Queen of Scots, and the relic 
 is preserved by the descend- 
 ants of the Earl of Huntly, 
 to whom she gave it.) 
 
 Instance; "guilty i.." i.e. 
 
 "token of guilt"; 151 1. 
 Intending, pretending; 121. 
 Intituled, having a claim; 57. 
 Intrude, invade, enter ; 848. 
 Invis'd, invisible ( ? inspected, 
 
 tried) ; Comp. 212. 
 
 Ken, sight ; 11 14. 
 
 Kind, natural ; 1423. 
 
 Kinds, natures ; 1242. • 
 
 Late, lately; 1801. 
 
 Laundering, wetting ; Comp. 
 
 17. 
 
 Lawn, fine linen ; 258. 
 
 Lectures, lessons ; 618. 
 
 Leisures, leisure hours; Comp. 
 193. 
 
 Let, forbear ; 10. 
 
 , hinder; 328. 
 
 Levell'd (technical term for 
 aiming a gun) ; Comp. 22. 
 
 Like ivory conduits coral cis- 
 terns filling; 1234. The simile 
 is illustrated by the annexed 
 engraving from the XlVth 
 century Lancelot romance, 
 preserved in the National Li- 
 brary at Paris. 
 
 Limed, ensnared bv bird-lime 
 
 88. 
 Linen, linen kerchief ; 680. 
 Lust, pleasure; 1384. 
 Lust-breathed, animated 
 
 lust; 3. 
 Luxury, lust; Comp. 314. 
 
 by 
 
 183
 
 Glossary 
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE, 6c 
 
 Map, picture, image ; 402, 
 
 Mar gents, margins; 102. 
 
 Maund, hand-basket ; Comp. 2,^. 
 
 Maze; 1151. The famous Cre- 
 tan labyrinth was often de- 
 picted on gold pieces, as in 
 the accompanying illustration 
 of a coin of Cnossus. 
 
 Mermaid, siren; 1411. 
 
 Moe, more ; 1479. 
 
 Moity, portion ; Dedic. to Luc. 
 
 Moralize, interpret ; 104. 
 
 Mortality; " life's m.," i.e. 
 
 " mortal, human life " ; 403. 
 Mot, motto; 830. 
 
 Napkin, handkerchief ; Comp. 
 
 15. 
 
 Needle (monosyllabic) ; 319. 
 Nice, skilful ; 1412. 
 Night-waking, awake at night; 
 
 554- 
 Note, notoriety; Comp. 233. 
 Nought to do, nothing to do 
 
 with; 1092. 
 
 0)1 ; "on ringing," i.e. " a- 
 
 ringing"; 1494. 
 Orchards, gardens; Comp. 171. 
 Orts, scraps; 985. 
 
 Outwards, external 
 
 Comp. 80. 
 Oversee, superintend 
 Overseen, bewitched ; 
 Owe, own, have ; 82. 
 Owed, owned; 1803. 
 
 Pack-horse; 928. 
 tration.) 
 
 features 
 
 1205. 
 1206. 
 
 (Cp. illus- 
 
 From a terra-cotta figure found at 
 Moulins-sur-Allier, France. 
 
 Painted cloth, canvas painted 
 with figures, mottoes, or 
 moral sentences, used for 
 hangings for ropms ; 245. 
 (Cp. illustration p. 185.) 
 
 Paled, pale (Quarto, 
 "palyd") ; Comp. 158. 
 
 Palmers', pilgrims'; 791. 
 
 Parling, speaking ; 100. 
 
 Peace; "love's arms are p." 
 so Quarto, i.e. non-resistant, 
 accepting all consequences ; 
 M a 1 o n e, " proof," etc.) 
 Comp. 271. 
 
 184
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 6c. 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Posicd, inscribed with posies ; 
 Comp. 45. (C/?. illustration.) 
 
 This representation of a meeting be- 
 tween Death and a fop is a copy of a 
 painting formerly preserved in the 
 Hungerford Chapel, Salisbury Ca 
 thedral. The dialogue between the 
 characters is painted on the labels 
 over their heads. 
 
 Peers, lets peer, shows ; 472. 
 Pelleted, rounded; Comp. 18. 
 Pelt, throw out angry words ; 
 
 1418. 
 Pensiv'd, pensive ; Comp. 219. 
 Perplex' d, bewildered; 7^2>- 
 Philomel, the nightingale ; 
 
 1079. 
 Phoenix, matchless, rare ; Comp. 
 
 93. 
 
 Phraseless, baffling descrip- 
 tion; Comp. 225. 
 Plaining, complaining; 559. 
 Plaits, folds ; 93. 
 Plausibly, willingly ; 1854. 
 Point' st, appointest; 879. 
 
 From a specimen found at Arreton, 
 Isle of Wight. 
 
 Precedent, example; 1261. 
 Present, instant; 1263. 
 Pretended, intended; 576. 
 Prick, dial-point; 781. 
 Prime, spring; 331. 
 Prone, headlong ; 684. 
 Proof, experience ; Comp. 163. 
 Property, individuality ; Ph. 2)7- 
 Proportion'd, regular, orderly; 
 
 774- 
 Purified, purged, rendered 
 
 harmless ; 532. 
 Purl'd, curled ; 1407. 
 
 Qualiiied, softened, abated; 
 
 424. 
 Questioned, conversed; 122. 
 Quittal, requital ; 2^6. 
 Quote, observe; 812. 
 
 Rate, chide ; 304. 
 
 Receipt, what has been re- 
 ceived ; 703. 
 
 Regard, thought, deliberation ; 
 1400. 
 
 Relish, serve up as a relish ; 
 1 126. 
 
 Remember' d; " be r.," remem- 
 ber; 607. 
 
 Remorseless, pitiless ; 562. 
 
 Rents, rends; Comp. 55. 
 
 185
 
 Glossary 
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE, 6c. 
 
 Repeal, recall ; 640. 
 Replication, repartee ; Comp. 
 
 122. 
 Requiring, asking ; Argum, to 
 
 Luc. 
 Respect, prudent consideration ; 
 
 275. 
 Retires, draws back ; 303. 
 Retiring, returning; 962. 
 Rigol, circle; 1745. 
 Ruine, noise, brawls; Comp. 58. 
 
 Saw, maxim; 244. 
 
 Sazvn, sown; Comp. 91. 
 
 Scapes, transgressions ; 747. 
 
 Seated, situated; 1144. 
 
 Securely, unsuspiciously ; 89. 
 
 Seeks to, applies to ; 293. 
 
 Seeming; " s. owed," i.e. which 
 he seemed to possess ; Comp. 
 327- 
 
 Senseless, i.e. " not sensible of 
 the wrong done it " ; 820. 
 
 Shames, is ashamed; 1084. 
 
 Shaming, being ashamed; 1143. 
 
 Sheav'd, straw; Comp. 31. 
 
 Shift, trickery; 920. 
 
 Shifting, (?) cozening; 930. 
 
 Sightless, blind, dark; 1013. 
 
 Silly, harmless, innocent ; 167. 
 
 Siniois. the river so often re- 
 ferred to by Homer ; 1437. 
 
 Slanderous, disgraceful ; looi. 
 
 Slcidcd. imlwisted ; Comp. 48. 
 
 Smoothing, flattering; 892. 
 
 Sneapcd, nipped, frost-bitten ; 
 332>' 
 
 Ssrt, sort out, select ; 899. 
 
 5o;'/,y, adapts ; 1221. 
 
 Springs, young shoots; 95c. 
 
 Stell'd, placed, fixed; 1444. 
 
 Sfill-pining, ever-longing; 858. 
 
 Still-slaughter' d, ever killed but 
 
 never dying; 188. 
 Stole, robe ; Comp. 297. 
 Stops (alluding to the stops in 
 
 a musical instrument) ; 1124. 
 Strange, foreign ; 1242. 
 Suffer, permit; 1832. 
 Suggested, incited: 37. 
 Supposed, imagined (by 
 
 them) ; 377. 
 Surcease, cease; 1766. 
 Surmise, reflection, thought; 
 
 83. 
 Swiftest; " the s. hour," the 
 
 prime of life ; Comp. 60. 
 Sivounds, swoons ; i486. 
 
 Talents, lockets made of hair, 
 plaited and set in gold; 
 Comp. 204. Cp. s.v. im- 
 pleach'd. 
 
 Teen, pain ; Comp. 192. 
 
 Temperance, chastity; 884. 
 
 Tender, favour; 534. 
 
 Termless, indescribable 
 
 94. 
 
 Than 
 
 .omp. 
 
 he- 
 
 ( rhyming with 
 gan ")> then ; 1440. 
 
 7/20^ so that; 177. 
 
 Thick, fast; 1784. 
 
 Think ( ? ) =: methinks ; Comp. 
 91. 
 
 Thorough, through, through- 
 out; 185 1. 
 
 Threne, threnody, funeral 
 song; Ph. 49. 
 
 To, in addition to; 1589. 
 
 Towering, flying high (a term 
 of falconry) ; 506. 
 
 Treble-dated, living thrice as 
 long as man ; Ph. 17. 
 
 Trumpet, trumpeter ; Ph. 3. 
 
 j86 
 
 I
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 6c. 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Unadvised, inadvertent ; 1488. 
 Unapproved, not approved, not 
 
 proved true ; Comp. 53. 
 Uncouth, strange ; 1598. 
 Unhappy, mischievous, fatal ; 
 
 1565. 
 Unrecalling, not to be recalled ; 
 
 993- 
 
 Vastly, take a waste; 1740. 
 Villain, country man; 1338. 
 
 Want; " to w.," i.e. " at miss- 
 ing " ; 389. 
 M^ard, bolt; 303. 
 Watch: "w. of woes," i.e. "di- 
 
 vided and marked only by 
 woes " ; 928. 
 
 Water-galls, secondary rain- 
 bows; 1588. 
 
 Weed, garment ; 196. 
 
 Where, whereas ; 792. 
 
 Winking, shutting the eyes; 
 458. 
 
 Winks, shuts the eyes, slum- 
 bers; 553. 
 
 Wipe, brand ; 537. 
 
 Wistly, wistfully ; 1355. 
 
 Woodman, huntsman ; 580. 
 
 Wot; "God w.," i.e. "God 
 knows " ; 1345. 
 
 Wrapp'd, involved; 456. 
 
 187
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 6c. 
 
 Critical Notes. 
 
 BY ISRAEL GOLLANCZ. 
 
 Lucrece: 8. 'unhappily' ; Quartos i, 2, 3, ' vnhap'ly* 
 24. 'morning's' ; Quarto i (Bodl. i), 'morning.' 
 31. 'apologies' ; Quarto i (Bodl. i), ' appologie.' 
 56. 'o'er'; Quartos i, 2, 3, 'ore'; Quarto 4, 'or'e'; Malone 
 (1780), 'or' {i.e. gold). 
 
 134-136. Many emendations have been proposed to render clear 
 the meaning of these lines, but no change is necessary: "the 
 covetous have not, i.e. do not possess, that which they possess, 
 longing for the possessions of others " ; the second clause of line 
 135 is in apposition to the first. 
 195. 'let'; Schmidt conj. ' lest.' 
 239. ' ay, if ' ; early Quartos, ' /, if.' 
 
 637. i.e. "who, in consequence of their own misdeeds, look with 
 indifference on the offences of others" (Schmidt). 
 
 649. 'debt'; early Quartos 'det' (rhyming with 'fret'): sim- 
 ilarly line 696, 'balk'; Quartos, 'bank' (rhyming with ' haivk'). 
 782. 'misty'; Quartos i, 2. ' miistie.' 
 
 841. 'guilty'; Malone, 'guiltless,' but no change is necessary; 
 Lucrece's self-reproach at first assigns the guilt to herself. 
 930. Perhaps we should read, ' injurious-shifting Time.' 
 939. ' Time's glory is . . .' Veritas iilia temp oris was a fa- 
 vourite motto in the sixteenth century, as is seen from the 
 engravings on page 189 (i) of the reverse of a silver groat issued 
 by Queen Mary, and (2) of a design found in Whitney's Em- 
 blems (1586). 
 
 1 134. ' descant' st ' ; Quartos, 'descants.' 
 "^SS^- ' court' sies ' ; Quartos, ' cursies.' 
 1662. 'wretched' ; S. Walker conj, 'wreathed.' 
 A Lover's Complaint: 12. 'scythed'; Quarto, ' sithed.' 
 37. 'beaded'; Quarto, 'bedded' (? = " imbedded, set"). 
 39. 'weeping mar gent ' ; Malone conj. ' mar gent zvceping.' 
 51. * 'gan to tear ' ; Quarto, ' gaue to teare ' ; Gildon, ' gave a tear. 
 60. 'observed as they Hew'; the clause is probably connected 
 with 'hours'; "the reverend man had not let the swift hours 
 
 188
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE, <5c. 
 
 Notes 
 
 pass by without gaining some knowledge of the world " ; it is 
 possible, however, that ' they ' refers to the torn-up letters. 
 
 112. 'manage'; Quarto, ' mannad'g.' 
 
 ii8. 'came'; Sewell's correction; Quarto, 'can'; Sewell's 2nd 
 ed. ' can for additions get their purpose trim.' 
 
 182. ' zvoo ' ; Quarto, ' vow.' 
 
 164. ' sweets that seem ' ; Quarto, ' siveets that seemes ' ; Capell 
 MS. ■ szveet that seems.' 
 
 228. ' Hallow' d ' ; Quarto, ' hollowed ' ; Sewell's correction. 
 
 241. ' playing the place ' ; some error due to the printer has spoilt 
 the line ; the first word of the line has been caught up by the com- 
 positor's eye from the first of the next line, or vice versa ; the most 
 ingenious and plausible emendation is 'paling' for 'playing.' 
 
 260. 'nun'; Quarto, ' Siinne.' 
 
 261. 'ay'; Quarto, 'I.' 
 
 271. 'Love's arms are peace'; so Quarto; Capell MS. and Ma- 
 lone conj. 'proof for 'peace' a plausible change, if any is neces- 
 sary ; other readings are : — ' Love aims at peace ' ; ' Love charms 
 our peace ' ; ' Love aims a piece' etc. 
 
 286. 'who glas'd with crystal gate' ; Malone, ' ivho, glaz'd with 
 crystal, gate' {i.e. gate ■=^" th& ancient perfect tense of the verb 
 to get," Hame being its object). 
 
 308. ' swoiind'; Quarto, 'sound' cp. 305, ' swounding' ; Quarto, 
 ' sounding.' 
 
 (2) 
 
 Timers glory is to . 
 
 brhvr Truth to light ^ (939, 40). 
 189
 
 SONNETS.
 
 SHAKE-SPEARES 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 Neuer before Imprinted. 
 
 AT LONDON 
 
 By G.Eld for T, T. and are 
 
 to be foldc by wilUim^^Uy. 
 I 609. 
 
 igz
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 Preface. 
 
 The First Edition. On May 20th, 1609, " a book called 
 Shakcspcares Sonnettcs " was entered on the Stationers' 
 Register, and soon after was pubHshed, in quarto, with 
 the following title-page : — 
 
 " SHAKE-SPEARES | sonnets. | Neuer before Im- 
 printed. I AT LONDON | By G. ELD for T. T. and are | 
 to be solde by William Aspley. \ 1609. | "* {cp. 
 facsimile on opposite page.) 
 
 At the end of the Sonnets was printed, for the first 
 time, the poem entitled " A Lovers Complaint/' 
 
 The text of the Sonnets was, on the whole, carefully 
 printed, but evidently without the author's supervision; 
 thus, e.g. Sonnet CXXVL, a twelve-line Envoi, was 
 marked by parentheses at the end, as though two lines 
 were missing; similarly, the final couplet of Sonnet 
 XCVI. may have been borrowed from Sonnet XXXVI. 
 
 In 1640 Shakespeare's Sonnets, re-arranged under va- 
 rious titles (with the omission of XVIII., XIX., XLIII., 
 LVL, LXXV., LXXVI., XCVI., CXXVL), were in- 
 cluded in "POEMS: written by Wil. SHAKE- 
 SPEARE, Gent. Printed at London by Tho. Cotes, and 
 
 * Some copies have the name of " John Wright, dwelling at 
 Christ Church gate," as the bookseller, instead of " William 
 Aspley." 
 
 A facsimile of the "Sonnets" was issued among the " Shak- 
 spere Quarto Facsimiles " (No. 30). 
 
 The original selling price of the "Sonnets" was 5d. A per- 
 fect copy would, probably, now fetch £500. 
 
 193
 
 Preface SONNETS 
 
 are to be sold by John Benson, dwelling- in St. Dunstanes 
 Churchyard 1640." 
 
 It is strange that there should have been no edition be- 
 tween 1609 and 1640; perhaps Benson's protestation 
 that '' the Reader " will find them " Seren, cleere, and 
 eligantly plain, such gentle straines as shall recreate and 
 not perplexe the brain, no intricate or cloudy stuffe to 
 puzzell intellect, but perfect eloquence," best explains the 
 prevailing opinion on the subject of the poems. Mr. 
 Publisher " protests too much " against the alleged ob- 
 scurity of the Sonnets.* 
 
 One hundred years after the appearance of the First 
 Edition, the Sonnets were first republished, by Lintot, 
 as originally printed; about the same time Gildon issued 
 a new edition of the 1640 version, under the heading of 
 *' Poems on several occasions." 
 
 The Sequence of the Sonnets. The Sonnets, as print- 
 ed in 1609, present on the whole an orderly arrangement, 
 though here and there it is somewhat difficult to find the 
 connecting links. If it could be proved that any one Son- 
 net is out of place, the whole chain would perhaps be 
 spoilt, but no such " broken link " can be adduced, f 
 
 The Sonnet-Sequence consists of three main sections: 
 —A. Sonnets I.-CXXVL; B. Sonnets CXXVII.-CLIL; 
 
 * Probably no weight is to be attached to Benson's statement 
 that the poems are " of the same purity the Author himself then 
 living avouched." 
 
 t Mr. Rolfe, in his Addenda to the "Sonnets/' contrasts Sonnet 
 LXX. with Sonnets XXXIII.-XXXVI. (to say nothing of XL.- 
 XLII.) ; if these Sonnets, he observes, are addressed to the same 
 person, Sonnet LXX. is unquestionably out of place. This seems 
 so at first sight; but surely the faults referred to in the earlier 
 Sonnets are not only forgiven, but here (in LXX.) imputed to 
 slander ; or, as Mr. Tyler puts it, " such an affair as that with the 
 poet's mistress was not regarded, apparently, as involving serious 
 moral blemish." Anyhow the statement in the Sonnet is some- 
 what too flattering, but its position dare not be disturbed. 
 
 194 
 
 I
 
 SONNETS Preface 
 
 C. Sonnets CLIII.-CLIV.; Sections A and B are closely 
 connected; Section C may be a sort of Epilogue to B, 
 but it is more probably an independent exercise in son- 
 neteering, based on a Latin version of a Greek Epigram 
 found in the ninth book of the Anthology, composed by 
 Byzantine Marianus, a writer probably of the fifth cen- 
 tury after Christ: — 
 
 "T^5' iiirb t4j irXardvov^ aira\(^ rcTpvft^voi Svv<^ 
 eCSej/'Epo)?, vvficpaii XafJ-irdda Trapdi/jLevoi. 
 
 ff^icrcafiev,' (Tirovy * ofioO irOp Kpadlr}^ /jLep&rrwv. 
 AafiTrhi 5* tis i<p\e^€ Kal (JSara, Oep/ibv iiceidev 
 '^vfx<f>at. 'Ep&mciSej Xovrpoxoevaiv uSwp." * 
 
 The Drama of the Sonnet. The general theme of the 
 Sonnets is the poet's almost idolatrous love for a young- 
 er friend, a noble and beauteous youth, beloved for his 
 own sweet sake, not for his exalted rank ; this unself- 
 ish, whole-hearted, and soul-absorbing devotion passes 
 through various stages of doubt, distrust, infidelity, jeal- 
 ousy, and estrangement; after the period of trial, love is 
 again restored, stronger and greater than before: — 
 
 " O benefit of ill! nozv I find true 
 
 That better is by evil still made better ; 
 
 And ruin'd love, zvhen it is built anew, 
 
 Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater." 
 
 " Friendship Triumphant " is the story unfolded in 
 Sonnets I.-CXXYL Love between man and man, tri- 
 
 * " Here beneath the plane trees, overborne by soft sleep. Love 
 slumbered, giving his torch to the Nymphs' keeping; and the 
 Nymphs said to one another, 'Why do we delay? and would that 
 with this we might have quenched the fire in the heart of mortals.' 
 But now, the torch having kindled even the waters, the amorous 
 Nymphs pour hot water thence into the bathing pool." Mackail, 
 Select Epigrams. (On the source of the two Sonnets, cp. Hertz- 
 berg, Jahrbuch dcr Deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft, 1878.) 
 A Latin rendering is found in Selecta Epigrammata; Basel, 1529. 
 
 195
 
 Preface SONNETS 
 
 umphing over the love of man for woman, was no un- 
 common theme in Ehzabethan literature. The denoue- 
 ment of The Two Gentlemen of Verona turns upon it, 
 while Lyly's Canipaspe (pub. 1584) illustrates the same 
 truth: — Alexander the Great and Apelles, the most famed 
 of Grecian painters, were intimate friends ; their friend- 
 ship was well-nigh wrecked through a woman's charms; 
 the painter became enamoured of the monarch's mis- 
 tress while painting her likeness, but Alexander gener- 
 ously cancelled his claim; his friendship for the painter 
 was greater than his love for the fair captive. 
 
 The Sonnet-drama seems to have many points in com- 
 mon with Lyly's Court-play; instead of the painter of 
 '* Venus Anadyomene," we have the poet of " Venus and 
 Adonis"; instead of magnanimity on the part of the 
 high-born and exalted friend, it is the wronged poet who 
 bears forgivingly "the strong offence's cross"; instead 
 of a ravishingly beautiful woman, we have a dark-eyed 
 Circe, the reverse of beautiful, bewitching men by the 
 magic of her eyes; a dark-haired, pale-cheeked siren, 
 drawing her victims despite their knowledge of her wiles; 
 a very Cleopatra in strength, intellect and hedonism. 
 
 As in the drama, so in the Sonnets, the chief actors 
 are three in number; the poet is, however, the hero; 
 the friend and the woman are the good and evil angels: — 
 
 " Two loves I have of comfort and despair, 
 Which like two spirits do suggest me still; 
 The better angel is a man right fair, 
 The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill." 
 
 This, then, is the keynote of the whole sequence: the 
 first section (I.-CXXVI.) is occupied mainly with the 
 " man right fair," the second (CXXVIL-CLII.) con- 
 cerns the " woman colour'd ill," to whom passing allu- 
 sion is evidently made in Sonnets XXX.-XXXV^, etc.; 
 the poet's picture of his Campaspe needed a special sec- 
 tion for itself; he gives us no fancv picture, but one 
 evidently drawn from life {cp. CXXVIL-CXLIV., etc.). 
 
 196
 
 SONNETS Preface 
 
 Noteworthy Points, (i) Although the first one han- 
 dred and twenty-six Sonnets form one whole, it is quite 
 clear that they sub-divide into smaller groups, though 
 in very few instances does a Sonnet stand by itself, un- 
 connected with what goes before or with what follows. 
 Thus I.-XXVL is a series of Sonnets forming, at is 
 were, a single poetical epistle urging his friend to marry; 
 XXVn. -XXXII. seem to form another such epistle, 
 dealing with friendship in absence; XXXIII. -XLII. tell 
 of love's first disillusioning ; love's willing pain, self- 
 denial, and forgiveness ; XLIII.-LV. express friendship's 
 fears during separation. Similarly, the remaining Son- 
 nets of the series may be more or less accurately 
 grouped ; the most striking of the remaining groups is 
 probably C.-CXXV., which gives the impression of hav- 
 ing been added after the so-called Sonnet CXXVI. had 
 been written; if this were so, Shakespeare's original in- 
 tention was to compose a Century of Sonnets, following 
 the example of the poet Watson, the author of " Hek- 
 atompathia, the Passionate Century of Love." (Cp. Ana- 
 lytical Chart.) 
 
 (ii) These various poetical epistles probably represent 
 intervals of time; but there are also more direct indica- 
 tions of the time covered by the poems; the most impor- 
 tant of these indications is to be found in Sonnet CIV. 
 (where a three years' space is alluded to; compare with 
 the'earier Sonnets, e.g. XXXIII. ''he was but one hour 
 mine "). Time-indications are also perhaps to be found 
 in the references to particular seasons in some of the 
 Sonnets. 
 
 (iii) Certain Sonnets are suggestive of historical allu- 
 sions, notably CVII. and CXXIV., though it may a I: 
 present be difficult to explain with certainty the event'^ 
 referred to. 
 
 (iv.) One of the most striking features of the Sonnets 
 is the poet's oft-repeated belief in the immortality of his 
 poems (e.g. LV., LXIII.. LXXXL, etc.): he was evi- 
 dently following Horace's excellent precedent (" c.vcgi 
 
 197
 
 Preface SONNETS 
 
 monunientiim cere perennius") in making his proud 
 claim : — 
 
 "Not marble, nor the gilded monuments 
 Of princes, shall outlive this pozverful rhyme." 
 
 (v.) Side by side with this exultation we have the poet's 
 sense of humiliation arising from his connexion with 
 the common stage {cp. XXIX.). 
 
 (vi.) Lastly, among the most noteworthy points on 
 the very surface of the Sonnets, there is the poet's sensi- 
 tiveness, showing itself in many forms, now in his pas- 
 sionate devotion, now in his regard for his reputation 
 (CXXI), now in his jealous resentment of any rival near 
 the throne of his love. 
 
 Who was the Rival Poet? Sonnets LXXIX.- 
 LXXXVI. obviously refer to some particular poet. 
 Various solutions have been advanced. Marlowe, Dray- 
 ton, Daniel, have each been put forward, but no satisfac- 
 tory case has been made out for any of them. In all 
 probability George Chapman is the poet referred to and 
 characterised. In the dedication to his poem called The 
 Shadozi' of Night (published in 1594) occur the following 
 words : — " Now what a supererogation in wit this is, to 
 think Skill so nightly pierced with their loves that she 
 should prostitutely show them her secrets, when she will 
 scarcely be looked upon by others but with invocation, 
 fasting, ivatching; yea, not without having drops of their 
 soids like a heavenly familiar;" these words seem almost 
 re-echoed in Shakespeare's bantering allusion to " that 
 affable familiar ghost/' etc. " Chapman,"* as Minto well 
 observed, " was a man of overpowering enthusiasm, ever 
 eager in magnifying poetry, and advancing fervent 
 claims to supernatural inspiration." 
 
 "" The proud full sail of his great verse " recalls Keats's 
 
 * Cp. Characteristics of English Poets, pp. 222, 223, where the 
 suggestion was first made that Chapman was the poet in question. 
 
 198 
 
 I
 
 SONNETS Preface 
 
 famous sonnet, " On first looking into Chapman's 
 Homer "* : — 
 
 " Then felt I like some zvatcJier of the skies 
 When a new planet szuinis into his ken; 
 
 Or like stout Cortez zvhcn zvith eagle eyes 
 He star'd at the Paciiic — and all his men 
 
 Look'd at eaeh other with a wild surmise — 
 Silent, upon a peak in Darien." 
 
 The Date of Composition. The Sonnets were first 
 printed in the year 1609; " The Passionate Pilgrim;' pub- 
 lished in IS99, contained two Sonnets found in the 1609 
 volume (viz. CXXXVIIL and CXLIV.) ; Francis Meres 
 in his Palladis Taniia, 1598, referred to Shakespeare's 
 **' sugred Sonnets among his private friends," and the ref- 
 erence may be to the collection, or part of the collection, 
 under consideration.! This sums up the direct evidence 
 we possess. Seeing, however, that Shakespeare, in 1593, 
 styled his J^eniis and Adonis " the first heir of my inven- 
 
 * Chapman first published seven books of the Piiad in 1598. 
 t Mr. Tyler (Shakespeare's Sonnets, p. 19) makes the ingenious 
 suggestion that Sonnet LV., "Not marble, nor the gilded monu- 
 ments," etc., and more especially the line, ''Not Mars his sword, 
 nor war's quick tire shall hum," was suggested by Meres' refer- 
 ence to Shakespeare, etc. ; the suggestion is certainly note- 
 worthy : — 
 
 " As Ovid saith of his worke : — 
 
 ' Jamque opus excgi, quod nee Jovis ira, nee ignis. 
 Nee poterit ferruni, nee edax abolcre vetustas: ' 
 And as Horace saith of his, — 
 
 'Excgi monunientum cere perennius,' etc. 
 So say I severally of Sir Philip Sidney's, Spenser's, Daniel's, 
 Drayton's, Shakespeare's, and Warner's workes : — 
 
 ' Non Jovis ira, imbres. Mars, ferrum, Hamma, senectus. 
 Hoc opus unda, lues, turbo, venena ruent.' 
 Et quamquam ad pulcherrimum hoc opus evertendum tres illi 
 Dii conspirabunt, cronus, Volcanus, et pater ipse gentis : — 
 'Non tanien annorum series, non Hamma, nee ensis, 
 Sternum potuit hoc abolcre dicus.' " 
 
 199
 
 Preface SONNETS 
 
 tion," and that the poem on the Rape of Lucrece appeared 
 the following year, it is perhaps fair to assume that 1594 
 may be the " terminus a quo " for the Sonnets.* Again 
 we have the closest link between the Sonnets and the early 
 love-plays, with their love-intrigues, their dark beauty 
 (e.g. Rosaline in Love's Labour's Lost), their sonnet- 
 dialogue, their dominating thought : — 
 
 "Never durst poet touch a pen to write 
 
 Until his ink were tempered with love's sighs." 
 
 {Love's Labour's Lost, IV. iii. 547.) 
 
 No long interval could have separated " Romeo and 
 Juliet " and Sonnet CXV'L, the poet's epitaph for the 
 golden tomb raised to the lovers by their loveless kin, — 
 the very epitome of all the Songs and Stories of Romantic 
 Passion that we have heard or read. 
 
 On the other hand, there are notes in the Sonnets sug- 
 gestive of plays of a somewhat later period {e.g. Sonnets 
 LXVI.-LXXiV. recall Hamlet and Measure for Meas- 
 ure) : this note of introspection and melancholy must not 
 be pressed too far, seeing that, even in the earliest plays, 
 the clouds often darken suddenly. 
 
 We may perhaps assume that the earliest Sonnets be- 
 long to about 1595. If Sonnet CIV. were taken strictly, 
 the period covered w^ould be (cirea) 1595 — {circa) 1598. 
 The date, however, cannot be definitely fixed until we are 
 in possession of some of the facts underlying the poems. 
 True, Shakespeare seems to have unlocked his heart in 
 these Sonnets, but the key to their secret history has been 
 lost ; patient labour may have recovered it ; yet we can- 
 not be sure ; too often, perhaps, we merely force the 
 lock.f 
 
 * In XCIV. occurs the well-known line, " Lillies that fester smell 
 far worse than weeds," which is also found in the Shakespearian 
 play of Edward III., written probably in 1594, and entered on the 
 bocks of the Stationers' Registers, Dec. ist. 1595. 
 
 t It is impossible in this short preface to sketch, however briefly, 
 the history of the interpretation of the Sonnets ; according to 
 some critics they are allegorical exercises, according to others 
 
 200
 
 SONNETS Preface 
 
 To whom were the Sonnets addressed ? The world of 
 scholars may be said to be divided into Herbertists and 
 Southamptonites ; the former are staunch supporters of 
 the claims advanced on behalf of William Herbert, Earl 
 of Pembroke ; the latter maintain the prior claims of 
 Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton. 
 
 At the present moment the star of William Herbert is 
 in the ascenciant. Many a former ally of Southampton 
 has rallied round the banner unfurled by Herbert's re- 
 doubtable champion, ]\Ir. Thomas Tyler.* 
 
 William Herbert's claims. W^illiam Herbert was born 
 on April 8, 1580; in the spring of the year 1598 he came 
 to reside permanently in London. Evidence exists that 
 he was averse to marriage ; he was, however, no mis- 
 ogynist. His intrigue with a notorious Mistress Mary 
 Fitton has much in common with " the sensual fault " of 
 " the better angel " of the Sonnets. The scandal be- 
 longed to I 600- I. 
 
 The Herbertists assign the Sonnets to the years 1598- 
 1601 ; the historical allusions in Sonnets CVH., CXXIV., 
 are referred by them to the rebellion of Essex (1601) ; 
 they maintain that nothing in the Sonnets invalidates their 
 claims. 
 
 Furthermore, they rightly call attention to the fact that 
 to William Herbert, together with his brother Philip, " the 
 most noble and Incomparable pair of brethren." was dedi- 
 
 partly personal, and partly dramatic {cp. Massey's "Secret Drama 
 of the Sonnets") ; the weightiest authorities support the view that 
 the Sonnets express Shakespeare's " own feelings in his own per- 
 son." (A summary of the various theories will be found in Prof. 
 Dowden's edition of the Sonnets, 1881.) 
 
 "^"Shakespeare's Sonnets, edited by Thomas Tyler" (David 
 Nutt, 1890) contains a thorough investigation of William Her- 
 bert's alleged connection with the Sonnets, together with a full 
 account of Mary Fitton, and an admirable commentary ; the argu- 
 ments throughout the volume are based on careful investigation ; 
 the present writer, though he cannot assent to the theory, cannot 
 withhold his recognition of the excellence of the book, 
 
 201
 
 Preface SONNETS 
 
 cated the First Folio Edition of Shakespeare's plays by 
 Heminge & Condell, in 1623 ; and it is there stated that 
 the two brothers prosecuted the plays and " their Authour 
 living with much favour." 
 
 Finally, it is alleged that Sonnets CXXXV., CXXXVL, 
 CXLIII.,. afford conclusive evidence that the poems were 
 addressed to '' Will'' 
 
 The case against Herbert. According to the Herbert- 
 ists the earliest date for any of the Sonnets must be 1 598 ; 
 but in that year Francis Meres refers to Shakespeare's 
 " sugred Sonnets among his private friends " ; it might 
 indeed be argued that the reference is not to the present 
 poems ; but Meres also refers to Shakespeare's pre-emi- 
 nence as a writer of comedies and tragedies, and instances 
 six plays in each department. In Sonnet XVI., however, 
 which Herbert's supporters assign to 1598, Shakespeare 
 alludes to his " pupil pen." Is it likely he would have 
 done so at that date ? 
 
 Again, in the Passionate Pilgrim, published in 1599, we 
 find Sonnets CXXXVIII. and CXLIV. Is it likely that 
 between the spring of 1598 (when Herbert, a youth of 
 eighteen, first came to town) and at latest some time in 
 1599 (when Jaggard piratically obtained what were prob- 
 ably two of the Sonnets that IMeres had referred to), 
 Shakespeare and young Herbert had not only become 
 friends, not only had their friendship ripened, but that the 
 drama of their friendship had developed to the point indi- 
 cated by the two Sonnets in question? 
 
 The first group of Sonnets (X.-XXVI.) link themselves 
 unmistakeably to the poems of '' Venus and Adonis " and 
 " Liicrece." How do the Herbertists account for Shake- 
 speare's strange return in 1598 to his earlier mood and 
 style ? 
 
 The alleged references to " JVill " as the name of the 
 favoured friend will not bear the test of examination. In 
 each case the writer may be quibbling with his own name, 
 
 203
 
 SONNETS Preface 
 
 or playing on " w/// " and " zvish'^ in true Elizabethan 
 fashion.* 
 
 There is, further, one small point worthy of note. 
 Shakespeare's pi'que at his friend's encouragement of an- 
 other poet would hardly have been justihable in the case 
 of Herbert. The poet Daniel, who had been Herbert's 
 tutor, and who was par excellence the poet of the Pem- 
 broke family, would have had the first place in his pupil's 
 affection. The Sonnets in question ceitainly give the im- 
 pression that Shakespeare was the first to receive en- 
 couragement from his patron, and that no other poet had 
 prior claims. 
 
 Over and above all these doubts, tending to weaken the 
 case of the Herbertists, there is the incontestable fact that 
 the assignment of the Sennets to Herbert gives the lie to 
 Shakespeare's protestations of whole-hearted and exclu- 
 sive devotion to his first patron, the Earl of Southampton, 
 and convicts the poet of time-serving insincerity. What, 
 then, becomes of his proud claim : — " No, Time, thou sJialt 
 not boast that I do cJiange? " 
 
 Southampton's claims. Henry Wriothesley w^as born 
 October 6, 1573. His father and brother both died be- 
 fore he had reached the age of twelve. After taking his 
 degree at Cambridge, 1589, he came to London and en- 
 tered Gray's Inn. He was the ward of Lord Burghley, 
 and might not inaptly be described as " a child of state," 
 brought up under the Queen. In 1593 Venus and Adonis 
 appeared with its dedication to the young Lord; in 1594 
 Lucrece was published with its noteworthy declaration : — 
 " What I have done is yours; what I have to do is yours; 
 being part in all I have, devoted yours.'' 
 
 About this timxC he became recognised as the patron of 
 
 * In the early comedies the quibble is often found, e.g. : — 
 "Silvia] What's your willf 
 Proteus] That I may compass yours. 
 Silvia] You have your wish; my will is ever this, etc." 
 
 Two Gentlemen, iv. 11. 
 
 203
 
 Preface SONNETS 
 
 learning and poetry {cp. Gabriel Harvey's Letter, with 
 Sonnet to Southampton 1593; Markham's Sir R. Gren- 
 z'ille, 1595; Peele's Anglorum Ferice, 1595; Florio's Dic- 
 tionary, 1596, etc.). In Sept., 1595, Southampton fell in 
 love with Elizabeth Vernon, the Earl of Essex's cousin ; 
 his love cost him the Queen's favour, and involved him in 
 a series of troubles. The marriage was hindered for 
 about three years. During this time he was probably 
 with Essex, as an unattached volunteer, at the attack at 
 Cadiz, and did brave service against the Spaniards ; ow- 
 ing, however, to false reports and misrepresentations, he 
 received, as his reward, blame, instead of praise from his 
 unfriendly Sovereign; on March 17, 1598, Cecil intro- 
 duced him, at Angers, to Henry IV., telling the King 
 that Lord Southampton " was come with deliberation to 
 do him service." His zeal was suddenly stopped by the 
 Peace of Vervins, concluded in April of the same year ; 
 towards the end of the year he returned, and secretly mar- 
 ried Elizabeth Vernon ; his career during the remainder 
 of the Queen's reign was fraught with misfortunes. He 
 absented himself from the Court, and we hear of him in 
 1599 as '' passing his time in London merely in going to 
 plays every day." His connexion with Essex's rebellion 
 nearly cost him his life : the death-sentence was com- 
 muted to perpetual imprisonment. His subsequent his- 
 tory under James I. does not directly concern us here ; 
 brief allusion must, however, be made to his release from 
 the Tower at the King's accession. " These bountiful be- 
 ginnings," wrote a contemporary, referring to the event, 
 '' raise all men's spirits and put them in great hopes." 
 There was universal joy; poets welcomed him with 
 verses ; notably Samuel Daniel, and John Davics of Here- 
 ford ; the panegyric of the former poet tells that : — 
 
 *' The world had never taken so full note 
 
 Of what thou art, hadst thou not been undone; 
 And only thy aiHiction hath begot 
 
 More fame, than thy best fortunes could have won": 
 
 204
 
 SONNETS Preface 
 
 while the latter, addressing the Earl, sings of the happy 
 change in men's affairs : — 
 
 " Then let 's be merry in our God and King, 
 That made us merry, being ill besfadd: 
 Southampton, up thy cap to Heaven iiing. 
 And on the viol their szveet praises sing; 
 For he is come tliat grace to all doth bring." 
 
 Whatever may have been men's feelings towards the 
 hapless Essex, it is certain that there was no little affec- 
 tionate sympathy for one at least of the fool-hardy rebels, 
 " covered long ivitJi the ashes of great Essex his ruins.'' 
 In their very jubilation there was silent disaoproval of the 
 Virgin Queen's petty tyranny towards her favourites. It 
 is a significant fact that Shakespeare uttered no word of 
 lament on the Queen's death ; Chettle, in his England's 
 Mourning Garment (1603), reproaclied him for his si- 
 lence : — 
 
 " Nor doth the silver tongued Melicert 
 
 Drop from his honied Muse one sable tear 
 To mourn her death that graced his desert 
 
 And to his laies opened her royall eare. 
 Shepherd, remember our Elizabeth 
 And sing her rape done by that Tarquin, Death." 
 
 Mr. Gerald Massey''' maintains that Sonnet CVII. was 
 Shakespeare's written gratulation, welcoming his friend 
 from " the gloom of a prison on his way to a palace, and 
 the smile of a monarch." ^According to this quasi-South- 
 amptonist, the eclipse of " the mortal moon '' is an allusion 
 to Elizabeth's death. The Herbertists. emphasising the 
 word '' endured'' rightly point out that the moon is imag-' 
 ined as having endured her eclipse, and come out none the 
 less bright, and refer the Sonnet to Essex's abortive at- 
 tempt. But certainly a better case can be made out for a 
 reference to the Peace of Vervins, 1598, which meant the 
 ruin of Philip's projects in France, and the assertion of 
 
 * " The Secret Drama of Sliakespeare's Sonnets," p. 333. 
 205
 
 Preface SONNETS 
 
 English supremacy at sea; by it all danger from Spain 
 quietly passed away : — 
 
 " Inccrfainties now crown themselves assur'd, 
 And peace proclaims olives of endless age" 
 
 For five years England had been forced to aid Henry 
 IV. with men and money, lest France might be turned 
 into a Spanish dependency ; it was indeed a time of " in- 
 certainties " for England. Shakespeare's Love's La- 
 lour 's Lost'^ reflects the popular interest in Henry's af- 
 fairs; while The Comedy of Errors (HI. ii. 125-127) 
 quibblingly alludes to France " armed and reverted, ma- 
 king zvar against her hair" (i.e. heir). 
 
 The " thralled discontent " of Sonnet CXXIV., which 
 the Herbertists assign to 1601 and refer to the severe 
 measures by which Essex's rebellion was put down, may 
 perhaps refer to the growing feelings of discontent which 
 were ultimately to find expression in insane revolt. 
 
 The whole Sonnet reads like a protestation on Shake- 
 speare's part ; though his friend, " the child of state," has 
 suffered Fortune's spite, f the poet's love, being no child of 
 state, fears no policy, and knows no change ; it is indif- 
 ferent alike to Fortune's smiles and Fortune's frowns. 
 
 This idea is continued in Sonnet CXXV. ; friendship is 
 founded neither on self-interest, nor on transitory at- 
 tractions. The poet resents the bare thought that he val- 
 ued pomp, grandeur and prosperity, and was merely a 
 " fair-weather " friend J : — 
 
 "No, let me be obsequious in thy heart. 
 And take thou my oblation, poor but free. 
 Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art. 
 But mutual render, only me for thee. 
 
 Hence, thou suhorn'd informer! a true soul 
 When most impeach'd stands least in thy control." 
 
 * Vide Preface to "Love's Labour 's Lost." 
 
 t On Nov. 22nd, 1598, Southampton returned from the Con- 
 tinent ; " for his welcome," we read, " he is committed to the 
 Fleet." 
 
 t Cp. Sonnet XXV. 
 
 206
 
 SONNETS Preface 
 
 The Herbertists explain the poem as Shakespeare's 
 apology for his defection from Southampton, " at this 
 time suffering imprisonment as a convicted rebel ! " 
 
 But in one of the Sonnets of the same group (CII.) the 
 poet definitely identifies the friend addressed with the pa- 
 tron of his early poems : — 
 
 " Our love was new, and then hut in the spring, 
 When I zvas wont to greet it with my lays " ; 
 
 while XXVI. almost echoes the Lucrece dedication. 
 
 According to the Southamptonites, Sonnets C- 
 CXXVL* belong to the year 1598 (the Peace of Vervins 
 was concluded in April ; Southampton was away from 
 February to November), Sonnet CIV. giving the period 
 of the whole series as ranging from 1595 at earliest. As 
 regards the interval between 'I.-XCIX. and C.-CXXVI., 
 and the dates of the smaller groups, theorists are not at 
 one. It is not unlikely that the first ninety-nine were 
 written during 1595 (before September) and 1596 (be- 
 fore August, when Shakespeare's little Hamnet died). 
 There would thus be a silence of about a year and a half, 
 before Shakespeare stirred up his " forgetful Muse." In 
 the interval some " vulgar scandal " had occurred, involv- 
 ing the poet's reputation, and to this he refers in CX.- 
 CXII. ; it is difficult to determine what this trouble actu- 
 ally was; the Oldcastle-Falstaff affair (z'ide Henry IV. 
 Preface) would certainly suit so far as the date (1597) is 
 concerned, but the matter seems to have been much more 
 serious. A somewhat stronger case could perhaps be 
 made out for the Herbertists' view, which connects the 
 scandal with " the quarrel known as the War of the the- 
 atres/' 1600-1. Neither theory will adequately explain 
 the tone of Sonnet CXXI. 
 
 As regards the first group of Sonnets (I. -XXVI.), 
 if they were written before Southampton had become 
 
 * Perhaps C.-CXXV. would be better ; the envoi CXXVI. was 
 perhaps originally the concluding poem of Sonnets I.-XCIX. 
 
 207
 
 Preface SONNETS 
 
 enamoured of Elizabeth Vernon, it is easy to understand 
 the omission of further reference to the marriage theme 
 in the subsequent Sonnets.* 
 
 Sonnets XL., XLIL, (and Section B. CXXVII.-CLII. 
 connected with them) must, according to the supporters 
 of Southampton's claim, be referred to 1595. In con- 
 nection with this early date it is perhaps fair to mention 
 a curious publication of the year 1594, entitled " Willobic 
 his Az'isa, or the true Picture of a Modest maid and of a 
 Chaste and Constant Life," which tells how a young mar- 
 ried woman, Avice, resists successively the wooing of a 
 Frenchman, an Anglo-German, and an " old player, IV. 
 S., who not long before tried the courtesy of the like pas- 
 sion " ; finally H. W. (" Italo Hispalensis ") becomes 
 infected with a fantastical fit, and consults W. S., who 
 gives him valuable advice. ■ There can be no doubt that 
 '' Henry Willobie's " alleged authorship is a literary hoax, 
 and that the publication contained matter of a satirical and 
 perhaps libellous nature ; hence in 1596 it was " called in " 
 with Hall's Satires and Cutwode's Caltha Poetarnrn. 
 " H. W." and " W. S.," suggestive of Henry Wriothesley 
 and WiUiam Shakespeare may of course be purely acci- 
 dental, but the coincidence is remarkable, and the evi- 
 dence, whatever its value, cannot be suppressed. It 
 should be added that there are prefatory lines in praise of 
 Az'isa, wherein Shakespeare, perhaps for the first time in 
 hterature, is referred to by name: — "And Shakespeare 
 points poor Lucrece's rape.'' Was this reference ironi- 
 cal ? t 
 
 "^^ Mr. Flea}\ however, holds that these Sonnets were written 
 after Southampton had met EHzabeth Vernon in 1595 (vide 
 "Chronicle History of the Drama," where Mr. Fleay's whole 
 theory is carefully elaborated ; though many a point here and there 
 is doubtful, the high value of the essay is incontestable). 
 
 fA reprint of Willohie is to be found among Dr. Grosart's 
 privately printed issues. The particular Chapter referred to above 
 is printed in the '' Shakespeare Allusion Book." (New Shak. 
 Soc.) 
 
 208
 
 SONNETS Preface 
 
 The Publisher's evidence. Initials are troublesome 
 ciphers. " H. W." and '* W. S." allure the readers of 
 " Willobie his Avisa " ; while " Mr. W. H." of the Dedi- 
 cation prefacing the Sonnets has afforded intellectual 
 exercise to generations of scholars. 
 
 Had the publisher been aware of the contentions of pos- 
 terity as to the history of the Sonnets, he could not, in a 
 diabolical mood, have invented a more protean dedication. 
 The Herbertists naturally interpret '' Air. W. H." as 
 standing for *' Mr. William Herbert (Earl of Pem- 
 broke)," and "begetter" as meaning '' inspirer " ; the 
 Southamptonites suggest that the publisher reversed the 
 initials of " Henry Wriothesley," so as to half-conceal his 
 connexion Avith the facts referred to in the Sonnets. 
 
 Others allege that '' begetter " is used in the sense of 
 " obtainer," '' procurer," '' dedicatee," and various dedi- 
 catees have been found answering the requirements of the 
 initials in question — William Hughes, William Hathaway, 
 William Hart, William Hervey (Southamoton's step- 
 father), and, actually, William Himself! " * 
 
 T. T. has set the world a conundrum, which will prob- 
 ably bring him immortal fame : as yet no solution has 
 been finally accepted. 
 
 Contemporary Sonnet Sequences. The date, 1594- 
 1598, would bring Shakespeare's Sonnets into line with 
 the chief Sonnet productions of the period : — Sidney's As- 
 trophcl and Stella, published 1591 ; Daniel's Delia, 1592; 
 Constable's Diana, 1592; Fletcher's Licia, 1593; Barnes' 
 PartJienophil, 1593; Drayton's Idea, 1594; Spenser's 
 
 * George Wither seems to have anticipated this stupendous dis- 
 covery, due to Germanic genius, when he inscribed his satires 
 thus: — " G JV. IJlshcfh Himself all happiness." 
 
 It has been suggested that Ben Jonson ostensibly alluded to 
 " T. T.'s " inscription, when he dedicated his Epigrams to the 
 Earl of Pembroke : — While you cannot change your merit, / dare 
 ■not change your title. . . . When I made them I had nothing 
 in my conscience to expressing of which I did need a cipher." 
 
 209
 
 Preface SONNETS 
 
 Arnorctti, 1594; Lodges Phillis, 1595; Chapman's Coro- 
 net for his Mistress Philosophy, 1595. It would certainly 
 seem that the writing of Love-Sonnets culminated in 
 1594-5.'^ As far as the form of his Sonnets is concerned, 
 Shakespeare seems to have been influenced by contempo- 
 rary sonneteers, and perhaps more especially by Daniel, in 
 abandoning the Petrarchan type, and building up his son- 
 net of three quatrains and a final couplet. Some critics 
 have censured Shakespeare for departing from the more 
 complex Italian type, but " the quest of the Shakespeare 
 Sonnet is not, like that of the sonnet of octave and sestet, 
 sonority, and so to speak, metrical counterpoint, but 
 sweetness ; and the sweetest of all possible arrangements 
 
 * Mr. Massey in his " Secret Drama of Shakespeare's Sonnets " 
 points out some striking reminiscences of Sidney's Astrophcl and 
 Stella (as well as of the Arcadia), more especially with refer- 
 ence to a number of the earliest sonnets. 
 
 Shalcespeare's Sonnets and the 1599 revised edition of Drayton's 
 Idea contain some remarkable parallel passages; it seems most 
 likely that Dra3'ton was the borrower. Mr. Tyler cannot detect 
 any allusion in Drayton's work to Sonnets C.-CXXVI. The fol- 
 lowing specimen of Drayton will best illustrate his debt : — 
 "An evil spirit your beauty haunts me still, 
 WherewitJi, alas, I have been long possest, 
 Which ceaseth not to tempt me vnto ill, 
 Nor gives me once hut one pore minutes rest 
 
 Thus am I still provok'd to every evil 
 By this good wicked spirit, siveet Angel-devil'' 
 Marston's Pigmalion's Image and Ccrtaine Satyres, published 
 in 1598, contains a passage strongly resembling Sonnet XXXII., 
 lines 10-14. ^nd more especially the words "^ To march in ranks 
 of better equipage; " Marston's lines speak of — 
 " Stansaes like odd bands 
 Of voluntaries and mcrcenarians: 
 Which like soldados of our ivarlike age, 
 March rich bedight in warlike equipage." 
 T cannot agree with Mr. Tyler that it may be maintained, with 
 confidence, that Marston's poem preceded Shakespeare's.
 
 SONNETS Preface 
 
 ill English versification is a succession of decasyllabic 
 quatrains in alternate rhymes knit together and clinched 
 by a couplet — a couplet coming not so far from the initial 
 verse as to lose its binding power, and yet not so near the 
 initial verse that the ring of epigram disturbs the ' linked 
 sweetness long drawn out ' of this movement, but suffi- 
 ciently near to shed its influence over the poem back to 
 the initial verse." 
 
 Enthusiasts for the Miltonic Sonnet, with its " observ- 
 ance of strict laws of composition/' condemn Shake- 
 speare's deviation from the stricter type, and declare that 
 " the so-called Sonnets " are not sonnets at all, but a con- 
 tinuous poem, or poems, written in fourteen-line stanzas : 
 but from the experimental days of Surrey and Wyatt the 
 form employed bv Shakespeare had been the favourite 
 sonnet-type of English poets. It were easy to combat 
 ]\Iark Pattison's bold pronouncement, that " the example 
 of Shakespeare, and the veneration due to that mighty 
 name, has exercised a misleading influence on our son- 
 netists." Milton's exaltation implies no rivalry with 
 Shakespeare — theirs are " two glory-smitten summits of 
 the poetic mountain." 
 
 " The tongue of England, that ivhich myriads 
 Have spoken and zuill speak, were paralyzed 
 Hereafter, hut two mighty men stand forth 
 Above the flight of ages, two alone; 
 One crying out, 
 
 2tn nation? j^pofee tjjto* me 
 'The other: 
 
 (Crue ; anb tftro' t\)\i trumpet burst 
 (JBob'^ ttorb; tbe U\\ of Pinocle, anb tbe boom 
 ifirgt of immortal, rljen of mortal, man ; 
 ibitKiS I ^^ aiot?I not to mc, to <I5ob." 
 
 211
 
 SONNETS 
 
 ANALYSIS OF THE ** SONNETS." 
 
 : i.-cxxvi. 
 
 ■xxvi. 
 
 A.— "THE BETTER ANGEL 
 I. LOVE'S ADORATION: i 
 
 Beauty and good- ^ !" !l^^ ^^A^y'^'^'^^l"^'''' ^''^^^^^ 
 ness must live on 
 
 Love in 
 Absence. 
 
 (a) 
 
 The bitterness 
 of absence 
 (xxvii.-xxxii.) 
 
 (b) Love's first disil- 
 lusion i n g 
 (xxxiii.-xlii.) 
 
 (c) Love's longings 
 and prophetic 
 fears (xliii- 
 Iv.) 
 
 in the poet's verse (xvii.-xxv.) 
 
 Envoy (xxvi.) 
 Interval. 
 I. LOVE'S TRIALS: xxviu-xcix. 
 
 The sense of loss (xxvii., xxviii.) 
 
 ( The Poet's outcast state 
 
 Night-Thoughts \ (xxix.) 
 
 ' Bereavements (xxx.) 
 
 Love dispels the gloom (xxix.-xxxi.) 
 ^ Envoy (xxxii.) 
 
 Interval. 
 
 " He was but one hour mine " (xxxiii.) 
 
 Love's excuses (xxxv,, xli.) 
 
 Love's self-disparagement (xxxvi., xxxvii.) 
 
 Love's willing pain (xxxviii.) 
 
 Love's self-denial (xxxix.-xl.) 
 
 The gain of loss (xlii.) 
 
 Forgiveness. 
 
 ( ?) Envoy (xlii.) 
 
 Interval. 
 
 { Love-longing (xliii.-xlvii.) 
 Fears (xlviii.) 
 Self-abasement (xlix.) 
 The journey from, contrasted with journey 
 
 to, his friend (1., li.) 
 The pleasures of hope (Hi.) 
 The pleasures of imagination (liii.) 
 Love's assurance (liv.) 
 
 Envoy (Iv.) 
 
 212
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Analysis 
 
 (d) Love's growing 
 distrust and 
 melancholy'' 
 (Ivi.-lxxv.) 
 
 (e) Love's jealousy 
 (Ixxv.-xcvi.) ■ 
 
 (/) Love's farewell 
 tribute (xcvii.- 
 xcix.) 
 
 interval. 
 Love must watch and wait and believe (Ivi.- 
 
 Iviii.) 
 Despite ancient doctrines (lix.-lx.) 
 Nevertheless distrustful thoughts arise 
 
 Introspection and self-accusation (Ixii.- 
 
 Ixiii.) 
 Melancholy thoughts (Ixiv.-lxvii ; Ixxi.- 
 
 Ixxiii.) 
 The beloved's beauty redeems the world 
 
 (Ixix.) 
 Detractors are slanderers (Ixx.) 
 The solace of poetry (Ixxiv.) 
 
 Envoy (Ixxv.) 
 Interval. 
 The Poet's reply to his critics (Ixxvi., 
 
 Ixxvii.) 
 Alien pens (Ixxviii.) 
 The rival poet (Ixxix.-lxxxvi.) 
 The poet's rude awakening (Ixxxvii.) 
 His devotion constant, though mutual love 
 
 at an end (Ixxxviii., Ixxxix.) 
 He longs for the full force of Fortune's 
 
 spite (xc.) 
 The possession of his friend's love alone 
 
 made him truly fortunate (xci.) 
 Happily, its loss means loss of life (xcii.) 
 But he must not deceive himself, 
 A sweet face may harbour false thoughts 
 
 (xciii.) 
 'Tis a sign of greatness to be self-contained 
 
 (xciv.) 
 But the great must beware of corruption 
 
 (xcv.) 
 Beauty and grace cannot alwa3's transfigure 
 
 vice (xcv.) 
 
 Envoy (xcvi.) 
 Interval. 
 Absence in Summer and Autumn (xcvii.) 
 Absence in Spring (xcviii.) 
 
 Envoy (xcix.) 
 213 
 
 Love in 
 Absence
 
 Analysis 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Interval of a year or two. 
 III. LOVE'S TRIUMPH : c.-cxxvi. 
 
 The re-awakening (c.) 
 
 Time cannot change the be- 
 loved (civ.) 
 
 Chivalrous poetry prophetic of 
 his friend (cvi.) 
 
 Love finds new conceits (cviii.) 
 
 Love and pity (cxii.) 
 
 Love grows stronger through 
 error (cxv.) 
 
 Error tests friendship (cxvii.- 
 cxix.) 
 
 The Poet rebuts malicious 
 charges (cxxi.) 
 
 The Poet's love not "the child 
 of state" (cxxiv.) 
 
 The Poet's silence (cii.-ciii.) 
 The Poet's eulogies (cv.) 
 Love survives ill-forebodings 
 
 (cvii.) 
 The Poet's confessions (cix.- 
 
 cxi.) 
 Love's imaginings (cxiii., cxiv.) 
 Love superior to dangers and 
 
 trials (cxvi.) 
 Still apologetic (cxx.-cxxii.) 
 Love conquers Time (cxxiii.) 
 The Poet resents the calumny 
 
 of being a time-server 
 
 cxxv.) 
 
 Envoy (cxxvi.) 
 
 B.— "THE WORSER SPIRIT": cxxviK-clii. 
 
 (Cp. xxxiH.'xlii.) 
 
 C— "LOVE'S FIRE": cliii.-cliv. 
 
 214
 
 SONNETS.
 
 TO . THE . ONLIE . BEGETTER . OP 
 
 THESE . INSVING . SONNETS . 
 
 M'. W. H. ALL . HAPPINESSE . 
 
 AND . THAT . ETERNITIfi . 
 
 PROMISED . 
 
 BY. 
 
 OVR . EVER-LIVING . POET . 
 
 WISHETH . 
 
 THE . WELI^WISHING . 
 
 ADVENTVRER . IN . 
 
 SETTING . 
 
 FORTH . 
 
 T.T.;
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 I 
 
 From fairest creatures we desire increase, 
 That thereby beauty's rose might never die, 
 But as the riper should by time decease, 
 His tender heir might bear his memory : 
 But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, 5 
 
 Feed'st thy Hght's flame with self-substantial fuel, 
 Making a famine where abundance lies. 
 Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. 
 Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament 
 And only herald to the gaudy spring, lo 
 
 Within thine own bud buriest thy content 
 And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding. 
 Pity the world, or else this glutton be. 
 To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee. 
 
 II 
 
 When forty winters shall besiege thy brow ^ 
 
 And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, 
 
 Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now, 
 
 W^ill be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held: 
 
 Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, 5 
 
 Where all the treasure of thy lusty days. 
 
 To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes, 
 
 WevG an all-eating shame and thriftless praise. 
 
 How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use, 
 
 If thou couldst answer ' This fair child of mine lo 
 
 Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,' 
 
 Proving his beauty by succession thine! 
 
 This were to be new made when thou art old. 
 And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold. 
 
 217
 
 III. and IV, SONNETS 
 
 III 
 
 Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest 
 Now is the time that face should form another; 
 Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, 
 Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. 
 For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb 5 
 
 Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry ? 
 Or who is he so fond will be the tomb 
 Of his self-love, to stop posterity? 
 Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee 
 Calls back the lovely April of her prime : 10 
 
 So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, 
 Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time. 
 But if thou live, remember'd not to be. 
 Die single, and thine image dies with thee. 
 
 IV 
 
 Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend 
 
 Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy? 
 
 Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, 
 
 And being frank, she lends to those are free. 
 
 Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse 5 
 
 The bounteous largess given thee to give? 
 
 Profitless usurer, why dost thou use * 
 
 So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live? 
 
 For having traf^c with thyself alone. 
 
 Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive. 10 
 
 Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone, 
 
 What acceptable audit canst thou leave? 
 
 Thy unused beauty nuist be tomb'd with thee, 
 
 Which, used, lives th' executor to be. 
 
 218
 
 SONNETS V. and VI. 
 
 Those hours that with gentle work did frame 
 
 The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, 
 
 Will play the tyrants to the very same 
 
 And that unfair which fairly doth excel : 
 
 For never-resting time leads summer on 5 
 
 To hideous winter and confounds him there; 
 
 Sap check'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone, 
 
 Beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where: 
 
 Then, were not summer's distillation left, 
 
 A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, 10 
 
 Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft. 
 
 Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was : 
 
 But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet, 
 Leese but their show ; their substance still lives sweet. 
 
 VI 
 
 Then let not winter's ragged hand deface 
 
 In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd : 
 
 Make sweet some vial ; treasure thou some place 
 
 With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd. 
 
 That use is not forbidden usury, 5 
 
 Which happies those that pay the willing loan ; 
 
 That 's for thyself to breed another thee. 
 
 Or ten times happier, be it ten for one ; 
 
 Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, 
 
 If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: 10 
 
 Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart, 
 
 Leaving thee living in posterity ? 
 
 Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair 
 
 To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir. 
 
 219
 
 VII. and VIII. SONNETS 
 
 VII 
 
 Lo, in the orient when the gracious Hght 
 
 Lifts up his burning head, each under eye 
 
 Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, 
 
 Serving with looks his sacred majesty; 
 
 And having cHmb'd the steep-up heavenly hill, 5 
 
 Resembling strong youth in his middle age, 
 
 Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, 
 
 Attending on his golden pilgrimage; 
 
 But when from highmost pitch, with weary car, 
 
 Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, 10 
 
 The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are 
 
 From his low tract, and look another way : 
 So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon, 
 Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? 
 
 Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy. 
 
 Why lovest thou that which thou receivest not gladly. 
 
 Or else receivest with pleasure thine annoy? 
 
 If the true concord of well tuned sounds, 5 
 
 By unions married, do offend thine ear. 
 
 They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds 
 
 In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. 
 
 Mark how one string, sweet husband to another. 
 
 Strikes each in each by mutual ordering ; 10 
 
 Resembling sire and child and happy mother, 
 
 Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing: 
 
 Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one, 
 Sings this to thee : ' Thou single wilt prove none.'
 
 SONNETS IX. and X. 
 
 IX 
 
 Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye 
 
 That thou consumest thyself in single life? 
 
 Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die, 
 
 The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife ; 
 
 The world wall be thy widow, and still weep 5 
 
 That thou no form of thee hast left behind, 
 
 When every private widow well may keep 
 
 By children's eyes her husband's shape in mind. 
 
 Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend 
 
 Shifts but his place, for still the w^orld enjoys it; lo 
 
 But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, 
 
 And kept unused, the user so destroys it. 
 
 No love toward others in that bosom sits 
 
 That on himself such murderous shame commits. 
 
 X 
 
 For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any 
 
 Vv'ho for thyself art so unprovident. 
 
 Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many. 
 
 But that thou none lovest is most evident; 
 
 For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate 5 
 
 That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire, 
 
 Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate 
 
 Which to repair should be thy chief desire. 
 
 O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind! 
 
 Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? 10 
 
 Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind. 
 
 Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove: 
 Make thee another self, for love of me, 
 That beauty still may live in thine or thee. 
 
 221
 
 XI. and XIL SONNETS 
 
 XI 
 
 As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st 
 In one of thine, from that which thou departest; 
 And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st 
 Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest. 
 Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase ; 5 
 
 Without this, folly, age and cold decay : 
 If all were minded so, the times should cease 
 And threescore year would make the world away. 
 Let those whom Nature hath not made for store. 
 Harsh, featureless and rude, barrenly perish: 10 
 
 Look, whom she best endow'd she gave the more ; 
 Which bounteous gift thou should'st in bounty cherish : 
 She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby 
 Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die. 
 
 XII 
 
 When I do count the clock that tells the time, 
 
 And see the brave day sunk in hideous night ; 
 
 When I behold the violet past prime. 
 
 And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white; 
 
 When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, 5 
 
 Which erst from heat did canopy the herd. 
 
 And summer's green all girded up in sheaves. 
 
 Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard. 
 
 Then of thy beauty do I question make. 
 
 That thou among the wastes of time must go, 10 
 
 Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake 
 
 And die as fast as they see others grow ; 
 
 And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence 
 Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence. 
 222
 
 SONNETS XIII. and XIV. 
 
 XIII 
 
 O, that you were yourself! but, love, you are 
 
 No longer yours than you yourself here live: 
 
 Against this coming end you should prepare. 
 
 And your sweet semblance to some other give. 
 
 So should that beauty which you hold in lease 5 
 
 Find no determination; then you were 
 
 Yourself again, after yourself's decease. 
 
 When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear. 
 
 Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, 
 
 Which husbandry in honour might uphold 10 
 
 Against the stormy gusts of winter's day 
 
 And barren rage of death's eternal cold? 
 
 O, none but unthrifts: dear my love, you know 
 You had a father; let your son say so. 
 
 XIV 
 
 Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck; 
 And yet methinks I have astronomy. 
 But not to tell of good or evil luck, 
 Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; 
 Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, 5 
 
 Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wdnd. 
 Or say with princes if it shall go well. 
 By oft predict that I in heaven find: 
 But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, 
 And, constant stars, in them I read such art, 10 
 
 As truth and beauty shall together thrive, 
 If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert ; 
 Or else of thee this I prognosticate: 
 Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date. 
 
 223
 
 XV. and XVI. SONNETS 
 
 XV 
 
 When I consider every thing that grows 
 Holds in perfection but a Httle moment, 
 
 That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows 
 W^hereon the stars ni secret influence comment; 
 When I perceive that men as plants increase, 5 
 
 Cheered and check'd even by the self-same sky, 
 Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, 
 And wear their brave state out of memory; 
 Then the conceit of this inconstant stay 
 Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, lo 
 
 Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay, 
 To change your day of youth to sullied night; 
 And all in war with Time for love of you, 
 As he takes from you, I engraft you new. 
 
 XVI 
 
 But wherefore do not you a mightier way 
 
 Alake war upon this bloody tyrant, Time? 
 
 And fortify yourself in your decay 
 
 With means more blessed than thy barren rhyme? 
 
 Now stand you on the top of happy hours, 5 
 
 And many maiden gardens, yet unset, 
 
 \Mth virtuous wish would bear your living flowers 
 
 Much liker than your painted counferfeit : 
 
 So should the lines of hfe that Hfe repair. 
 
 Which this. Time's pencil, or my pupil pen, 10 
 
 Neither in inward worth nor outward fair, 
 
 Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. 
 
 To give away yourself keeps yourself still; 
 
 And vou must live, drawn bv vour own sweet skiH.
 
 SONNETS XVII. and XVIIL 
 
 XVII 
 
 Who will believe my verse in time to come, 
 
 If it were fiU'd with your most high deserts? 
 
 Thoug-h yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb 
 
 Which hides your life and shows not half your parts. 
 
 If I could write the beauty of your eyes 5 
 
 And in fresh numbers number all your graces, 
 
 The age to come would say ' This poet lies; 
 
 Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.' 
 
 So should my papers, yellowed with their age. 
 
 Be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue, lo 
 
 And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage 
 
 And stretched metre of an antique song: 
 
 But were some child of yours alive that time. 
 You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 
 
 Thou art more lovely and more temperate: 
 
 Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 
 
 And summer's lease hath all too short a date: 
 
 Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, 5 
 
 And often is his gold complexion dimm'd ; 
 
 And every fair from fair sometime declines. 
 
 By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; 
 
 But thy eternal summer shall not fade, 
 
 Xor lose possession of that fair thou owest; lo 
 
 Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade. 
 
 When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: 
 
 So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see. 
 So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 
 
 225
 
 XIX. and XX. SONNETS 
 
 XIX 
 
 Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, 
 
 And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; 
 
 Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, 
 
 And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood; 
 
 Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st, 5 
 
 And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, 
 
 To the wide world and all her fading sweets ; 
 
 But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: 
 
 O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, 
 
 Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; lo 
 
 Him in thy course untainted do allow 
 
 For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. 
 
 Yet do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong, 
 My love shall in my verse ever live young. 
 
 XX 
 
 A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted 
 
 Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; 
 
 A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted 
 
 With shifting change, as is false women's fashion; 
 
 An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, 5 
 
 Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth ; 
 
 A man in hue, all ' hues ' in his controlling, 
 
 AVhich steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth. 
 
 And for a woman wert thou first created; 
 
 Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, 10 
 
 And bv addition me of thee defeated. 
 
 By adding one thing to mv purpose nothing. 
 
 But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure, 
 Mine be thy love, and thy love's use their treasure. 
 
 226 
 
 #
 
 SONNETS XXI. and XXII. 
 
 XXI 
 
 So is it not with me as with that Muse 
 
 Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse, 
 
 Who heaven itself for ornament doth use 
 
 And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, 
 
 Making a couplement of proud compare, 5 
 
 With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems. 
 
 With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare 
 
 That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems. 
 
 O, let me, true in love, but truly write. 
 
 And then beUeve me, my love is as fair 10 
 
 As any mother's child though not so bright 
 
 As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air : 
 
 Let them say more that Hke of hearsay well; 
 
 I will not praise, that purpose not to sell. 
 
 XXII 
 
 My glass shall not persuade me I am old. 
 
 So long as youth and thou are of one date ; 
 
 And when in thee time's furrows I behold. 
 
 Then look I death my days should expiate. 
 
 For all that beauty that doth cover thee 5 
 
 Is but the seemly raiment of my heart. 
 
 Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: 
 
 How can I then be elder than thou art? 
 
 O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary 
 
 As I, not for myself, but for thee will ; 10 
 
 Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary 
 
 As tender nurse her babe from faring ill. 
 
 Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain 
 Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again. 
 227
 
 XXIII. and XXIV. SONNETS 
 
 XXIII 
 
 As an unperfect actor on the stage, 
 Who with his fear is put besides his part, 
 Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, 
 Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart; 
 So I, for fear of trust, forget to say 3 
 
 The perfect ceremony of love's rite. 
 And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, 
 O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might. 
 O, let my books be then the eloquence 
 And dumb presagers of my speaking breast; 10 
 
 Who plead for love, and look for recompense. 
 More than that tongue that more hath more express'd. 
 O, learn to read what silent love hath writ: 
 To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd 
 
 Thy beauty's form in table of my heart ; 
 
 My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, 
 
 And perspective it is best painter's art. 
 
 For through the painter must you see his skill, 5 
 
 To find where your true image pictured lies ; 
 
 Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, 
 
 That hath his windovv^s glazed with thine eyes. 
 
 Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done : 
 
 Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me 10 
 
 Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun 
 
 Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; 
 
 Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, 
 They draw but what they see, know not the heart. 
 228
 
 SONNETS XXV. and XXVI. 
 
 XXV 
 
 Let those who are in favour with their stars 
 
 Of public honour and proud titles boast, 
 
 Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, 
 
 Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most. 
 
 Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread 5 
 
 But as the marigold at the sun's eye. 
 
 And in themselves their pride lies buried, 
 
 For at a frown they in their glory die. 
 
 The painful warrior famoused for fight, 
 
 After a thousand victories once foil'd, 10 
 
 Is from the book of honour razed quite, 
 
 And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd: 
 Then happy I, that love and am beloved 
 Where I may not remove nor be removed. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage 
 
 Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit. 
 
 To thee I send this written ambassage. 
 
 To witness duty, not to show my wit: 
 
 Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine 5 
 
 May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it, 
 
 But that I hope some good conceit of thine 
 
 In thy soul's thought, all naked will bestow it; 
 
 Till whatsoever star that guides my moving. 
 
 Points on me graciously with fair aspect, 10 
 
 And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving. 
 
 To show me worthy of thy sweet respect: 
 
 Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee ; 
 
 Till then not show my head where thou mayst 
 prove me. 
 
 229
 
 XXVll. and XXVIII. SONNETS 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, 
 The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; 
 But then begins a journey in my head, 
 To work my mind, when body's work 's expired : 
 For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, 5 
 
 Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, 
 And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, 
 Looking on darkness which the blind do see : 
 Save that my soul's imaginary sight 
 
 Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, lO 
 
 Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night. 
 Makes black night beauteous and her old face new. 
 Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, 
 For thee and for myself no quiet find. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 How can I then return in happy plight, 
 
 That am debarr'd the benefit of rest ? 
 
 When day's oppression is not eased by night. 
 
 But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd? 
 
 And each, though enemies to cither's reign, 5 
 
 Do in consent shake hands to torture me ; 
 
 The one by toil, the other to complain 
 
 How far I toil, still farther off from thee. 
 
 I tell the' day, to please him thou art bright. 
 
 And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven: 10 
 
 So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night; 
 
 When sparkHng stars twire not thou gild'st the even. 
 But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, 
 And night doth nightly make grief's strength seem 
 stronger. 
 
 230
 
 SONNETS XXIX. and XXX. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, 
 
 I all alone beweep my outcast state, 
 
 And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, 
 
 And look upon myself, and curse my fate. 
 
 Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, 5 
 
 Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, 
 
 Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, 
 
 With what I most enjoy contented least; 
 
 Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising. 
 
 Haply I think on thee, and then my state, lo 
 
 Like to the lark at break of day arising 
 
 From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate ; 
 
 For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings 
 That then I scorn to change my state with kings. 
 
 XXX 
 
 When to the sessions of sweet silent thought 
 
 I summon up remembrance of things past, 
 
 I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, 
 
 And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: 
 
 Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, 5 
 
 For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, 
 
 And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, 
 
 And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight : 
 
 Then can I grieve at grievances foregone. 
 
 And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er lo 
 
 The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, 
 
 Which I new pay as if not paid before. 
 
 But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, 
 All losses are restored and sorrows end. 
 
 231
 
 XXXI. and XXXII. SONNETS 
 
 XXXI 
 
 Thy bosom is endeared with aU hearts, 
 Which I by lacking have supposed dead; 
 And there reigns love, and all love's loving parts, 
 And all those friends which I thought buried. 
 How many a holy and obsequious tear 5 
 
 Hath dear religious love stoFn from mine eye, 
 As interest of the dead, which now appear 
 But things removed that hidden in thee lie! 
 Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, 
 Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, lO 
 
 Who all their parts of me to thee did give: 
 That due of many now is thine alone; 
 Their images I loved I view in thee, 
 And thou, all they, hast all the all of me. 
 
 XXXH 
 
 If thou survive my w^ell-contented day, 
 
 When that churl Death my bones wdth dust shall cover, 
 
 And shalt by fortune once more re-survey 
 
 These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, 
 
 Compare them with the bettering of the time, 5 
 
 And though they be outstripp'd by every pen, 
 
 Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme. 
 
 Exceeded by the height of happier men. 
 
 O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought : 
 
 ' Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, lO 
 
 A dearer birth than this his lo\*e Sad brought, 
 
 To march in ranks of better equipage: 
 
 But since he died, and poets better prove, 
 Theirs for their style I '11 read, his for his love.' 
 
 232
 
 SONNETS XXXIII. and XXXIV. 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Full many a glorious morning have I seen 
 
 Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, 
 
 Kissing with golden face the meadows green, 
 
 Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; 
 
 Anon permit the basest clouds to ride 5 
 
 \\'ith ugly rack on his celestial face, 
 
 And from the forlorn world his visage hide, 
 
 Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace : 
 
 Even so my sun one early morn did shine 
 
 With all-triumphant splendour on my brow ; 10 
 
 But, out, alack! he was but one hour mine. 
 
 The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. 
 
 Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; 
 
 Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun 
 staineth. 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day. 
 
 And make me travel forth without my cloak, 
 
 To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, 
 
 Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke ? 
 
 'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, 5 
 
 To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, 
 
 For no man well of such a salve can speak 
 
 That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace : 
 
 Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; 
 
 Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: 10 
 
 The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief 
 
 To him that bears the strong offence's cross. 
 
 Ah, but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, 
 And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds, 
 
 233
 
 XXXV. and XXXVI. SONNETS 
 
 XXXV 
 
 No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: 
 
 Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; 
 
 Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, 
 
 And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. 
 
 All men make faults, and even I in this, 5 
 
 Authorizing thy trespass with compare, 
 
 Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss. 
 
 Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are; 
 
 For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense — 
 
 Thy adverse party is thy advocate — 10 
 
 And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence: 
 
 Such civil war is in my love and hate, 
 That I an accessary needs must be 
 To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 Let me confess that we two must be twain, 
 Although our undivided loves are one: 
 So shall those blots that do with me remain, 
 Without thy help, by me be borne alone. 
 In our two loves there is but one respect, 5 
 
 Though in our lives a separable spite, 
 Which though it alter not love's sole effect, 
 Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight. 
 I may not evermore acknowledge thee. 
 Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, lO 
 
 Nor thou with public kindness honour me. 
 Unless thou take that honour from thy name: 
 But do not so; I love thee in such sort, 
 As thou being mine, mine is thy good report, 
 
 234
 
 SONNETS XXXVII. and XXXVIII. 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 As a decrepit father takes delight 
 
 To see his active child do deeds of youth, 
 
 So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite, 
 
 Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth: 
 
 For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit, 5 
 
 Or any of these all, or all, or more, 
 
 Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit, 
 
 I make my love engrafted to this store: 
 
 So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised. 
 
 Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give lo 
 
 That I in thy abundance am sufficed 
 
 And by a part of all thy glory live. 
 
 Look, what is best, that best I wish in thee : 
 This wish I have; then ten times happy me! 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 How can my Muse want subject to invent, 
 
 While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse 
 
 Thine own sweet argument, too excehent 
 
 For every vulgar paper to rehearse? 
 
 O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me 5 
 
 Worthy perusal stand against thy sight; 
 
 For who 's so dumb that cannot write to thee. 
 
 When thou thyself dost give invention light? 
 
 Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth 
 
 Than those old nine which rhymers invocate; lO 
 
 And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth 
 
 Eternal numbers to outlive long date. 
 
 If my slight Muse do please these curious days, 
 The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise. 
 
 235
 
 XXXIX. and XL. SONNETS 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, 
 When thou art all the better part of me? 
 What can mine own praise to mine own self bring ? 
 And what is 't but mine own when I praise thee? 
 Even for this let us divided live, 5 
 
 And our dear love lose name of single one, 
 That by this separation I may give 
 That due to thee which thou deservest alone. 
 O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove. 
 Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave 10 
 
 To entertain the time with thoughts of love. 
 Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive, 
 And that thou teachest how to make one twain. 
 By praising him. here who doth hence remain ! 
 
 XL 
 
 Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all, 
 
 What hast thou then more than thou hadst before ? 
 
 No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call ; 
 
 All mine was thine before thou hadst this more. 
 
 Then, if for my love thou my love receivest, 5 
 
 I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest; 
 
 But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest 
 
 By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. 
 
 I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief. 
 
 Although thou steal thee all my poverty; 10 
 
 And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief 
 
 To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury. 
 Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows. 
 Kill me with spites ; yet we must not be foes. 
 
 236
 
 SONNETS XLI. and XLII. 
 
 XLI 
 
 Those pretty wrongs that hberty commits, 
 When I am sometime absent from thy heart, 
 Thy beauty and thy years fuh well befits, 
 For still temptation follows where thou art. 
 Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, 5 
 
 Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; 
 And when a woman woos, what woman's son 
 Will sourly leave her till she have prevailed? 
 Ay me ! but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, 
 And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth, lO 
 
 Who lead thee in their riot even there 
 Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth. 
 Hers, by thy beaut}^ tempting her to thee. 
 Thine, by thy beauty being false to me. 
 
 XLII 
 
 That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, 
 
 And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; 
 
 That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, 
 
 A loss in love that touches me more nearly. 
 
 Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye: 5 
 
 Thou dost love her, because thou know'st I love her ; 
 
 And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, 
 
 Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her. 
 
 If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, 
 
 And losing her, my friend hath found that loss; lo 
 
 Both find each other, and I lose both twain, 
 
 And both for my sake lay on me this cross : 
 
 But here 's the joy: my friend and I are one; 
 
 Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone. 
 
 2^7
 
 XLIII. and XLIV. SONNETS 
 
 XLIII 
 
 When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, 
 For all the day they view things unrespected; 
 But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, 
 And, darkly bright, are bright in dark directed. 
 Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright, 5 
 • How would thy shadow's form form happy show 
 To the clear day with thy much clearer light, 
 When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! 
 How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made 
 By looking on thee in the living day, 10 
 
 When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade 
 Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay! 
 All days are nights to see till I see thee. 
 And nights bright days when dreams do show thee 
 me. 
 
 XLIV 
 
 If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, 
 Injurious distance should not stop my way; 
 For then, despite of space, I would be brought, 
 From limits far remote, where thou dost stay. 
 No matter then although my foot did stand 5 
 
 Upon the farthest earth removed from thee; 
 For nimble thought can jump both sea and land, 
 As soon as think the place where he would be. 
 But, ah, thought kills me, that I am not thought, 
 To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone, 10 
 But that, so much of earth and water wrought, 
 I must attend time's leisure with my moan ; 
 Receiving nought by elements so slow 
 But heavy tears, badges of cither's woe. 
 
 238
 
 SONNETS XLV. and XLVI. 
 
 » 
 
 XLV 
 
 The other two, slight air and purging fire, 
 
 Are both with thee, wherever I abide; 
 
 The first my thought, the other my desire, 
 
 These present-absent with swift motion shde. 
 
 For when these quicker elements are gone 5 
 
 In tender embassy of love to thee. 
 
 My life, being made of four, with two alone 
 
 Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy; 
 
 Until life's composition be recured 
 
 By those swift messengers return'd from thee, lo 
 
 Who even but now come back again, assured 
 
 Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: 
 
 This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, 
 
 I send them back again and straight grow sad. 
 
 XLVI 
 
 Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war, 
 
 How to divide the conquest of thy sight; 
 
 Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar, 
 
 My heart mine eye the freedom of that right. 
 
 My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie, 5 
 
 A closet never pierced with crystal eyes. 
 
 But the defendant doth that plea deny, 
 
 And says in him thy fair appearance lies. 
 
 To 'cide this title is impanneled 
 
 A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart ; 10 
 
 And by their verdict is determined 
 
 The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part: 
 As thus; mine eye's due is thine outward part. 
 And my heart's right thine inward love of heart. 
 
 239
 
 XLVII. and XLVIII. SONNETS 
 
 XL VI I 
 
 Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, 
 And each doth good turns now unto the other: 
 When that mine eye is famish'd for a look, 
 Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother, 
 With my love's picture then my eye doth feast 5 
 
 And to the painted banquet bids my heart; 
 Another time mine eye is my heart's guest 
 And in his thoughts of love doth share a part : 
 So, either by thy picture or my love, 
 Thyself away art present still with me : 10 
 
 For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, 
 And I am still with them and they with thee; 
 Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight 
 ' Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight. 
 
 XLVIII 
 
 How careful was I, when I took my way, 
 
 Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, 
 
 That to my use it might unused stay 
 
 From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! 
 
 But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, 5 
 
 Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief. 
 
 Thou, best of dearest and mine only care, 
 
 Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. 
 
 Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest, 
 
 Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, 10 
 
 Within the gentle closure of my breast, 
 
 From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part; 
 And even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear, 
 For truth- proves thievish for a prize so dear. 
 
 240
 
 SONNETS XLIX. and L. 
 
 XLIX 
 
 Against that time, if ever that time come, 
 
 When I shall see thee frown on my defects. 
 
 When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, 
 
 Call'd to that audit by advised respects ; 
 
 Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass, 5 
 
 And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye. 
 
 When love, converted from the thing it was, 
 
 Shall reasons find of settled gravity; 
 
 Against that time do I ensconce me here 
 
 Within the knowledge of mine own desert, 10 
 
 And this my hand against myself uprear, 
 
 To guard the lawful reasons on thy part : 
 
 To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws. 
 Since why to love I can allege no cause. 
 
 How heavy do I journey on the way. 
 
 When what I seek, my weary travel's end. 
 
 Doth teach that ease and that repose to say, 
 
 ' Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend! ' 
 
 The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, 5 
 
 Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me. 
 
 As if by some instinct the wretch did know 
 
 His rider loved not speed, being- made from thee : 
 
 The bloody spur cannot provoke him on 
 
 That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide ; 10 
 
 Which heavily he answers with a groan, 
 
 More sharp to me than spurring to his side; 
 
 For that same groan doth put this in my mind ; 
 
 My grief lies onward, and my joy behind. 
 
 241
 
 LI. and LII. SONNETS 
 
 LI 
 
 Thus can my love excuse the slow offence 
 
 Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: 
 
 From where thou art why should I haste me thence? 
 
 Till I return, of posting is no need. 
 
 O, what excuse will my poor beast then find, 5 
 
 When swift extremity can seem but slow? 
 
 Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind, 
 
 In winged speed no motion shall I know : 
 
 Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; 
 
 Therefore desire, of perfect'st love being made, 10 
 
 Shall neigh — no dull flesh — in his fiery race; 
 
 But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade; 
 
 Since from thee going he went wilful-slow, 
 Towards thee I '11 run and give him leave to go. 
 
 LII 
 
 So am I as the rich, whose blessed key 
 
 Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, 
 
 The which he will not every hour survey. 
 
 For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. 
 
 Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, 5 
 
 Since, seldom coming, in the long year set. 
 
 Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, 
 
 Or captain jewels in the carcanet. 
 
 So is the time that keeps you as my chest, 
 
 Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, 10 
 
 To make some special instant special blest, 
 
 By new unfolding his imprison'd pride. 
 
 Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope, 
 Being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope. 
 
 242
 
 SONNETS LIII. and LIV. 
 
 LIU 
 
 What is your substance, whereof are you made, 
 
 That milHons of strange shadows on you tend? 
 
 Since every one hath, every one, one shade, 
 
 And you, but one, can every shadow lend. 
 
 Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit 5 
 
 Is poorly imitated after you ; 
 
 On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set. 
 
 And you in Grecian tires are painted new: 
 
 Speak of the spring and foison of the year, 
 
 The one doth shadow of your beauty show, 10 
 
 The other as your bounty doth appear; 
 
 And you in every blessed shape we know. 
 
 In all external grace you have some part. 
 
 But you like none, none you, for constant heart. 
 
 LIV 
 
 O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem 
 By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! 
 The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem 
 For that sweet odour which doth in it live. 
 The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye 5 
 
 As the perfumed tincture of the roses. 
 Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly 
 When summer's breath their masked buds discloses : 
 But, for their virtue only is their show, 
 They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade ; 10 
 
 Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; 
 Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made : 
 And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, 
 •When that shall vade, my verse distills your truth. 
 
 243
 
 LV. and LVI. SONNETS 
 
 LV 
 
 Not marble, nor the gilded monuments 
 Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme? 
 But you shall shine more bright in these contents 
 Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. 
 When wasteful war shall statues overturn, 5 
 
 And broils root out the work of masonry, 
 Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn 
 The living record of your memory. 
 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity 
 Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room 10 
 Even in the eyes of all posterity 
 That wear this world out to the ending doom. 
 So, till the judgement that yourself arise, 
 You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. 
 
 LVI 
 
 Sweet love, renew thy force ; be it not said 
 Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, 
 Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd, 
 To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might: 
 So, love, be thou ; although to-day thou fill 5 
 
 Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fulness, 
 To-morrow see again, and do not kill 
 The spirit of love with a perpetual dulness. 
 Let this sad interim like the ocean be 
 Which parts the shore, where two contracted new 10 
 
 Come daily to the banks, that, when they see 
 Return of love, more blest may be the view; 
 Or call it winter, which, being full of care. 
 Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more 
 rare. 
 
 244
 
 SONNETS LVII. and LVIII. 
 
 LVII 
 
 Being your slave, what should I do but tend 
 Upon the hours and times of your desire? 
 I have no precious time at all to spend, 
 Nor services to do, till you require. 
 
 Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour 5 
 
 Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, 
 Nor think the bitterness ■ f absence sour 
 When you have bid your servant once adieu; 
 Nor dare I question with my jealous thought 
 Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, lo 
 
 But, hke a sad slave, stay and think of nought 
 Save, where you are how happy you make those. 
 So true a fool is love that in your will. 
 Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. 
 
 LVIII 
 
 That god forbid that made me first your slave, 
 
 I should in thought control your times of pleasure. 
 
 Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, 
 
 Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! 
 
 O, let me suffer, being at your beck, 5 
 
 The imprison'd absence of your liberty; 
 
 And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check, 
 
 Without accusing you of injury. 
 
 Be where you list, your charter is so strong 
 
 That you yourself may privilege your time . lo 
 
 To what you will; to you it doth belong 
 
 Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. 
 
 I am to wait, though waiting so be hell, 
 Not blame your pleasure, be it ill of well. 
 
 245
 
 LiX. and LX. SONNETS 
 
 LIX 
 
 If there be nothing new, but that which is 
 
 Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, 
 
 Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss 
 
 The second burthen of a former child! 
 
 O, that record could with a backward look, 5 
 
 Even of five hundred courses of the sun, 
 
 Show me your image in some antique book, 
 
 Since mind at first in character w^as done. 
 
 That I might see what the old world could say 
 
 To this composed wonder of your frame ; 10 
 
 Whether we are mended, or whether better they, 
 
 Or whether revolution be the same, 
 
 O, sure I am, the wits of former days 
 
 To subjects worse have given admiring praise. 
 
 LX 
 
 Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, 
 So do our minutes hasten to their end; 
 Each changing place with that which goes before. 
 In sequent toil all forwards do contend. 
 Nativity, once in the main of light, 5 
 
 Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, 
 Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight. 
 And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. 
 Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth 
 And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, 10 
 
 Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, 
 And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: 
 And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, 
 Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. 
 
 246
 
 SONNETS LXI. and LXII. 
 
 LXI 
 
 Is it thy will thy image should keep open 
 
 My heavy eyelids to the weary night ? 
 
 Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, 
 
 While shadows like to thee do mock my sight ? 
 
 Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee 5 
 
 So far from home into my deeds to pry, 
 
 To find out shames and idle hours in me. 
 
 The scope and tenour of thy jealousy? 
 
 O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great: 
 
 It is my love that keeps mine eye awake ; lo 
 
 Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, 
 
 To play the watchman ever for thy sake : 
 
 For thee watch I whilst thou doth wake elsewhere. 
 From me far off, with others all too near. 
 
 LXII 
 
 Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye 
 
 And all my soul and all my every part ; 
 
 And for this sin there is no remedy, 
 
 It is so grounded inward in my heart. 
 
 ^lethinks no face so gracious is as mine, 5 
 
 No shape so true, no truth of such account; 
 
 And for myself mine own worth do define. 
 
 As I all other in all worths surmount. 
 
 But when my glass shows me myself indeed, 
 
 Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity, lo 
 
 Mine own self-love quite contrary I read; 
 
 Self so self-loving were iniquity. 
 
 'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise. 
 Painting my age with beauty of thy days. 
 
 247
 
 LXIII. and LXIV. SONNETS 
 
 LXIII 
 
 Against my love shall be, as I am now, 
 With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'erworn ; 
 When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow 
 With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn 
 Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night, 5 
 
 And all those beauties whereof now he 's king 
 Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight, 
 Stealing away the treasure of his spring; 
 For such a time do I now fortify 
 
 Against confounding age's cruel knife, 10 
 
 That he shall never cut from memory 
 My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life: 
 His beauty shall in these black lines be seen. 
 And they shall live, and he in them still green. 
 
 LXIV 
 
 When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced 
 
 The rich-proud cost of outworn buried age; 
 
 When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed, 
 
 And brass eternal slave to mortal rage ; 
 
 When I have seen the hungry ocean gain 5 
 
 Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, 
 
 And the firm soil win of the watery main. 
 
 Increasing store with loss and loss with store ; 
 
 When I have seen such interchange of state. 
 
 Or state itself confounded to decay ; 10 
 
 Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, 
 
 That Time will come and take my love away. 
 
 This thought is as a death, which cannot choose 
 But weep to have that which it fears to lose, 
 248
 
 SONNETS LXV. and LXVL 
 
 LXV 
 
 Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, 
 
 But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, 
 
 How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea 
 
 Whose action is no stronger than a flower? 
 
 O, how shall summer's honey-breath hold out 5 
 
 Against the wreckful siege of battering days. 
 
 When rocks impregnable are not so stout, 
 
 Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays ? 
 
 O fearful meditation ! where, alack. 
 
 Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? lo 
 
 Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? 
 
 Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? 
 
 O, none, unless this miracle have might, 
 
 That in black ink my love may still shine bright. 
 
 LXVI 
 
 Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, 
 
 As, to behold desert a beggar born, 
 
 And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, 
 
 And purest faith unhappily forsworn, 
 
 And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, 5 
 
 And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, 
 
 And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, 
 
 And strength by limping sway disabled. 
 
 And art made tongue-tied by authority. 
 
 And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill, lo 
 
 And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, 
 
 And captive good attending captain ill: 
 
 Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, 
 Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. 
 
 249
 
 LXVII. and LXVIll. SONNETS 
 
 LXVII 
 
 Ah, wherefore with infection should he Hve 
 
 And with his presence grace impiety, 
 
 That sin by him advantage should achieve 
 
 And lace itself with his society? 
 
 Why should false painting imitate his cheek, 5 
 
 And steal dead seeing of his living hue ? 
 
 Why should poor beauty indirectly seek 
 
 Roses of shadow, since his rose is true ? 
 
 Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is, 
 
 Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins ? 10 
 
 For she hath no exchequer now but his, 
 
 And, proud of many, lives upon his gains. 
 
 O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had 
 In days long since, before these last so bad. 
 
 LXVIII 
 
 Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, 
 
 When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, 
 
 » 
 
 Before these bastard signs of fair were born, 
 
 Or durst inhabit on a living brow; 
 
 Before the golden tresses of the dead, 5 
 
 The right of sepulchres, were shorn away. 
 
 To live a second life on second head ; 
 
 Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay: 
 
 In him those holy antique hours are seen, 
 
 Without all ornament itself and true, 10 
 
 Making no summer of another's green, 
 
 Robbing no old to dress his beauty new; 
 
 And him as for a map doth Nature store, 
 To show false Art what beauty was of yore. 
 
 250
 
 SONNETS LXIX. and LXX. 
 
 LXIX 
 
 Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view 
 Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend; 
 All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due, 
 Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. 
 Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown 'd; 5 
 But those same tongues, that give thee so thine own, 
 In other accents do this praise confound 
 By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. 
 They look into the beauty of thy mind, 
 And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; 10 
 
 Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes were kind. 
 To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds : 
 But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, 
 The soil is this, that thou dost common grow. 
 
 LXX 
 
 That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, 
 
 For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; 
 
 The ornament of beauty is suspect, 
 
 A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air. 
 
 So thou be good, slander doth but approve 5 
 
 Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time ; 
 
 For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, 
 
 And thou present'st a pure unstained prime. 
 
 Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days, 
 
 Either not assail'd, or victor being charged; 10 
 
 Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, 
 
 To tie up envy evermore enlarged: 
 
 If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show. 
 Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe. 
 
 251
 
 LXXI. and LXXIl. SONNETS 
 
 LXXI 
 
 No longer mourn for me when I am dead 
 
 Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell 
 
 Give warning to the world that I am fled 
 
 From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: 
 
 Nay, if you read this line, remember not 5 
 
 The hand that writ it; for I love you so, 
 
 That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, 
 
 If thinking on me then should make you woe. 
 
 O, if, I say, you look upon this verse 
 
 When I perhaps compounded am with clay, 10 
 
 Do not so much as my poor name rehearse. 
 
 But let your love even with my life decay; 
 
 Lest the wise world should look into your moan, 
 And mock you with me after I am gone. 
 
 LXXII 
 
 O, lest the world should task you to recite 
 
 What merit lived in me, that you should love 
 
 After my death, dear love, forget me quite. 
 
 For you in me can nothing worthy prove ; 
 
 Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, 5 
 
 To do more for me than mine own desert, 
 
 And hang more praise upon deceased I 
 
 Than niggard truth would willingly impart: 
 
 O, lest your true love may seem false in this, 
 
 That you for love speak well of me untrue, 10 
 
 My name be buried where my body is, 
 
 And live no more to shame nor me nor you. 
 
 For I am shamed by that which I bring forth. 
 And so should you, to love things nothing worth. 
 
 252
 
 SONNETS LXXIII. and LXXIV. 
 
 LXXIII 
 
 That time of year thou mayst in me behold 
 
 When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang 
 
 Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, 
 
 Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. 
 
 In me thou see'st the twilight of such day 5 
 
 As after sunset fadeth in the west ; 
 
 Which by and by black night doth take away, 
 
 Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. 
 
 In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, 
 
 That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, lo 
 
 As the death-bed whereon it must expire, 
 
 Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. 
 
 This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more 
 strong. 
 
 To love that well which thou must leave ere long. 
 
 LXXIV 
 
 But be contented : when that fell arrest 
 
 Without all bail shall carry me away. 
 
 My life hath in this line some interest, 
 
 Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. 
 
 When thou reviewest this, thou dost review 5 
 
 The very part was consecrate to thee: 
 
 The earth can have but earth, which is his due; 
 
 My spirit is thine, the better part of me: 
 
 So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life. 
 
 The prey of worms, my body being dead; lo 
 
 The cow^ard conquest of a wretch's knife, 
 
 Too base of thee to be remembered. 
 
 The worth of that is that which it contains. 
 And that is this, and this with thee remains. 
 
 253
 
 LXXV. and LXXVI. SONNETS 
 
 , LXXV 
 
 . o are you to my thoughts as food to hfe, 
 
 Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; 
 
 And for the peace of you I hold such strife 
 
 As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found ; 
 
 Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon 5 
 
 Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure; 
 
 Now counting best to be with you alone, 
 
 Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure: 
 
 Sometime all full with feasting on your sight, 
 
 And by and by clean starved for a look; 10 
 
 Possessing or pursuing no delight, 
 
 Save what is had or must from you be took. 
 
 Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, 
 
 Or gluttoning on all, or all away. 
 
 LXXVI 
 
 Why Is my verse so barren of new pride. 
 So far from variation or quick change? 
 Why with the time do I not glance aside 
 To new-found methods and to compounds strange ? 
 Why write I still all one, ever the same, 5 
 
 And keep invention in a noted weed. 
 That every word doth almost tell my name. 
 Showing their birth and where they did proceed? 
 O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, 
 And you and love are still my argument; 10 
 
 So all my best is dressing old words new, 
 Spending again what is already spent : 
 For as the sun is daily new and old. 
 So is my love still telling what is told, 
 
 254
 
 SONNETS LXXVII. and LXXVIII. 
 
 LXXVII 
 
 Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, 
 
 Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; 
 
 The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear, 
 
 And of thii, book this learning mayst thou taste. 
 
 The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show 5 
 
 Of mouthed graves will give thee memory; 
 
 Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know 
 
 Time's thievish progress to eternity. 
 
 Look, what thy memory cannot contain 
 
 Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find lo 
 
 Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain 
 
 To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. 
 These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, 
 Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book. 
 
 LXXVIII 
 
 So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse 
 
 And found such fair assistance in my verse 
 
 As every alien pen hath got my use 
 
 And under thee their poesy disperse. 
 
 Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing 5 
 
 And heavy ignorance aloft to fly, 
 
 Have added feathers to the learned's wing 
 
 And given grace a double majesty. 
 
 Yet be most proud of that which I compile, 
 
 Whose influence is thine and born of thee: 10 
 
 In others' works thou dost but mend the style, 
 
 And arts with thy sweet graces graced be; 
 
 But thou art all my art, and dost advance 
 As high as learning my rude ignorance. 
 
 255
 
 LXXIX. and LXXX. SONNETS 
 
 LXXIX 
 
 Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, 
 
 My verse alone had all thy gentle grace ; 
 
 But now my gracious numbers are decay'd, 
 
 And my sick Muse doth give another place. 
 
 I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument 5 
 
 Deserves the travail of a worthier pen ; 
 
 Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent 
 
 He robs thee of, and pays it thee again. 
 
 He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word 
 
 For thy behaviour; beauty doth he give, 10 
 
 And found it in thy cheek : he can afford 
 
 No praise to thee but what in thee doth live. 
 
 Then thank him not for that which he doth say, 
 Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay. 
 
 LXXX 
 
 O, how I faint when I of you do write, 
 Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, 
 And in the praise thereof spends all his might. 
 To make me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame! 
 But since your worth, wide as the ocean is, 5 
 
 The humble as the proudest sail doth bear, 
 My saucy bark, inferior far to his, 
 On your broad main doth wilfully appear. 
 Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, 
 Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride; 10 
 
 Or, being wreck'd, I am a worthless boat, 
 He of tall building and of goodly pride: 
 Then if he thrive and I be cast away, 
 The worst was this; my love was my decay. 
 
 256
 
 SONNETS LXXXI. and LXXXII. 
 
 LXXXI 
 
 Or I shall live your epitaph to make, 
 
 Or you survive when I in earth am rotten; 
 
 From hence your memory death cannot take, 
 
 Although in me each part will be forgotten. 
 
 Your name from hence immortal life shall have, 5 
 
 Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: 
 
 The earth can yield me but a common grave. 
 
 When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. 
 
 Your monument shall be my gentle verse. 
 
 Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read; 10 
 
 And tongues to be your being shall rehearse. 
 
 When all the breathers of this world are dead; 
 
 You still shall live — such virtue hath my pen — 
 Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of 
 men. 
 
 LXXXII 
 
 I grant thou wert not married to my Muse, 
 
 And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook 
 
 The dedicated words which writers use 
 
 Of their fair subject, blessing every book. 
 
 Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, 5 
 
 Finding thy worth a limit past my praise; 
 
 And therefore art enforced to seek anew 
 
 Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days. 
 
 And do so, love; yet when they have devised 
 
 What strained touches rhetoric can lend, 10 
 
 Thou truly fair wert truly sympathized 
 
 In true plain words by thy true-telling friend; 
 
 And their gross painting might be better used 
 Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused. 
 
 257
 
 LXXXIII. and LXXXIV. SONNETS 
 
 LXXXIII 
 
 I never saw that you did painting need, 
 And therefore to your fair no painting set ; 
 I found, or thought I found, you did exceed 
 The barren tender of a poet's debt : 
 
 And therefore have I slept in your report, 5 
 
 That you yourself, being extant, well might show 
 How far a modern quill doth come too short, 
 Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow. 
 This silence for my sin you did impute, 
 Which shall be most my glory, being dumb; 10 
 
 For I impair not beauty being mute. 
 When others would give life and bring a tomb. 
 There lives more life in one of your fair eyes 
 Than both your poets can in praise devise. 
 
 LXXXIV 
 
 Who is it that says most? which can say more 
 
 Than this rich praise, that you alone are you? 
 
 In whose confine immured is the store 
 
 Which should example where your equal grew. 
 
 Lean penury within that pen doth dwell 5 
 
 That to his subject lends not some small glory; 
 
 But he that writes of you, if he can tell 
 
 That you are you, so dignifies his story. 
 
 Let him but copy what in you is writ, 
 
 Not making worse what nature made so clear, 10 
 
 And such a counterpart shall fame his wit, 
 
 Making his style admired every where. 
 
 You to your beauteous blessings add a curse. 
 Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse, 
 258
 
 SONNETS LXXXV. and LXXXVI. 
 
 LXXXV 
 
 x\Iy tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, 
 While comments of your praise, richly compiled, 
 Reserve their character with golden quill, 
 And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. 
 I think good thoughts, whilst other write good words, 5 
 And, like unletter'd clerk, still cry ' Amen ' 
 To every hymn that able spirit affords. 
 In polish'd form of well-refined pen. 
 Hearing you praised, I say ' 'Tis so, 'tis true,' 
 And to the most of praise add something more; 10 
 But that is in my thought, whose love to you, 
 Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before. 
 Then others for the breath of words respect, 
 Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect. 
 
 LXXXVI 
 
 Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, 
 
 Bound for the prize of all too precious you, 
 
 That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, 
 
 Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? 
 
 Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write 5 
 
 Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? 
 
 No, neither he, nor his compeer by night 
 
 Giving him aid, my verse astonished. 
 
 He, nor that affable familiar ghost 
 
 Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, 10 
 
 As victors, of my silence cannot boast; 
 
 I was not sick of any fear from thence: 
 
 But when your countenance fill'd up his line. 
 Then lack'd I matter; that enfeebled mine. 
 
 259
 
 LXXXVII. and LXXXVIII. SONNETS 
 
 LXXXVII 
 
 Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, 
 And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: 
 The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; 
 My bonds in thee are all determinate. 
 For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? 5 
 
 And for that riches where is my deserving? 
 The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, 
 And so my patent back again is swerving. 
 Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing, 
 Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking; 10 
 
 So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, 
 Comes home again, on better judgement making. 
 Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter. 
 In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. 
 
 LXXXVIII 
 
 When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, 
 
 And place my merit in the eye of scorn. 
 
 Upon thy side against myself I '11 fight. 
 
 And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. 
 
 With mine own weakness being best acquainted, 5 
 
 Upon thy part I can set down a story 
 
 Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted; 
 
 That thou in losing me shalt win much glory: 
 
 And I by this will be a gainer too ; 
 
 For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, lo 
 
 The injuries that to myself I do, 
 
 Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. 
 Such is my love, to thee I so belong, 
 That for thy right myself will bear all wrong. 
 
 260
 
 SONNETS LXXXIX. and XC. 
 
 LXXXIX 
 
 Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, 
 
 And I will comment upon that offence: 
 
 Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt, 
 
 Against thy reasons making no defence. 
 
 Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, ' 5 
 
 To set a form upon desired change, 
 
 As I'll myself disgrace; knowing thy will, 
 
 I will acquaintance strangle and look strange; 
 
 Be absent from thy walks ; and in my tongue 
 
 Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell, 10 
 
 Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong, 
 
 And haply of our old acquaintance tell. 
 
 For thee, against myself I '11 vow debate. 
 
 For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate. 
 
 XC 
 
 Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; 
 
 Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, 
 
 Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, 
 
 And do not drop in for an after-loss: 
 
 Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow, 5 
 
 Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe; 
 
 Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, 
 
 To linger out a -purposed overthrow. 
 
 If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, 
 
 When other petty griefs have done their spite, 10 
 
 But in the onset come : so shall I taste 
 
 At first the very worst of fortune's might; 
 
 And other strains of woe, which now seem woe. 
 Compared with loss of thee will not seem so. 
 
 261
 
 XCl. and XCII. SONNETS 
 
 XCI 
 
 Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, 
 
 Some in their wealth, some in their body's force; 
 
 Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill; 
 
 Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse; 
 
 And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, 5 
 
 Wherein it finds a joy above the rest: 
 
 But these particulars are not my measure; ^ 
 
 All these I better in one general best. 
 
 Thy love is better than high birth to me, v 
 
 Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost, ) 10 
 
 Of more delight than hawks or horses be; 
 
 And having thee, of all men's pride I boast: 
 
 Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take 
 All this awa}^ and me most wretched make. 
 
 XCll] 
 
 But do thy worst to steal thyself away, 
 
 For term of life thou art assured mine; , 
 
 And life no longer than thy love will stay. 
 
 For it depends upon that love of thine. 
 
 Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, 5 
 
 When in the least of them my life hath end. 
 
 I see a better state to me belongs 
 
 Than that which on thy humour doth depend: 
 
 Thou canst not vex me wnth inconstant mind, 
 
 Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie. lo 
 
 O, what a happy title do I find, 
 
 Happy to have thy love, happy to die! 
 
 But what 's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? 
 
 Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not. 
 
 263
 
 SONNETS XCIII. and XCIV. 
 
 XCIII 
 
 So shall I live, supposing thou art true, 
 Like a deceived husband ; so love's face 
 May still seem love to me, though alter'd new ; 
 Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place : / 
 For there can live no hatred in thine eye, 5 
 
 Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. 
 In many's looks the false heart's history 
 Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange, 
 But heaven in thy creation did decree 
 That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; lO 
 
 Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be, 
 Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. 
 How Hke Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, 
 If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show. 
 
 XCIV 
 
 They that have power to hurt and will do none. 
 
 That do not do the thing they most do show, 
 
 Who, moving others, are themselves as stone. 
 
 Unmoved, cold and to temptation slow ; 
 
 They rightly do inherit heaven's graces 5 
 
 And husband nature's riches from expense ; 
 
 They are the lords and owners of their faces. 
 
 Others but stewards of their excellence. 
 
 The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, 
 
 Though to itself it only live and die, lo 
 
 But if that flower with base infection meet, 
 
 The basest weed outbraves his dignity: 
 
 For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; 
 
 Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. 
 263
 
 XCV. and XCVI. SONNETS 
 
 xcv 
 
 How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame 
 
 Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, 
 
 Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name ! 
 
 O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins inclose! 
 
 That tongue that tells the story of thy days, 5 
 
 Making lascivious comments on thy sport, 
 
 Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise; 
 
 Naming thy name blesses an ill report. 
 
 O, what a mansion have those vices got 
 
 Which for their habitation chose out thee, lo 
 
 Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot 
 
 And all things turn to fair that eyes can see! 
 
 Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege ; 
 
 The hardest knife ill used doth lose his edge. 
 
 XCVI 
 
 Some say, thy fault is youth, some wantonness; 
 Some say, thy grace is youth and gentle sport ; 
 Both grace and faults are loved of more and less : 
 Thou makest faults graces that to thee resort. 
 As on the finger of a throned queen 5 
 
 The basest jewel will be well esteem'd, 
 So are those errors that in thee are seen 
 To truths translated and for true things deem'd. 
 How many lambs might the stern wolf betray. 
 If like a lamb he could his looks translate! 10 
 
 How many gazers mightst thou lead away, 
 If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state! 
 But do not so; I love thee in such sort, 
 As thou being mine, mine is thy good report. 
 
 264
 
 SONNETS XCVII. and XCVIII. 
 
 XCVII 
 
 How like a winter hath my absence been 
 
 From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! 
 
 What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! 
 
 What old December's bareness every where! 
 
 And yet this time removed was summer's time ; 5 
 
 The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, 
 
 Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime, 
 
 Like widowed wombs after their lords' decease: 
 
 Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me 
 
 But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit; 10 
 
 For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, 
 
 And, thou away, the very birds are mute ; 
 
 Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer 
 
 That leaves look pale, dreading the winter 's near. 
 
 XCVIII 
 
 From you have I been absent in the spring, 
 
 When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, 
 
 Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, 
 
 That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. 
 
 Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell 5 
 
 Of different flowers in odour and in hue, 
 
 Could make me any summer's story tell, 
 
 Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew : 
 
 Nor did I wonder at the Jily's white, 
 
 Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose ; 10 
 
 They were but sweet, but figures of delight. 
 
 Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. 
 
 Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, 
 As with your shadow I with these did play. 
 
 265
 
 XCIX. and C. SONNETS 
 
 XCIX 
 
 The forward violet thus did I chide: 
 
 Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, 
 
 If not from my love's breath? The purple pride 
 
 Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells 
 
 In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed. 5 
 
 The lily I condemned for thy hand, 
 
 And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair; 
 
 The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, 
 
 One blushing shame, another white despair ; 
 
 A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both, 10 
 
 And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; 
 
 But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth 
 
 A vengeful canker eat him up to death. 
 
 More flowers I noted, yet I none could see 
 
 But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee. 15 
 
 Where art thou. Muse, that thou forget'st so long 
 
 To speak of that which gives thee all thy might ? 
 
 Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song. 
 
 Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? 
 
 Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem 5 
 
 In gentle numbers time so idly spent; 
 
 Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem 
 
 And gives thy pen both skill and argument. 
 
 Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey. 
 
 If Time have any wrinkle graven there ; lO 
 
 If any, be a satire to decay, 
 
 And make Time's spoils despised every where. 
 
 Give my love fame faster than Time wastes hfe; 
 
 So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife. 
 
 266
 
 SONNETS CI. and Cll. 
 
 CI 
 
 O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends 
 
 For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? 
 
 Both truth and beauty on my love depends ; 
 
 So dost thou too, and therein dignified. 
 
 Make answer. Muse : wilt thou not haply say, 5 
 
 'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd; 
 
 Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay; 
 
 But best is best, if never intermix'd ' ? 
 
 Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb? 
 
 Excuse not silence^so, for 't Ijes in thee lo 
 
 To make him much outlive a gilded tomb 
 
 And to be praised of ages yet to be. 
 
 Then do thy ofifice. Muse; I teach thee how 
 To make him seem long hence as he shows now. 
 
 CII 
 
 My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; 
 I love not less, though less the show appear: 
 That love is merchandized whose rich esteeming 
 The owner's tongue doth publish every where. 
 Our love was new, and then but in the spring, 5 
 
 When I was wont to greet it with my lays; 
 As Philomel in summer's front doth sing, 
 And stops her pipe in growth of riper days: 
 Not that the summer is less pleasant now 
 Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, 10 
 But that wild music burthens every bough, 
 And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. 
 Therefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue, 
 Because I would not dull you with my song. 
 
 267
 
 cm. and CIV. SONNETS 
 
 cm 
 
 Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth, 
 
 That having such a scope to show her pride, 
 
 The argument, all bare, is of more worth 
 
 Than when it hath my added praise beside! 
 
 O, blame me not, if I no more can write! 5 
 
 Look in your glass, and there appears a face 
 
 That over-goes my blunt invention quite. 
 
 Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace. 
 
 Were it not sinful then, striving to mend. 
 
 To mar the subject that b,efore was well? lo 
 
 For to no other pass my. verses tend 
 
 Than of your graces and your gifts to tell; 
 
 And more, much more, than in my verse can sit, 
 Your own glass shows you when you look in it. 
 
 CIV 
 
 To me, fair friend, you never can be old. 
 
 For as you were when first your eye I eyed. 
 
 Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold 
 
 Have from the forests shook three summers' pride, 
 
 Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd 5 
 
 In process of the seasons have I seen. 
 
 Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd. 
 
 Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. 
 
 Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand. 
 
 Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived ; lo 
 
 So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand. 
 
 Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived: 
 
 For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred; 
 
 Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead. 
 
 268
 
 SONNETS CV. and CVI. 
 
 cv 
 
 Let not my love be call'd idolatry, 
 
 Nor my beloved as an idol show, 
 
 Since all alike my songs and praises be 
 
 To one, of one, still such, and ever so. 
 
 Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, 5 
 
 Still constant in a wondrous excellence; 
 
 Therefore my verse to constancy confined. 
 
 One thing expressing, leaves out difference. 
 
 ' Fair, kind, and true,' is all my argument, 
 
 'Fair, kind, and true,' varying to other words; 10 
 
 And in this change is my invention spent, 
 
 Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. 
 ' Fair, kind, and true,' have often lived alone, 
 Which three till now never kept seat in one. 
 
 CVI 
 
 When in the chronicle of wasted time 
 
 I see descriptions of the fairest wights, 
 
 And beauty making beautiful old rhyme 
 
 In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, 
 
 Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, 5 
 
 Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, 
 
 I see their antique pen would have express'd 
 
 Even such a beauty as you master now. 
 
 So all their praises are but prophecies 
 
 Of this our time, all you prefiguring; lo 
 
 And, for they look'd but with divining eyes, 
 
 They had not skill enough your worth to sing: 
 
 For we, which now behold these present days, 
 
 Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. 
 
 269
 
 CVn. and CVIII. SONNETS 
 
 CVII 
 
 Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul 
 Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, 
 Can yet the lease of my true love control, 
 Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. 
 The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured, 5 
 
 And the sad augurs mock their own presage; 
 Incertainties now crown themselves assured, 
 And peace proclaims olives of endless age. 
 Now with the drops of this most balmy time 
 My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, 10 
 
 Since, spite of him, I '11 live in this poor rhyme, 
 While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes : 
 And thou in this shalt find thy monument. 
 When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent, 
 
 CVIII 
 
 What 's in the brain, that ink may character. 
 
 Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit ? 
 
 What 's new to speak, what new to register. 
 
 That may express my love, or they dear merit ? 
 
 Nothing, sweet boy ; but yet, like prayers divine, 5 
 
 I must each day say o'er the very same; 
 
 Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine. 
 
 Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name. 
 
 So that eternal love in love's fresh case 
 
 Weighs not the dust and injury of age, 10 
 
 Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place. 
 
 But makes antiquity for aye his page ; 
 
 Finding the first conceit of love there bred. 
 Where time and outward form would show it dead. 
 270
 
 SONNETS CIX. and CX. 
 
 CIX 
 
 O, never say that I was false of heart, 
 Though absence seem'd my fiame to qualify. 
 As easy might I from myself depart 
 As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie: 
 That is my home of love: if I have ranged, 5 
 
 Like him that travels, I return again ; 
 Just to the time, not with the time exchanged. 
 So that myself bring water for my stain. 
 Never believe, though in my nature reign'd 
 All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, lo 
 
 That it could so preposterously be stain'd, 
 To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; 
 For nothing this wide universe I call, 
 Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all. 
 
 CX 
 
 Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there, 
 
 And made myself a motley to the view. 
 
 Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, 
 
 Made old offences of affections new; 
 
 Most true it is that I have look'd on truth 5 
 
 Askance and strangely: but, by all above. 
 
 These blenches gave my heart another youth, 
 
 And worse essays proved thee my best of love. 
 
 Now all is done, save what shall have no end : 
 
 Mine appetite I never more will grind 10 
 
 On newer proof, to try an older friend, 
 
 A god in love, to whom I am confined. 
 
 Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best. 
 Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. 
 
 271
 
 CXI. and CXIl. SONNETS 
 
 CXI 
 
 O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, 
 
 The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, 
 
 That did not better for my life provide 
 
 Than public means which public manners breeds. 
 
 Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, 5 
 
 And almost thence my nature is subdued 
 
 To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: 
 
 Pity me then and wish I were renew'd; 
 
 Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink 
 
 Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection; 10 
 
 No bitterness that I will bitter think, 
 
 Nor double penance, to correct correction. 
 Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye 
 Even that your pity is enough to cure me. 
 
 CXII 
 
 Your love and pity doth the impression fill 
 
 Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; 
 
 For what care I who calls me well or ill. 
 
 So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? 
 
 You are my all the world, and I must strive 5 
 
 To know my shames and praises from your tongue ; 
 
 None else to me, nor I to none alive. 
 
 That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong. 
 
 In so profound abysm I throw all care 
 
 Of others' voices, that my adder's" sense lO 
 
 To critic and to flatterer stopped are. 
 
 Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: 
 
 You are so strongly in my purpose bred 
 That all the world besides methinks are dead. 
 
 272
 
 SONNETS CXIII. and CXIV. 
 
 CXIII 
 
 Since I left you mine eye is in my mind, 
 And that which governs me to go about 
 Doth part his function and is partly blind, 
 Seems seeing, but effectually is out; 
 For it no form delivers to the heart 5 
 
 Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch: 
 Of his quick objects hath the mind no part. 
 Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch; 
 For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight, 
 The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, lo 
 
 The mountain or the sea, the day or night, 
 "The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature: 
 Incapable of more, .replete with you, 
 My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue. 
 
 CXIV 
 
 Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you, 
 Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery? 
 Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true, 
 And that your love taught it this alchemy, 
 To make of monsters and things indigest 5 
 
 Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, 
 Creating every bad a perfect best. 
 As fast as objects to his beams assemble? 
 O, 'tis the first ; 'tis flattery in my seeing. 
 And my great mind most kingly drinks it up: 10 
 
 Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing, 
 And to his palate doth prepare the cup : 
 If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin 
 That mine eye loves it and doth first begin. 
 
 273
 
 CXV. and CXVI. SONNETS 
 
 cxv 
 
 Those lines that I before have writ do He, 
 Even those that said I could not love you dearer : 
 Yet then my judgement knew no reason why 
 My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. 
 But reckoning Time, whose million'd accidents 5 
 
 Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, 
 Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharpest intents, 
 Divert strong minds to the course of altering things; 
 Alas, why, fearing of Time's tyranny. 
 Might I not then say ' Now I love you best,' 10 
 
 When I was certain o'er incertainty. 
 Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? 
 Love is a babe; then might I not say so, 
 To give full growth to that which still doth grow? 
 
 CXVI 
 
 Let me not to the marriage of true minds 
 
 Admit impediments. Love is not love 
 
 Which alters when it alteration finds. 
 
 Or bends with the remover to remove: 
 
 O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, ' 5 
 
 That looks on tempests and is never shaken ; 
 
 It is the star to every wandering bark, 
 
 Whose worth 's unknown, although his height be taken. 
 
 Love 's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 
 
 Within his bending sickle's compass come; 10 
 
 Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks. 
 
 But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 
 
 If this be error and iipon me proved, 
 
 I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 
 
 274
 
 SONNETS CXVII. and CXVIII. 
 
 CXVII 
 
 Accuse me thus : that I have scanted all 
 
 Wherein I should your great deserts repay. 
 
 Forgot upon your dearest love to call, 
 
 Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day; 
 
 That I have frequent been with unknown minds, 5 
 
 And given to time your own dear-purchased right; 
 
 That I have hoisted sail to all the winds 
 
 Which should transport me farthest from your sight. 
 
 Book both my wilfulness and errors down, 
 
 And on just proof surmise accumulate; 10 
 
 Bring me within the level of your frown, 
 
 But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate; 
 
 Since my appeal says I did strive to prove 
 The constancy and virtue of your love. 
 
 CXVIII 
 
 Like as, to make our appetites more keen, 
 With eager compounds we our palate urge; 
 As, to prevent our maladies unseen. 
 We sicken to shun sickness when we purge; 
 Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness, 5 
 To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding; 
 And sick of welfare found a kind of meetness 
 To be diseased, ere that there was true needing. 
 Thus policy in love, to anticipate 
 
 The ills that were not, grew to faults assured, 10 
 
 And brought to medicine a healthful state. 
 Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured: 
 But thence I learn, and find the lesson true, 
 Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you, 
 
 275
 
 CXIX. and CXX. SONNETS 
 
 CXIX 
 
 What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, 
 Distiird from hmbecks foul as hell within, 
 Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears. 
 Still losing when I saw myself to win! 
 What wretched errors hath my heart committed, 5 
 
 Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never! 
 How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted. 
 In the distraction of this madding fever! 
 O benefit of ill! now I find true 
 
 That better is by evil still made better; 10 
 
 And ruin'd love, when it is built anew. 
 Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater. 
 So I return rebuked to my content, 
 And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent. 
 
 CXX 
 
 That you were once unkind befriends me now 
 And for that sorrow which I then did feel 
 Needs must I under my transgression bow, 
 Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel. 
 For if you were by my unkindness shaken, 5 
 
 As I by yours, you've pass'd a hell of time; 
 And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken 
 To weigh how once I suffer'd in your crime. 
 'O, that our night of woe might have remember'd 
 My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, 10 
 
 And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd 
 The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits ! 
 
 But that your trespass now becomes a fee; 
 
 Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me. 
 
 276
 
 SONNETS CXXI. and CXXII. 
 
 CXXI 
 
 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed, 
 
 When not to be receives reproach of being ; 
 
 And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed 
 
 Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing: 
 
 For why should others' false adulterate eyes 5 
 
 Give salutation to my sportive blood? 
 
 Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, 
 
 Which in their wills count bad what I think good? 
 
 No, I am that I am, and they that level 
 
 At my abuses reckon up their own: lo 
 
 I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel ; 
 
 By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown;. 
 Unless this general evil they maintain, 
 All men are bad and in their badness reign. 
 
 CXXII 
 
 Thy gift, thy tables, are wathin my brain 
 
 Full character'd with lasting memory. 
 
 Which shall above that idle .rank remain, 
 
 Beyond all date, even to eternity : 
 
 Or, at the least, so long as brain and heart 5 
 
 Have faculty by nature to subsist ; 
 
 Till each to razed oblivion yield his part 
 
 Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd. 
 
 That poor retention could not so much hold. 
 
 Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score; 10 
 
 Therefore to give them from me was I bold, 
 
 To trust those tables that receive thee more: 
 
 To keep an adjunct to remember thee 
 
 Were to import forgetfulness in me. 
 
 277
 
 CXXin. and CXXIV. SONNETS 
 
 CXXIII 
 
 No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: 
 Thy pyramids built up with newer might 
 To me are nothing novel, nothing strange ; 
 They are but dressings of a former sight. • 
 Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire 5 
 
 What thou dost foist upon us that is old; 
 And rather make them born to our desire 
 Than think that we before have heard them told. 
 Thy registers and thee I both defy, 
 
 Not wondering at the present nor the past, lo 
 
 For thy records and what we see doth lie, 
 Made more or less by thy continual haste. 
 This I do vow, and this shall ever be, 
 I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee. 
 
 CXXIV 
 
 If my dear love were but the child of state, 
 It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd, 
 As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, 
 Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd. 
 No, it was builded far from accident; 5 
 
 It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls 
 Under the blow of thralled discontent. 
 Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: 
 It fears not policy, that heretic, 
 
 Which works on leases of short-number'd hours. ic 
 
 But all alone stands hugely politic. 
 
 That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers. 
 To this I witness call the fools of time. 
 Which die for goodness, vAio have lived for crime. 
 
 278 
 
 J
 
 SONNETS CXXV. and CXXVI. 
 
 CXXV 
 
 Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, 
 
 With my extern the outward honouring, 
 
 Or laid great bases for eternity. 
 
 Which prove more short than waste or ruining ? 
 
 Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour 5 
 
 Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent. 
 
 For compound sweet foregoing simple savour, 
 
 Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent? 
 
 No, let me be obsequious in thy heart. 
 
 And take thou my oblation, poor but free, lo 
 
 Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art 
 
 But mutual render, only me for thee. 
 
 Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul 
 When most impeach'd stands least in thy control. 
 
 CXXVI 
 
 O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power 
 
 Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; 
 
 Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st 
 
 Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st ; 
 
 If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, 5 
 
 As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back. 
 
 She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill 
 
 May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. 
 
 Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! 
 
 She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure : lo 
 
 Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be, 
 
 And her quietus is to render thee. 
 
 279
 
 CXXVII. and CXXVIII. SONNETS 
 
 CXXVII 
 
 In the old age black was not counted fair. 
 
 Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; 
 
 But now is black beauty's successive heir, 
 
 And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame : 
 
 For since each hand hath put on Nature's power, 5 
 
 Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face, 
 
 Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, 
 
 But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. 
 
 Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black, 
 
 Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem 10 
 
 At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, 
 
 Slandering creation with a false esteem : 
 
 Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe. 
 That every tongue says beauty should look so. 
 
 CXXVIII 
 
 How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, 
 Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds 
 With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st 
 The wiry concord that mine ear confounds. 
 Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap 5 
 
 To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, 
 Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, 
 At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! 
 To be so tickled, they would change their state 
 And situation with those dancing chips, 10 
 
 O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait. 
 Making dead wood more blest than living lips. 
 Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, 
 Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. 
 
 280
 
 SONNETS CXXIX. and CXXX. 
 
 CXXIX 
 
 The expense of spirit in a waste of shame 
 
 Is lust in action; and till action, lust 
 
 Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, 
 
 Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust ; 
 
 Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight ; 5 
 
 Past reason hunted; and no sooner had, 
 
 Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait, 
 
 On purpose laid to make the taker mad: 
 
 Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; 
 
 Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme lo 
 
 A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; 
 
 Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. 
 
 All this the world well knows ; yet none knows well 
 To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. 
 
 CXXX 
 
 My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; 
 
 Coral is far more red than her lips' red: 
 
 If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun ; 
 
 If hairs be wires, black wires grow^ on her head. 
 
 I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, 5 
 
 But no such roses see I in her cheeks; 
 
 And in some perfumes is there more delight 
 
 Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. 
 
 I love to hear her speak, yet well I know 
 
 That music hath a far more pleasing- sound: lo 
 
 I grant I never saw a goddess go, 
 
 My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground : 
 
 And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare 
 
 As any she behed with false compare. 
 281
 
 CXXXI. and CXXXII. SONNETS 
 
 CXXXI 
 
 Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, 
 As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; 
 For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart 
 Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. 
 Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold, 5 
 
 Thy face hath not the power to make love groan: 
 To say they err I dare not be so bold, 
 Although I swear it to myself alone. 
 And to be sure that is not false I swear, 
 A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face, 10 
 
 One on another's neck, do witness bear 
 Thy black is fairest in my judgement's place. 
 In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, 
 And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds. 
 
 CXXXII 
 
 Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, 
 
 Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, 
 
 Have put on black and loving mourners be. 
 
 Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. 
 
 And truly not the morning sun of heaven 5 
 
 Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, 
 
 Nor that full star that ushers in the even 
 
 Doth half that glory to the sober west. 
 
 As those two mourning eyes become thy face: 
 
 O, let it then as well beseem thy heart 10 
 
 To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace. 
 
 And suit thy pity like in every part. 
 
 Then will I swear beauty herself is black, 
 And all they foul that thv complexion lack. 
 
 282
 
 SONNETS CXXXIII. and CXXXIV. 
 
 CXXXIII 
 
 Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan 
 
 For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! 
 
 Is 't not enough to torture me alone, 
 
 But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be? 
 
 Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken, 5 
 
 And my next self thou harder hast engrossed : 
 
 Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken; 
 
 A torment thrice threefold thus to be crossed. 
 
 Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward. 
 
 But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail; lo 
 
 Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard; 
 
 Thou canst not then use rigour in my gaol: 
 
 And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee, 
 Perforce am thine, and all that is in me. 
 
 CXXXIV 
 
 So, now I have confess'd that he is thine 
 
 And I myself am mortgaged to thy will. 
 
 Myself I '11 forfeit, so that other mine 
 
 Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still: 
 
 But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, 5 
 
 For thou art covetous and he is kind; 
 
 He learn'd but surety-like to write for me. 
 
 Under that bond that him as fast doth bind. 
 
 The statute of thy beauty tho^u wilt take. 
 
 Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use, lO 
 
 And sue a friend came debtor for my sake; 
 
 So him I lose through my unkind abuse. 
 
 Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me: 
 He pays the whole, and yet am I not free. 
 
 283
 
 CXXXV. and CXXXVI. SONNETS 
 
 cxxxv 
 
 Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy ' Will,' 
 
 And ' Will'' to boot, and ' Will ' in overplus ; 
 
 More than enough am I that vex thee still. 
 
 To thy sweet will making addition thus. 
 
 Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, 5 
 
 Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? 
 
 Shall will in others seem right gracious, 
 
 And in my will no fair acceptance shine? 
 
 The sea, all water, yet receives rain still. 
 
 And in abundance addeth to his store; 10 
 
 So thou being rich in ' Will,' add to thy ' Will ' 
 
 One will of mine, to make thy large ' Will ' more. 
 
 Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill; 
 
 Think all but one, and me in that one ' Will/ 
 
 CXXXVI 
 
 If thy soul check thee that I come so near, 
 
 Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy ' Will,' 
 
 And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; 
 
 Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. 
 
 *,Will ' will fulfil the treasure of thy love, 5 
 
 Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. 
 
 In things of great receipt with ease we prove 
 
 Among a number one is reckon'd none: 
 
 Then in the number let me pass untold, 
 
 Though in thy store's account I one must be; 10 
 
 For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold 
 
 That nothing me, a something sweet to thee : 
 
 Make but my name thy love, and love that still, 
 And then thou lovest me, for my name is ' Will.' 
 
 284
 
 SONNETS CXXXVII. and CXXXVIII. 
 
 CXXXVII 
 
 Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, 
 That they behold, and see not what they see? 
 They know what beauty is, see where it Hes, 
 Yet what the best is take the worst to be. 
 If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks, 5 
 
 Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride. 
 Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks. 
 Whereto the judgement of my heart is tied? 
 Why should my heart think that a several plot 
 Which my heart knows the wide world's common place ? 
 Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not, 1 1 
 
 To put fair truth upon so foul a face? 
 
 In things right true my heart and eyes have erred. 
 And to this false plague are they now transferred. 
 
 CXXXVIII 
 
 When my love swears that she is made of truth, 
 I do believe her, though I know she lies, 
 That she might think me some untutor'd youth, 
 Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. 
 Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, 5 
 
 Although she knows my days are past the best, 
 Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: 
 On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd. 
 But wherefore says she not she is unjust? 
 And w^herefore say not I that I am old? 10 
 
 O, love's best habit is in seeming trust. 
 And age in love loves not to have years told: 
 Therefore I lie with her and she v/ith me, 
 And in our faults by lies w^e flatter'd be. 
 
 285
 
 C\\\l\. and CM . SONNKTS 
 
 ( \ \ \ I \ 
 
 < ^ V .\\\ n.M tiu- l>> invlilN \\\c w 1 ,m<i; 
 t ImI (In tinlvn\Jnv<ss lavs npvMi \\\\ IwMtt; 
 WiMituI iiu' Hv>l wtilt (Iiinr vxv-, Inl willi lh\ tiMi;;nr; 
 I'sr powv'i Willi powvM. .iihl -.l,i\ nu- n>>i 1>\ ,n i 
 IVII iMv- iliiMi lo\v>sl vMsrwliou'. l>i\t in tn\ m;:1>I. 5 
 
 1 V.n hvMit, I»>iIhmi I»> r.l.nur ihuu" r\ r astiK^ 
 
 \\ h.H (Iv'v^l'-.t (lh>\l WiMXhl \\\\\\ K\\\\\\\\\\\. wluM ti>\ ini;;lit 
 
 Is nuMv^ (h.n» itw »»\m ptrs^v^l vKMvMtrv^ r.ui l>t^lo.' 
 
 I vi WW v"\v ii>.r \\\w: \\\\, nn K»\v wril knows 
 
 \\<'\ piA^HV looks Ik»\v^ bvUM» l\m)0 vM\vM\nv^s; u> 
 
 \t>»l tluMi^l'oi'o lVon» n»\ l.ur slu> (un\«^ \\\\ lv>v\s, 
 I'li.it (liv^N rl^v^whoio nui'JU vknl iI\vm> imntios: 
 
 Nv't vio wot sv<; Imt siiuo I an\ noar skim. 
 
 Kill »uo ouhij^ht with lvH>ks. atul rid u\\ \\\\\\. 
 
 rxT. 
 
 Ho wiv^O as \\\y\\\ i\\\ vMUrl; vk> not jmoss 
 My touj^vio tiod patiowco with tov^ i\\u».d\ disvlaiti: 
 l.CvSt sorrv>\v UmwI n\o wvmhIs, anvl wotvls oxprosj^ 
 Tho twanuiM- of iwv pitv wantitij; \\\y\\ 
 
 II I ntii^ht tvMv'h thco wit. hottor it wvmv\ 5 
 Thvmji^h iu>t tv> lv>\v\ \A^t, U>vi\ to tell two sv>; 
 
 As tostv siok »non. whot\ thoir deaths bo tuwt . 
 
 Nv> nows h\it hoalth Uowx thoir physicians k»\ow ; 
 
 h\M\ it' I shvMdd vlospair. I shvMild i^row twavl. 
 
 Auvl \\\ \\\\ u\ad\u\ss iwight speak ill of thtv: \o 
 
 Nvwv this ill wrest iuj;^ world is ^rowu sv> havl. 
 
 Mad slanvlorors l\\ wiavl ears helievevi Ih\ 
 
 That I wuiv uv^t he so. iwvr thou helied. 
 
 Hvwv thit\e eves straij^ht. thou\:h thv piv>uvl heart 
 vi\^ w ivK^
 
 SONNKTS 
 
 ( \LI. aiul C \Lll 
 
 (M.I 
 
 111 I.111I1. I <!.> II. «l l«t\c ilicc Willi imm^ ^y^^, 
 
 \i >i I li(\ III I Ikc .1 I li. MP .111.1 (1 1 1 >i •. nolo ; 
 
 I'.iil "(p. ni\ he. 11 I lli.il l.'V ( •• w li.il iIk \ .!.■ .|.r.c. 
 
 W ltd. Ill «1< '.lilti- »)l \ li w , I'. pK'.Ca'il li> tl.itt . 
 
 N..I .lie initio Crit'H Willi lli\ lOll^'Up's lime < Icllj'Jil <'. I . 
 
 Noi l<ii.l( I Irclinp,, 1«> l>.i:«f (<)iu"lu'H pi.MK . 
 N<»r l.rl.'. iKii Miicll, desire (<» he invil«.| 
 '!'< • .iii\ '.. ir.ii.il Ici'.l w il li I lie. .il. tiie ; 
 litlt iii\ li\c wil'. iit.i iii\ li\.- •.( ir.c; <';in 
 I)is,Mi.i<l< ..lie I.M.lrli Ik. Ml ii.iiii ■.eivilir. lll<<', 
 
 Who IciXC. Illl.\\.l\ .1 111. Ill < IK •,•. <.| .1 III. III. 
 
 Tin I II . UK 1 Ik .11 I "'. '1.1 V . .1 IK I \ .r.'.il w 1 < I . Ii t . • he ; 
 ( )iil\ iii\ |il.i!'iK line. I. II I i.iiiiil iii\ r,.iin, 
 lli.il -.lie ill. It iii,ilv('. 111. Mil .iw.ii.l'. me |t.iin 
 
 10 
 
 ( \ I II 
 
 Lovo is my sin, .iixl Ihv <leai viihie hale, 
 Hate of mv siii, fMoiiiwled <»n sinftil hiviiif-v: 
 
 ( ), hill Willi II I UK . I iiii|Mi « 1 1 1. MI 1 1 line < 'W II -.Li If. 
 And ih.Mi '.li.ill IiikI II IIK I il'. iiol M |.i.>v iiif; , 
 ( )i , li II <Im, iioI Ikmii Iho-.c hp'. ol lliiiir. 
 'I'h.il h.ive pl«>i;ilied llieil •.( .11 l<| niiiMiiKiir. 
 And scil'd hil'M- JM.nds ..I l..vc .r. ..Il .r. mine. 
 
 Iv'chhM ..Hki-.' Im.I," irv.iin.-. ..I lli.n i.iiU. 
 
 I'.e II Imw liil I l<.\<' Ihcr. .r. iIkiii I. .v. .I lli.r.e 
 Whom lliiiK . \(', w(i<» ;i', nunc iiiipoiliiiK lli(*C! 
 
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 'lIlN |Ml\ lli.i\ .1< • (I V< l<» pllird hr 
 
 II IIkmi d.r.l •,ccls In h.ive wll.il ih-'U .l..'.l liK 
 \\y sell cx-iiiipN niM\',l llioii h* .1< iik d' 
 
 -!8/
 
 CXLIII. and CXLIV. SONNETS 
 
 CXLIII 
 
 Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch 
 
 One of her feather'd creatures broke away, 
 
 Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatch 
 
 In pursuit of the thing she would have stay; 
 
 Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, 5 
 
 Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent 
 
 To follow that which flies before her face, 
 
 Not prizing her poor infant's discontent: 
 
 So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, 
 
 Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; 10 
 
 But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, 
 
 And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind: 
 
 So will I pray that thou mayst have thy ' Will,' 
 If thou turn back and my loud crying still. 
 
 CXLIV 
 
 Two loves I have of comfort and despair. 
 
 Which like two spirits do suggest me still: 
 
 The better angel is a man right fair. 
 
 The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. 
 
 To win me soon to hell, my female evil 5 
 
 Tempteth my better angel from my side, 
 
 And would corrupt my saint to be a devil. 
 
 Wooing his purity with her foul pride. 
 
 And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend 
 
 Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; 10 
 
 But being both from me, both to each friend, 
 
 I guess one angel in another's hell: 
 
 Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, 
 Till my bad angel fire my good one out. 
 
 288
 
 SONNETS CXLV. and CXLVI. 
 
 CXLV 
 
 Those lips that Love's own hand did make 
 
 Breathed forth the sound that said ' I hate,' 
 
 To me that languish'd for her sake: 
 
 But when she saw my woeful state, 
 
 Straight in her heart did mercy come, 5 
 
 Chiding that tongue that ever sweet 
 
 Was used in giving gentle doom; 
 
 And taught it thus anew to greet; 
 
 * I hate ' she alter'd with an end, 
 
 That follow'd it as gentle day 10 
 
 Doth follow night, who, like a fiend. 
 
 From heaven to hell is flown away; 
 
 ' I hate ' from hate away she threw, 
 
 And saved my life, saying ' not you/ 
 
 CXLVI 
 
 Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, 
 
 . these rebel powers that thee array, 
 Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth. 
 Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? 
 Why so large cost, having so short a lease, 5 
 
 Do'St thou upon thy fading mansion spend? 
 Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, 
 Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end? 
 Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, 
 And let that pine to aggravate thy store ; 10 
 
 Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; 
 A\'ithin be fed, without be rich no more : 
 
 So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, 
 And Death once dead, there 's no more dying then. 
 
 283
 
 CXLVII. and CXLVIII. SONNETS 
 
 CXLVII 
 
 My love is as a fever, longing still 
 
 For that which longer nurseth the disease; • 
 
 Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, 
 
 The uncertain sickly appetite to please. 
 
 My reason, the physician to my love, 5 
 
 Angry that his prescriptions are not kept. 
 
 Hath left me, and I desperate now approve 
 
 Desire is death, which physic did except. 
 
 Past cure I am, now reason is past care, 
 
 And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; 10 
 
 My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are. 
 
 At random from the truth vainly express'd; 
 
 For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, 
 Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. 
 
 CXLVIII 
 
 O, me, what eyes hath Love put in my head, 
 
 Which have no correspondence with true sight! 
 
 Or, if they have, where is my judgement fled, 
 
 That censures falsely what they see aright? 
 
 If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, 5 
 
 What means the world to say it is not so? 
 
 If it be not, then love doth well denote 
 
 Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no, 
 
 How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true, 
 
 That is so vex'd with watching and with tears? 10 
 
 No marvel then, though I mistake my view; 
 
 The sun itself sees not till heaven clears. 
 
 O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, 
 Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. 
 
 290
 
 SONNETS CXLIX. and CL. 
 
 CXLIX 
 
 Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, 
 
 When I against myself with thee partake? 
 
 Do I not think on thee, when I forgot 
 
 Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake? 
 
 Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? 5 
 
 On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon? 
 
 Nay, if thou lour'st on me, do I not spend 
 
 Revenge upon myself with present moan ? 
 
 What merit do I in myself respect. 
 
 That is so proud thy service to despise, lo 
 
 When all my best doth worship thy defect, 
 
 Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? 
 
 But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind; 
 
 Those that can see thou lovest, and I am blind. 
 
 CL 
 
 O, from what power hast thou this powerful might 
 
 With insufficiency my heart to sway ? 
 
 To make me give the He to my true sight, 
 
 And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? 
 
 Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, 5 
 
 That in the very refuse of thy deeds 
 
 There is such strength and warrantise of skill, 
 
 That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds ? 
 
 Who taught thee how to make me love thee more, 
 
 The more I hear and see just cause of hate? 10 
 
 O, though I love what o.thers do abhor, 
 
 With others thou shouldst not abhor my state: 
 
 If thy unworthiness raised love in me, 
 
 JMore worthy I to be beloved of thee. 
 
 291
 
 CLI. and CLII. SONNETS 
 
 CLI 
 
 Love is too young to know what conscience is ; 
 
 Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? 
 
 Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss. 
 
 Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove : 
 
 For, thou betraying me, I do betray 5 
 
 My nobler part to my gross body's treason; 
 
 My soul doth tell my body that he may 
 
 Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason, 
 
 But rising at thy name doth point out thee 
 
 As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, 10 
 
 He is contented thy poor drudge to be. 
 
 To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. 
 
 No want of conscience hold it that I call 
 Her * love ' for whose dear love I rise and fall. 
 
 CLH 
 
 In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn. 
 But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing; 
 In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn, 
 In vowing new hate after new love bearing. 
 But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, 5 
 
 When I break twenty? I am perjured most; 
 For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee. 
 And all my honest faith in thee is lost: 
 For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness. 
 Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy; 10 
 
 And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness. 
 Or made them swear against the thing they see; 
 For I have sworn thee fair; more perjured I, 
 To swear against the truth so foul a lie! 
 292
 
 SONNETS CLIIl. and CLIV. 
 
 CLIII 
 
 Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep : 
 
 A maid of Dian's this advantage found, 
 
 And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep 
 
 In a cold valley- fountain of that ground ; 
 
 Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love 5' 
 
 A dateless lively heat, still to endure, 
 
 And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove 
 
 Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. 
 
 But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fired. 
 
 The boy for trial needs would touch my breast ; lo 
 
 I, sick withal, the help of bath desired. 
 
 And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest, 
 
 But found no cure : the bath for my help lies 
 Where Cupid got new fire, my mistress' eyes. 
 
 CLIV 
 
 The little Love-god lying once asleep 
 
 Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, 
 
 Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep 
 
 Came tripping by ; but in her maiden hand 
 
 The fairest votary took up that fire 5 
 
 Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd ; 
 
 And so the general of hot desire 
 
 Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd. 
 
 This brand she quenched in a cool well by. 
 
 Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, lo 
 
 Growing a bath and healthful remedy 
 
 For men diseased ; but I, my mistress' thrall, 
 
 Came there for cure, and this by that I prove. 
 Love's fire heats w^ater, water cools not love. 
 
 293
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Glossary. 
 
 Abuse, treat badly; xlii. 7. 
 
 Acquaintance; "to take a new 
 a. of thy mind," i.e. thy mind 
 will become anew acquainted 
 with its own thoughts " ; 
 Ixxvii. 12. 
 
 Act; "in a.," i.e. in reality; 
 clii. 3, 
 
 Adder's; "a. sense," alluding 
 to the alleged deafness of 
 the adder ; cxii. 10. 
 
 Adulterate, lewd; cxxi. 5. 
 
 Advance, raise, lift up; Ixxviii. 
 13. 
 
 Advantage, favourable oppor- 
 tunity ; cliii. 2. 
 
 Advised; "a. respects," delib- 
 erate consideration ; xlix. 4, 
 
 After-loss, later loss future 
 grief ; xc. 4. 
 
 Against, against the time 
 when; Ixiii. i. 
 
 ; "stand a.," endure; 
 
 xxxviii. 6. 
 
 Aggravate, increase ; cxlvi. 10. 
 
 All; "without a. bail," i.e. ac- 
 cepting no bail ; Ixxiv. 2. 
 
 All-oblivious, causing all to be 
 forgotten ; Iv. 9. 
 
 Allow, approve; cxii. 4. 
 
 Amazeth, confounds; xx. 8. 
 
 Ambush, insidious attacks ; 
 Ixx. 9. 
 
 Approve, prove; Ixx. 5. 
 
 Approve, find by experience ; 
 
 cxlvii. 7. 
 April, the month of Spring 
 
 flowers ; iii. 10. 
 A r g u m e n t, subject-matter ; 
 
 xxxviii. 3. 
 Art, learning; Ixvi. 9. 
 Arts, learning, letters ; Ixxviii. 
 
 12. 
 As, as for example ; Ixvi. 2. 
 Astonished, stunned ; Ixxxvi. 8. 
 Astronomy, astrology; xiv. 2. 
 A 1 1 ain t, blame, discredit ; 
 
 Ixxxii. 2. 
 
 Bail, out of prison ; cxxxiii. 10. 
 
 Bare; "all b.," all by itself, 
 merely ; ciii. 3. 
 
 Becoming of, making comely; 
 cxxvii. 13. 
 
 Befriends, benefits ; cxx. i. 
 
 Bears; " b. it out," i.e. endures ; 
 cxvi. 12. 
 
 B e at e d, beaten, battered 
 {"bated," '"bated," "beaten:' 
 have been unnecessarily sub- 
 stituted) ; Ixii. ID. 
 
 Begetter, prob.= inspirer (ac- 
 cording to others = getter) ; 
 Dedic. 
 
 Bereft, taken away, lost; v. 11. 
 
 Besides; " put b. his p.," i.e. 
 " put out " ; xxiii. 2. 
 
 Bestow, stow, lodge, shelter; 
 xxvi. 8. 
 
 294
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Bevel, slanting; cxxl. ii. 
 
 Blanks, blank pages (Quarto, 
 "blacks") ; Ixxvii. lo. 
 
 Blenches, aberrations; ex. 7. 
 
 Blood, passion ; cix. 10. 
 
 Blunt, clumsy; ciii. 7. 
 
 Bonds, claims; Ixxxvii. 4. 
 
 Bozver, habitation ; cxxvii. 7. 
 
 Brave, beautiful ; xii. 2. 
 
 , defy; xii. 14. 
 
 Bravery, splendour; xxxiv. 4. 
 
 Breathers; " the b. of this 
 world," i.e. " the present gen- 
 eration " ; Ixxxi. 12. 
 
 Bred, firmly established ; cxii. 
 13. 
 
 Canker, canker-worm ; xxxv. 
 
 4; Ixx. 7. 
 Canker-hlooms,^og-ros,Qs; liv.5. 
 Captain, chief; Hi. 8. 
 Carcanet, necklace ; Hi. S. 
 Case; " love's fresh c," i.e. 
 
 " love's new condition " ; 
 
 cviii. 9. 
 Cast; " cast his utmost sum," 
 
 closed the account ; xlix. 3. 
 Censures, judges; cxlviii, 4. 
 Charg'd, attacked; Ixx, 10. 
 Check, rebuff ; Iviii. 7. 
 Chest; "time's ch.," i.e. Time's 
 
 treasure-hold, the grave ; Ixv. 
 
 10. 
 Chopp'd, chapped, rent, rough- 
 ened; Ixii. 10. 
 Churl, niggard, miser; i. 12. 
 ' Cide, decide (Quarto, 
 
 "side")', xlvi. 9. 
 Clean, completely ; Ixxv. 10. 
 Comment, expatiate; Ixxxix. 2. 
 Compare, comparison; xxi. 5. 
 
 Compile, compose, write ; 
 Ixxviii. 9. 
 
 Conceit, conception ; xv. 9 ; 
 cviii. 13. 
 
 Confound, destroy ; Ix. 8. 
 
 Consecrate, consecrated; Ixxiv. 
 6. 
 
 Contents; "these c," i.e. what 
 is contained in these writ- 
 ings ; Iv. 3. 
 
 Contracted, betrothed; i. 5. 
 
 Controlling, rendering subordi- 
 nate, surpassing; xx. 7. 
 
 Convert, turn, change thy aim; 
 xiv. 12. 
 
 Converted, changed ; xlix. 7. 
 
 , turned away; vii. 11. 
 
 Convertest, dost turn away; xi. 
 
 4. 
 
 Copy, the original design ; xi. 
 
 14- 
 
 Correct ; " to c. correction," i.e. 
 
 " to perfect correction " ; 
 
 cxi. 12. 
 Cost, that on which money is 
 
 spent ; Ixiv, 2. 
 Count, account, reckoning; ii. 
 
 II. 
 Counterfeit, portrait; xvi. 8. 
 (rhyming with "set,"); 
 
 liii. 5. 
 Counterpart, exact reproduc- 
 tion; Ixxxiv. II. 
 Couplement, union (Quarto, 
 
 " cooplement") ; xxi. 5. 
 Courses, yearly courses ; lix. 6. 
 Critic, carper; cxii. 11. 
 Crooked, malignant ; Ix. 7. 
 Curious, fastidious, critical ; 
 
 xxxviii. 13. 
 
 Damask' d, variegated ; cxxx. 5. 
 
 295
 
 Glossary 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Date, limit ; xiv. 14. 
 Dateless, endless; xxx. 6. 
 
 , eternal ; cliii. 6. 
 
 Dates, terms of existence ; 
 
 cxxiii. 5. 
 Dear, loving; xlvi. 12. 
 Dearest, most intense ; xxxvii 3. 
 Debate, contest, quarrel; 
 
 Ixxxix. 13. 
 Debateth, combats (perhaps 
 
 discusses) ; xv. 11. 
 Decay, cause of ruin ; Ixxx, 14. 
 Dedicated; " d. words," i.e. 
 
 (probably) words of dedica- 
 tion ; Ixxxii. 3. 
 Defeat, destroy; Ixi. 11. 
 Defeated, defrauded; xx. 11. 
 Defect, fault, blameworthiness ; 
 
 Ixx. I. 
 
 , defects; cxlix. 11. 
 
 Defence, resistance ; cxxxix. 8. 
 Delves; '* d. the parallels," i.e. 
 
 " makes furrows " ; Ix, 10. 
 Denote, show; cxlviii. 7. 
 Departest, leavest ; xi. 2. 
 Determinate, determine, ended, 
 
 out of date ; Ixxxvii. 4. 
 Determination, end of (a legal 
 
 use) ; xiii. 6. 
 Disabled (quadri syllabic) ; 
 
 Ixvi. 8. 
 Discloses, uncloses, unfolds ; 
 
 liv. 8. 
 Dispense; " d. . . . with," 
 
 excuse; cxii. 12. 
 Distillation, perfumes distilled 
 
 from flowers; v. 9. 
 Doubting, suspecting; Ixxv. 6. 
 Dressings, trimmings up ; 
 
 cxxiii. 4. 
 Dro'p in, come in ; xc. 4. 
 Dullness, drowsiness; Ivi. 8. 
 
 Dwellers on, those who set 
 store on ; cxxv. 5. 
 
 Eager, sharp, acid ; cxviii. 2. 
 
 Effect, working efficiency ; 
 xxxvi. 7. 
 
 Effectually, in reality; cxiii. 4. 
 
 Eisel, vinegar; cxi. 10. 
 
 Enlarged; " envy, evermore 
 e. "; (?) a reference to the 
 Blatant Beast, tied up by 
 Calidore ; after a time he 
 broke his chain, " and got 
 into the world at liberty 
 again " {Faerie Queene, Bk. 
 VI.; Hales) ; Ixx. 12. 
 
 Enlighten, to shed lustre on ; 
 clii. II. 
 
 Ensconce, shelter; xlix. 9. 
 
 Entitled; " e. in thy parts." 
 i.e. "finding their title or 
 claim in thy qualities " 
 (Quarto, " e. in their 
 parts," ? = " having a just 
 claim to the first place as 
 their due"),; xxxvii. 7. 
 
 Envy (accented on second syl- 
 lable) ; cxxviii. 5. 
 
 Esteeming, estimation; cii. 3. 
 
 Estimate, value, valuation ; 
 Ixxxvii. 2. 
 
 Except, object to, refuse; 
 cxlvii. 8. 
 
 Exchanged, changed, altered ; 
 cix. 7. 
 
 Expense, loss; xxx. 8. 
 
 , expenditure, waste ; xciv. 
 
 6. 
 
 Expiate, bring to an end ; xxii. 
 
 4- 
 Extern, external show; cxxv. 
 
 2. 
 
 296
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Fair, beauty; xvi. ii. 
 
 Fairly, beauteously, in respect 
 of beauty; v. 4. 
 
 False; " f. esteem," spurious 
 reputation ; cxxvii. 12. 
 
 Fame, made famous; Ixxxiii. 
 II. 
 
 Favour, countenance ; cxiii. 10. 
 
 , outward appearance ; 
 
 cxxv. 5. 
 
 Fee, pledge, guarantee ; cxx. 
 13- 
 
 Fell, cruel, harsh ; Ixxiv. i. 
 
 Fester, corrupt, rot ; xciv. 14. 
 
 Filed, polished; Ixxxv. 4. 
 
 Fitted, started by paroxysms ; 
 cxix. 7. 
 
 Five wits, i.e. common wit, 
 imagination, fantasy, estima- 
 tion, memory ; cxli. 9. 
 
 Flourish, external beauty ; Ix. 
 9. 
 
 Foison, plenty, rich harvest ; 
 liii. 9. 
 
 Fond, foolish ; iii. 7, 
 
 ; "being f. on," i.^'. " dot- 
 ing on " ; Ixxxiv. 14. 
 
 Fools of time, i.e. the sports of 
 Time ; cxxiv. 13. 
 
 For, because ; xl. 6 ; liv. 9. 
 
 , for fear of ; Hi. 4. 
 
 ; " f . thy hand," i.e. "for 
 
 stealing the whiteness of thy 
 hand " ; xcix. 6. 
 
 'Fore, b ef o r e (Quarto. 
 " fore") ; vii. 11. 
 
 Foregone, past, previously en- 
 dured; XXX. 9. 
 
 Form, good semblance ; Ixxxix. 
 6. 
 
 Forzvard, early; xcix. i. 
 
 Foul, ugly ; cxxxvii. 12. 
 
 Frank, liberal ; iv. 4. 
 Free, liberal, bountiful ; iv. 4. 
 Frequent, intimate ; cxvii. 5. 
 Front; " summer's f.," i.e. 
 
 "summer's beginning"; cii. 
 
 7. 
 Fury, poetic inspiration ; c. 3. 
 
 Gaudy, gay, festive ; i. 10. 
 
 Gace, object gazed at; v. 2. 
 
 General, chief cause ; cliv. 7. 
 
 Give, to ascribe ; ex v. 14. 
 
 Go, walk; li. 14; cxxx. 11. 
 
 Gored; " g. mine own 
 thoughts,''' i.e. " wounded my 
 self-respect " ; ex. 3. 
 
 Gracious, full of grace, beau- 
 teous; Ixii. 5. 
 
 Greeing; " is g.," i.e. suits, 
 agrees; cxiv. 11. 
 
 Grind, whet ; ex. 10. 
 
 Grossly, manifestly ; xcix. 5. 
 
 Gust, taste ; cxiv. 11. 
 
 Habit, bearing; cxxxviii. 11. 
 
 Happier, more successful in 
 poetical expression; xxxii. 8. 
 
 Happies, makes happy; vi. 6. 
 
 Hearsay; " like of h. well " ( ?) 
 " fall in love with what has 
 been praised by others " ; per- 
 haps, better, " mere extrav- 
 agant talk"; xxi. 13. 
 
 Heavy, gloomy, morose ; xcviii. 
 4- 
 
 Height, angular altitude; cxvi. 
 8. 
 
 His, its ; ix. 10. 
 
 Horse, horses; xci. 4. 
 
 Hue, form; xx. 7. 
 
 Husbandry, economy; xiii. 10. 
 
 297
 
 Glossary 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Idle; " i. rank," i.e. " poor dig- 
 nity "; cxxii. 3. 
 
 Ill-wresting, trusting to a bad 
 sense; cxl. 11. 
 
 Imaginary, imaginative; xxvii. 
 
 9- 
 
 Imprison' d; " i. absence of your 
 liberty " ; i.e. " separation 
 from you, which is to me 
 like a prison, but which is 
 your rightful liberty " ; Iviii. 
 6. 
 
 Indigest, formless ; cxiv. 5. 
 
 Indirectly, artificially ; Ixvii. 7. 
 
 Inhearse, entomb ; Ixxxvi. 3. 
 
 Injurious, hostile ; xliv. 2. 
 
 Insults, exults ; cvii. 12. 
 
 Intend, direct ; xxvii. 6. 
 
 Interest, rightful claim ; xxxi. 
 
 7. 
 
 , property; Ixxiv. 3. 
 
 Invention, imagination; 
 
 xxxviii. 8. 
 Itself, its natural self, nature 
 
 itself; Ixviii. 10. 
 
 lacks, keys of the virginal ; 
 cxxviii. 5. The annexed di- 
 agram (by Fairholt) exhibits 
 the mechanism of the jack: 
 — a is the jack; b, the quill; 
 c, the bristle spring; d, the 
 cloth damper. The quill is 
 here shewn beside the jack: 
 its proper place is the groove 
 in the upper part of the jack, 
 the bristle being held in the 
 small hole seen there. 
 
 lust; "j. to the time," "punc- 
 tual to the time"; cix. 7. 
 
 Keeps, guards; cxxxiii. 11. 
 
 rfFH 
 
 J-j 
 
 h 
 
 Key, (rhyming with "sur- 
 vey") ; Hi. I. 
 Kindness, affection ; clii. 9. 
 
 Lace, embellish ; Ixvii. 4. 
 Lame; "made 1.," crippled 
 
 (used metaphorically) ; 
 
 xxxvii. 3. 
 Lameness, impaired condition 
 
 ( ? used metaphorically) ; 
 
 Ixxxix. 3. 
 Latch, catch ; cxiii. 6. 
 Lay, lay on ; ci. 7. 
 Learning, lesson; Ixxvii. 4. 
 Leese, lose ; v. 14. 
 Level, aim; cxvii. 11. 
 Light; " set me 1.," esteem me 
 
 lightly; Ixxxviii. i. 
 Like of, like, care for ; xxi. 13. 
 Limbecks, alembics ; cxix. 2. 
 Lines; " 1. of life," living lines, 
 
 living pictures {i.e. chil- 
 dren) ; xvi. 9. 
 Live, subsist; iv. 8. 
 Look, lo; xi. II. 
 Love; "1. for love," i.e. "Love, 
 
 on account of my love " ; li. 
 
 12. 
 
 298
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Lovely; "thy 1. argument," 
 i.e. " the theme of your love- 
 liness " ; Ixxix. 5. 
 
 Love's, mistress's ; xlii. 9. 
 
 Lusty, vigorous ; ii. 6. 
 
 Main; " m. of light," i.e. " flood 
 of light (into which a new- 
 born child is launched)"; Ix. 
 
 5- 
 Makeless, without a mate ; ix. 
 
 4. 
 
 Manner, courteous decorum ; 
 
 Ixxxv. I. 
 Map, pattern, picture, image ; 
 
 Ixviii. I. 
 Master, possess ; cvi. 8. 
 Master-mistress, the friend 
 
 who sways the poet's love as 
 
 if he were his mistress ; xx. 
 
 2. 
 Matter ; " no such m.," nothing 
 
 of the kind; Ixxxvii. 14. 
 Meetness, fitness ; cxviii. 7. 
 Melancholy (pronounced 
 
 " melanch'ly") ; xlv. 8. 
 Memory, memorials ; cxxii. 2. 
 Million'd, millionfold, innu- 
 merable ; cxv. 5. 
 Mind, thought ; lix. 8. 
 Minion, darling; cxxvi. 9. 
 Misprision, misfake, error ; 
 
 Ixxxvii. II. 
 Moan, bemoan ; xxx. 8. 
 Modern, ordinary, common; 
 
 Ixxxiii. 7. 
 Moiety, share, portion ; xlvi. 
 
 12. 
 More; " m. and less," i.e. 
 
 " high and low " ; xcvi. 3. 
 ; "the m.," i.e. the greater 
 
 faculty; xi. 11. 
 
 Mortal; " m. rage," the resist- 
 less power of destruction ; 
 Ixiv. 4. 
 
 Motley, fool, jester; ex. 2. 
 
 Mouthed, all-devouring ; Ixxvii. 
 6. 
 
 Music ; " m. to hear," i.e. thou, 
 to hear whom is music; viii. 
 I. 
 
 Neglect, being neglected by 
 others ; cxii. 12. 
 
 Nezver, more recent ; cxxiii. 2. 
 
 Niggarding, being miserly ; i. 
 12. 
 
 None; less than nothing (an- 
 tithetical to " one " ; per- 
 haps, however, there is an 
 allusion to the proverbial 
 saying " one is no num- 
 ber ") ; viii. 14. 
 
 Noted, familiar ; Ixxvi. 6. 
 
 Obsequious, funeral ; xxxi. 5. 
 
 , devoted, zealous ; cxxv. 9. 
 
 O'ergreen, cover with verdure, 
 embellish (Sewell, " o'er- 
 skreen " ; Steevens, " o'er- 
 grieve") ; cxii. 4. 
 
 O'erlook, peruse ; Ixxxii. 2. 
 
 O'erpress'd, over-strained ; 
 
 cxxxix. 8. 
 
 Offences ; " made old o. of af- 
 fections new," i.e. "each new 
 affection transgressed against 
 my old love " ; ex. 4. 
 
 Old; "my o. excuse," i.e. "the 
 excuse of my oldness"; ii. 
 II. 
 
 One on another's neck; one 
 after another; txxxi. 11. 
 
 Only, principal, chief; i, 10. 
 
 299
 
 Glossary 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Orphans; " hope of o.," i.e. 
 " expectation of the birth of 
 posthumous children"; 
 xcvii. 10. 
 
 Over-goes, transcends ; ciii. 7. 
 
 Owe, own, possess ; Ixx. 14. 
 
 Owest, possessest ; xviii. 10. 
 
 Pace forth, walk, go, proceed ; 
 
 Iv. 10. 
 Pain, punishment; cxli. 14. 
 Parallels, lines ; Ix. 10. 
 Part; " p. his function," i.e. 
 
 " divide its function " ; cxiii. 
 
 3- 
 
 Partake ; " with thee p.." i.e. 
 " take thy part " ; cxlix. 2. 
 
 Particular, objects; xci. 7. 
 
 Parts ; " p. of me," i.e. '^ shares 
 in me, claims upon me " ; 
 xxxi. II. 
 
 Pass; " no other p.," i.e. " no 
 other issue " ; ciii. 11. 
 
 Patent, privilege; Ixxxvii. 8. 
 
 Peace; "p. of you," i.e. "the 
 peace to be found in you," 
 or perhaps " the peaceable 
 possession of you " ; Ixxv. 3. 
 
 Perspective, used perhaps with 
 a play upon the two senses : 
 (i) "the science of perspec- 
 tive," and (ii) "a glass cut 
 in such a manner as to pro- 
 duce an optical deception 
 when looked through " (the 
 painter himself, i.e. the eye, 
 being the glass through 
 which the form must be 
 seen) ; xxiv. 4. 
 
 Pitch, height (lit. height to 
 which a falcon soars) ; vii. 9. 
 
 Plight, condition; xxviii. i. 
 
 Pluck, derive ; xiv. i. 
 
 Pointing, appointing; xiv. 6. 
 
 Policy, self-interest ; cxxiv. 9. 
 
 Politic, prudent; cxxiv. 11. 
 
 Predict; " oft p.," i.e. frequent 
 prediction ; xiv. 8. 
 
 Present, immediate; cxlix. 8. 
 
 Prevent'st, hinderest by antici- 
 pation ; c. 14. 
 
 Prick' d, marked; xx. 13. 
 
 Pride, proud conquest ; cli. ic. 
 
 Prime, spring; xcvii. 7. 
 
 Private, ordinary ; ix. 7. 
 
 Prising, " not p.," i.e. disre- 
 garding; cxliii. 8. 
 
 Proud-pied, gorgeously varie- 
 gated ; xcviii. 2. 
 
 Prove, ultimately become; viii. 
 
 14- 
 
 , find; Ixxii. 4. 
 
 Pyramids, used as symbolical of 
 what is grand and stupend- 
 ous ; cxxiii. 2. 
 
 Qualify, temper ; cix. 2. 
 
 Quest, inquest, or jury; xlvi. 
 10. 
 
 Question make, feel a doubt ; 
 xii. 9. 
 
 Quietus, discharge of obliga- 
 tion ; cxxvi. 14. 
 
 Rack; mass of floating cloud: 
 xxxiii. 6. 
 
 Ragged, rugged, rough; vi. i. 
 
 Ranged, gone away ; cix. 5. 
 
 Rank, sick; cxviii. 12. 
 
 Rearzvard; " in the r.," i.e. at 
 the end ; xc. 6. 
 
 Receipt, capacity, power of re- 
 ceiving and containing; 
 cxxxvi. 7. 
 
 300
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Reckoning, taking account of; 
 
 cxv. 5. 
 Record, history ; lix. 5. 
 Recured, restored ; xlv. 9. 
 Region, belonging to the upper 
 
 air ; xxxiii. 12. 
 Remember' d, reminded; cxx. 9. 
 Remove, fall away ; cxvi. 4. 
 Removed, passed ; xcvii. 5. 
 Render; " mutual r.," i.e. " give 
 
 and take " ; cxxv. 12. 
 
 , surrender ; cxxvi. 14. 
 
 Reneufd, thoroughly changed ; 
 
 cxi. 8. 
 Repair ; " fresh r.," renovation, 
 
 healthful condition ; iii. 3. 
 
 , renovate ; xvi. 9. 
 
 Reserve, preserve; xxxii. 7. 
 Respect, regard, consideration ; 
 
 xxvi. 12. 
 ; " but one r.," i.e. " one 
 
 matter for consideration " ; 
 
 perhaps " one affection," or 
 
 " perfect similarity " ; xxxvi. 
 
 5. 
 Resty, torpid ; c. 9. 
 Retention, means of preserving 
 
 impressions ( =: a table 
 
 book) ; cxxii. 9. 
 Revolt, faithlessness ; xcii. 10. 
 Rotten, damp, vapourish; 
 
 xxxiv. 4. 
 Roiindure, circle ; xxi. 8. 
 Ruinate, ruin ; x, 7. 
 Ruth, pity; cxxxii. 4. 
 
 Salutation; "give s.," i.e. "af- 
 fect in any manner, gratify or 
 mortify "; cxxi, 6. 
 
 Satire, " be a s, to decay," sat- 
 irise decay, mock decay 
 ( ? == satirist) ; c. 11. 
 
 Scope, power, range of 
 
 thought; xxix. 7. 
 Seconds, an inferior kind of 
 
 flour, base matter; cxxv. 11. 
 Seeing; " dead s.," i.e. " lifeless 
 
 appearance " ; Ixvii. 6. 
 Self-substantial, deriving its 
 
 substance from thyself; i. 6. 
 Sense, reason ; xxxv. 9. 
 Separable, causing separation ; 
 
 xxxvi. 6. 
 Service; " thy s.," i.e. service to 
 
 thee; cxlix. 10. 
 Set; " to s. a form," i.e. " by 
 
 giving a good semblance " ; 
 
 Ixxxix. 6. 
 Several; " a s. plot," i.e. " an 
 
 enclosed field " ; cxxxvii. 9. 
 Shady ; " s. stealth," i.e. " the 
 
 stealthy motion of the 
 
 shadow " ; Ixxvii. 7. 
 Show, appear ; cv. 2. 
 Simplicity, folly; Ixvi, 11. 
 Siren; cxix. i. The annexed 
 
 engraving of syrens is copied 
 
 from an illuminated MS. of 
 
 the fourteenth century. 
 
 Sit, be comprised; clii. 13. 
 
 Slept ; " have I s. in your re- 
 port," i.e. I have been slow 
 to tell your praises; 
 Ixxxiii. 5. 
 
 So, provided only; Ixx. 5. 
 
 301
 
 Glossary 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Soil, solution ; with a play upon 
 the more ordinary sense of 
 the word (Quarto, " solye " ; 
 Malone, "solve"; 1640 ed., 
 " soyle ") ; Ixix. 14. 
 
 Sourly, cruelly, harshly ; xxxv. 
 
 14. 
 
 Spirit, vital energy; cxxix. i. 
 Sportive, amorous, wanton ; 
 
 cxxi. 6. 
 Stain, grow dim, suffer eclipse; 
 
 xxxiii. 14. 
 State, estate, endowments, 
 
 glory ; xcvi. 12. 
 
 , rank, power; cxxi v. i. 
 
 Statute (used in legal sense), 
 
 " security, or obligation for 
 
 money " ; cxxxiv. 9. 
 Steal, glide away ; civ. 10. 
 Steel' d, hardened ; cxii. 8. 
 Steep-up, high and precipitous ; 
 
 vii. 5. 
 Steepy, having a steep decline ; 
 
 Ixiii. 5. 
 Stell'd, fixed (Quarto, 
 
 " steeld") ; xxiv. i. 
 Store; "made for s.," i.e. in- 
 crease, fertility, population ; 
 
 xi. 9. 
 Store's; " in thy s. account," i.e. 
 
 " in estimating the worth of 
 
 thy possessions " ; cxxxvi. 10. 
 Strained, forced, overwrought; 
 
 Ixxxii. 10. 
 Strange, distant ; Ixxxix. 8. 
 Strangely, distantly ; ex. 6. 
 Strangle, extinguish ; Ixxxix. 8. 
 Strength; " s. of laws," the 
 
 laws' support, perfect legal 
 
 right; xlix. 13. 
 Stretched, overstrained; xvii. 
 
 12, 
 
 Subscribes, yields ; cvii. 10. 
 
 Successive, by order of succes- 
 sion ; cxxvii. 3. 
 
 Sufferance, patient endurance; 
 Iviii. 7. 
 
 Suggest, tempt ; cxliv. 2. 
 
 Suit, clothe ; cxxxii. 12. 
 
 Suited, clad ; cxxvii. 10. 
 
 Sum, compute, cast up, settle ; 
 ii. II. 
 
 Summer's story, i.e. " gay fic- 
 tion " ; xcviii. 7. 
 
 Suspect, suspicion ; Ixx. 3. 
 
 Swift; " s. extremity " ; the ex- 
 treme of swiftness; li. 6. 
 
 Sympathised, described with 
 due appreciation; Ixxxii. 11. 
 
 Table, tablet ; xxiv. 2. 
 Tables, memorandum tablets ; 
 cxxii. I. (Cp. illustration.) 
 
 From Gesner's De rerum fossilium 
 figuris, 1565. 
 
 Tallies, notched sticks for keep- 
 ing accounts; cxxii. 10. 
 Tame, tamed; Iviii. 7. 
 
 302
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Tatter'd (Quarto, " totter' d,'* 
 an old form of the word) ; ii. 
 4; xxvi. II. 
 
 Tell, count; xxx. 10. 
 
 Terms, "(?) long periods of 
 time " (opposed to hours) ; 
 cxlvi. II. 
 
 That, so that ; xcviii. 4. 
 
 Thralled, kept down, held in 
 subjection; cxxiv. 7. 
 
 Thriftless, unprofitable ; ii. 8. 
 
 Time, the world, society; 
 cxvii. 6. 
 
 Time's fool, the sport of Time ; 
 cxvi. 9. 
 
 Times in hope, future times; 
 Ix. 13. 
 
 Tires, head-dresses ; liii. 8. 
 
 To; " t. have," i.e. " at hav- 
 ing"; Ixiv. 14. 
 
 Translated, changed; xcvi. 8. 
 
 Treasure, make rich ; vi. 3. 
 
 Triumphant, triumphal ; cli. 10. 
 
 Trust; " for fear of tr.," fear- 
 ing to trust myself ; xxiii. 5. 
 
 Truth, allegiance, troth, duty ; 
 xli. 12. 
 
 , (?) fidelity; ex. 5. 
 
 Twire, peep, twinkle ; xxviii. 
 12. 
 
 Tyrant ; " all t.," i.e. tyrannical 
 towards myself; (?) "thou 
 complete tyrant " ; cxlix. 4. 
 
 Unbless, neglect to make hap- 
 py; iii. 4. 
 
 Under thee, under thy aus- 
 pices ; Ixxviii. 4. 
 
 Unear'd, unploughed ; iii. 5. 
 
 Unfair, deprive of beauty ; v. 4. 
 
 Unhappily, mischievously; 
 Ixvi. 4. 
 
 Unlook'd for, disregarded ; 
 
 XXV. 4. 
 Unprovident, improvident ; x, 2. 
 Unrespected, unnoticed ; xliii. 2. 
 
 , unregarded ; liv. 10. 
 
 Unthrift, prodigal, spendthrift; 
 
 ix. 9. 
 Untrue, untruly; Ixxii. 10. 
 Use, interest; vi. 5; cxxxiv. 
 
 10. 
 User, possessor ( S e w e 1 1 , 
 
 " us'rer") ; ix. 12. 
 
 Vade, fade ; liv. 14. 
 
 Vaunt, mount upwards ; xv. 7. 
 
 View, what it sees ; cxli. 4. 
 
 Warrantise, security; cl. 7. 
 Waste ; " w. of " shame," i.e. 
 
 " shameful waste " ; cxxix. i. 
 Wasteful, devastating; Iv. 5. 
 Wastes; " w. of time," i.e. " the 
 
 things devastated by Time " ; 
 
 xii. 10. 
 Weed, garment ; ii. 4. 
 When as, when ; xlix. 3. 
 Where, to the place where, to 
 
 where ; xliv. 4. 
 Whether; " w. better they " 
 
 (monosyllabic ; Quarto, 
 
 " where ") ; lix. 11. 
 Wills; " in their w.," i.e. " ac- 
 cording to their pleasure " ; 
 
 cxxi. 8. 
 Wink, shut the eyes; xliii. i. 
 ; " w. with fulness," i.e. 
 
 " close as after a full meal " ; 
 
 Ivi. 6. 
 Woo'd; "being w. of time"; 
 
 (?) = " when the course of 
 
 time has smiled on it" 
 
 (others, " being tempted by 
 
 303
 
 Glossary 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 the present time " ; or, " be- 
 ing tempted in thy youth") ; 
 Ixx. 6. 
 
 Worth, (?) "stellar influ- 
 ence " ; cxvi. 8. 
 
 Wreck ful, destructive (Quarto, 
 " wrack full"); Ixv. 6. 
 
 Wrought; " so much of earth 
 and water w.," i.e. " so much 
 
 of the elements of earth and 
 water being wrought into my 
 nature"; xliv. ii. 
 
 Yoimgly, in the period of 
 
 youth ; xi. 3. 
 Yourself, your very self, truly 
 
 yours, master of yourself; 
 
 xiii. I. 
 
 'SO4
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Critical Notes. 
 
 BY ISRAEL GOLLANCZ. 
 
 XV. 4. 'And . . . all'; so Malone; Quarto, 'And . . . 
 or/ 
 
 XVI. 10. 'this, . . . pen'; Quarto, 'this (Time's pensel o'l 
 my pupill pen)'; Massey conj. 'this time's pencil, or my pupil 
 pen' ; this reading is accepted by several editors, who interpret the 
 first clause to refer either to some particular artist, or to any 
 painter of the time. 
 
 XIX 5. 'Ueet'st'; so Quarto; Dyce, 'fleets' (rhyming with 
 'sweets') ; cp. VIII. 7. 
 
 XX. 7. ' Jiue, all "lines"'; Quarto, ' heiL' all Hews' {Hews in 
 italics). 
 
 XXI. 5. ' conplemcnt' ; Quarto. ' cooplcment.' 
 
 XXV. 9-11. 'fight , . . quite'; Malone (Theobald conj.); 
 Quarto, ' wortli . . . quite'; Theobald conj. 'worth . . . 
 /or^/z '; Capell MS., ' «r/^/;^ . . . quite.' 
 
 XXVII. 10. 'thy'; Quarto, 'their'; a common mistake in the 
 Sonnets, evidently due to the ' y ' being taken for e with the mark 
 of contraction for ' /;-/ 
 
 XXVIII. 13. 14. 'longer . . . strength seem stronger '; Ca- 
 pell MS. and Collier Conj.; Quarto, 'longer . . . length seenie 
 stronger.' 
 
 XXXI. 8. ' thee ' ; Quarto, ' there.' 
 
 XXXIV. 10-12. 'loss . . . cross'; Quarto, ' losse . . . 
 losse.' 
 
 XXXIV. 13. si ds'; Quarto, ' shecds' ■ ( rhy m'lng, with 
 ' deeds'). 
 
 XXXIX. 12. ' doth ' ; Quarto, ' dost.' 
 
 XL. 7. ' thyself ' ; Quarto. ' this selfe.' 
 
 XLI. 8. ' she have ' ; Tyrwhitt conj. ; Quarto. ' he haue ' ; Ewing, 
 ' he has.' 
 
 XLVII. II. 'not'; so ed. 1640; Quarto, 'nor.' 
 
 XLIX. io. 'desert' ; Quarto, ' desart ' (rhyming with ' part'). 
 
 305
 
 Notes SONNETS 
 
 LI. II. 'neigh — no dull Hesli — ' (Malone) ; Quarto, ' naigh noc 
 dull flesh ' ; prob. the reading of the quarto is correct, ' neigh ' ^ 
 ' neigh after,' ' neigh to,' cp. " They were fed horses in the morn- 
 ing; everyone neighed after his neighbour's wife," Jeremiah v. 8. 
 
 LV. I. 'monuments'; Quarto, 'monument.' 
 
 LVI. 13. 'Or'; Tyrwhitt conj. and Capell MS.; Quarto, 'As'\ 
 Anon. conj. 'Ah! ' ; ' Else.' 
 
 LVII. 13. 'will'; Quarto, 'Will'; Massey conj. '"Will:" 
 
 LXII. 7. ' And for myself' i.e. * and for my own satisfaction,' 
 or perhaps the words merely emphasize the statement. 
 
 LXV. 12. 'of; Malone; Quarto, 'or'; Capell MS., 'o'er'; 
 Gildon, ' on.' 
 
 LXIX. 3. 'that due'; Capell MS. and Tyrwhitt conj.; Quarto, 
 ' that end ' ; Sewell (ed. 2), ' thy due.' 
 
 LXX. I. 'art: ed. 1640; Quarto, 'are: 
 
 6. 'Thy'; Capell MS.; Quarto, 'their: 
 
 LXXIII. 4. 'Bare ruin'd choirs'; Quarto, 'Bare rn'ivd qiiiers: 
 
 LXXIV. 14. ' that is this,' i.e. my spirit is my poetrv. 
 
 LXXVI. 7. 'tell'; Capell MS.; Quarto, ' fel'; Lintott, 'fell'; 
 Nicholson conj. ' spelL' 
 
 LXXVII. ' Probably this sonnet was designed to accompany a 
 present of a book consisting of blank paper' (Steevens). 
 
 LXXXV. 3. 'Reserve their'; Tyler (Anon. conj. MS.), 'Re- 
 hearse thy,' a more plausible reading than ' preserve their: ' de- 
 serve their,' etc., and other suggestions which have been advanced ; 
 their is probably some error in the text as printed. 
 
 LXXXVI. 13. 'fiird'; Quarto, 'fild'; Malone. ' fil'd: 
 
 XCIV. 14. cp. Edward III. ii. i (printed in 1596^ : — 
 
 '' Poison shows zuorst in a golden cup ; 
 Dark night seems darker by the lightning flash; 
 'Lilies that fester seem far worse than weeds; 
 And every glory, that inclines to sin, 
 The same is treble by the opposite." 
 
 XCV. 12. ' turn ' ; Quarto, ' turnes: 
 
 XCIX. A fifteen-lined sonnet ; the first line serves as a sort of 
 introduction, standing outside the sonnet. 
 
 XCIX. 15. 'sweet'; S. Walker conj. '.yc^w/.* 
 
 CI I. 8. ' her/ Housman ; Quarto, ' his: 
 
 CVI. 12. 'skill'; Tyrwhitt conj. and Capell MS.; Quarto, ' .yfi/// 
 
 CVII. 8. It has been suggested that this is a possible allusion to 
 the peace completed in 1609, which ended the war between Spain 
 
 306
 
 SONNETS Notes 
 
 and the United Provinces; but this is merely a random sugges- 
 tion. 
 
 CVIII. 3. ' nczv . . . new' Malone ; Quarto. ' nczv . . . 
 nozi''; S. Walker conj. ' nozv . . . nozv.' 
 
 CXII. 8. 'or changes'; Malone conj. 'e'er cJiangcs'; Knight 
 conj. 'so changes:' 
 
 14. 'besides metJiinks arc' Capell MS. and Steevens conj.: 
 Quarto, 'besides me thinkes y' are ' ; Dyce, 'besides mcthinks 
 they 're.' 
 
 CXTII. 6. 'latch'; Quarto, 'lack.' 
 
 CXIII. 14. ' uiaketh mine untrue'; so Quarto: Capell MS. and 
 Malone conj. 'makes mine eye untrue' ; Collier conj. ' maketh my 
 eyne untrue'; Malone conj. 'thy most true mind maketh mine 
 untrue.' 
 
 CXIX. 14. 'ill,' Malone: Quarto, 'ills.' 
 
 CXX. 6. ' you 've ' ; Quarto, ' y' haue.' 
 
 CXXIII. 7. ' them,' i.e. ' zvhat thou dost foist upon us.' 
 
 CXXIV. 13-14. ' The fools of time,' etc. Tyler sees in these 
 lines a reference to the popular repute of Essex as the " good 
 earl," notwithstanding the " crimes " for which he and certainly 
 his companions were executed : the allusion is probably more gen- 
 eral, and perhaps, as Palgrave observes, to " the plotters and politi- 
 cal martyrs of the time." 
 
 CXXVI. This short poem is of six rhymed couplets : it was evi- 
 dently not intended to pass as an ordinary sonnet, tho' after the 
 last line an omission of two lines is marked in the quarto by two 
 pairs of parentheses. It is the enz'oy, the conclusion of one series 
 of sonnets. 
 
 2. 'sickle, hour'; Quarto, 'sickle, hower'; perhaps we should 
 read 'sickle hour'; other suggestions, unsatisfactory for the most 
 part, are, ' tickle mozver ' ; ' tickle hoar ' ; ' sickle hoar ' ; etc. 
 
 CXXVII. 9-10. ' eyes . . . eyes' Quarto : Capell MS., ' eyes 
 . . . /imV,s'; S. Walker and Delius conj. '/zai>,y . . . eyes'; 
 Staunton and Brae con. ' brozvs . . . eyes, etc. 
 
 CXXIX. II. 'proved, a very' Capell MS.; Quarto, 'proud and 
 z'ery.' 
 
 CXXXV. 13. 'no unkind, no'; Dowden conj. 'no unkind 
 "No"'; Rossetti proposed 'skill,' i.e. "avail" instead of 'kill.' 
 
 CX XXVII. f/). Passionate Pilgrim, I. 
 
 CXLII. 6-7. c/>. Edward III. ii. i: — 'His cheeks put on their 
 scarlet ornaments.' 
 
 CXLIII. I. ' housezvife' ; Quarto. ' huszinfe.' 
 
 307
 
 Notes SONNETS 
 
 13. • have thy " Will " ' ; cp. Preface. 
 
 CXLIV. cp. Passionate Pilgrim, II. 
 
 6. ' side ' ; so Passionate Pilgrim, and Capell MS, ; Quarto, 
 ' sight: 
 
 9. 'fiend'; Quarto, 'iinde'; Passionate Pilgrim, ' feende.' 
 
 CXLV. The only sonnet in Shakespeare in eight-syllable verse. 
 
 CXLVI. 1-2. 'earth . . . these rebel'; Quarto, 'earth, My 
 sinfull earth these rebbell ' ; Malone, ' earth, Fool'd by those rebel '; 
 Steevens, ' earth, Starv'd by the rebel ' ; Dowden, '' earth {Press' d 
 by] these rebel! etc. Probably any one of these readings comes 
 near the original ; in this case array = clothe. Ingleby renders the 
 word " abuse, afflict, ill-treat " ; he reads, ' leagu'd ivith,' and takes 
 the participle in close conjunction with 'earth/ This rendering 
 is ingenious, but very doubtful. 
 
 CLII. 13. '/'; Quarto, ".o'^-' 
 
 308
 
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