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THE    LARGER 
TEMPLE    SHAKESPEARE 


By  the  kind  permission  of  Messrs  Macmillan  tS*  Co. 
and  W.  Aldis  Wright,  Esq.,  the  text  hire 
used  is  that  of  the  '  '•  Cambridge  "  Edition.  In 
the  present  issue  of  the  ' '  Temple  Shakespeare  " 
the  Editor  has  introduced  some  feiv  textual 
changes ;  these  ha-ue  been  carefully  noted  in 
each  case. 


___ 


THE   WORKS 


OF 


SHAKESPEARE 


EDITED    BY 


ISRAEL  GOLLANCZ 


VOLUME  TWELVE 


LIFE    OF 
SHAKESPEARE 

VENUS    AND 
ADONIS,    ETC. 


RAPE  OF 
LUCRECE 
SONNETS 


WITH  MANY  ILLUSTRATIONS, 
ANTIQUARIAN  AND  TOPOGRAPHICAL 


LONDON 
J.    M.    DENT   iff   CO. 

ALDINE    HOUSE 

29  &  30  BEDFORD  STREET,  W.C. 
I  900 


"  Remember  to  peruse  Shakespears  plays  and 
he  versed  in  fhetn^  that  I  may  not  be  ignorant 
in  that  matter'' 

From  the  Diary  of  the  Rev.  John  Ward, 
Vicar  of  Stratford-on-  Avon  (  1 662  ) 


8RLF, 
URL 

N/.IZ 


ANNALS 

OF  THE 

LIFE    OF   SHAKESPEARE 


Shakespeare's  Birthplace,  1769. 
{From  the  GentUtnarCs  Magazine.') 

1564-  In  the  Parish  Register  preserved  in  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Stratford-on-Avon,  Warwickshire,  is  en- 
shrined the  following  brief  record  of  Shakespeare's  nativity — the 
entry  of  his  baptism,  which,  it  may  be  assumed,  took  place  during 
the  first  week  of  the  child's  life  : — 

1564.      April  26.      Gul'ielmus  Jil'ius  Johannes  Shahspere. 


Z2. 
2^ 


(Facsimile  of  the  Registry  of  Shakespeare's  Baptism.  ) 


*  A  fuller  "Introduction  to  Shakespeare  "  is  in  course  of  preparation 
by  the  present  writer. 
"3 


1564  ANNALS  OF  THE 

A  fairly  old  tradition  fixes  April  22  or  23  as  the  poet's  birthday ; 
the  latter  date,  the  day  of  St  George,  England's  patron  saint,  is 
fittingly  associated  with  the  birth  of  England's  national  poet. 

The  researches  of  generations  of  students  have  put  us  in  posses- 
sion of  many  minute  facts  connected  with  Shakespeare's  family 
history,  with  the  environments  of  his  early  life,  and  with  the  various 
elements  that  may  have  contributed  to  the  fostering  of  his  mighty 
intellect. 

The  "  Johannes  Shakespeare,"  William  Shakespeare's  father, 
mentioned  in  the  entry  of  baptism,  was  a  person  of  importance  in 
the  borough  at  the  time  of  the  birth  of  his  first  son  and  third  child. 
The  son  of  Richard  Shakespeare,  a  farmer  of  Snitterfield,  a  village 
about  three  miles  distant,  he  appears  to  have  settled  at  Stratford 
about  1 55 1,  and  to  have  traded  in  all  sorts  of  agricultural  produce 
and  the  like.  The  municipal  books  attest  his  growing  prosperity, 
though  the  earliest  notice,  in  April  1552,  refers  to  a  fine  paid  by 
him  for  having  a  dirt-heap  before  his  house  in  Henley  Street. 
Successively  "ale-taster,"  town  councillor,  one  of  the  four  con- 
stables of  the  court-leet,  affeeror  (/.<?.  an  assessor  of  fines  for 
offences  not  expressly  penalised  by  statute),  chamberlain,  he 
attained  to  the  rank  of  alderman  in  1565,  head-bailiff  in  1568, 
and  chief  alderman  in  1571. 

John  Shakespeare's  prosperity  seems  to  date  from  the  time  of 
his  marriage,  in  1557,  with  Mary,  youngest  daughter  of  Robert 
Arden,  a  wealthy  farmer  of  Wilmcote,  Aston  Cantlowe,  near 
Stratford,  probably  distantly  connected  with  the  ancient  and  dis- 
tinguished Arden  family  of  Warwickshire.  Robert  Arden 
possessed  property  at  Snitterfield,  and  among  his  tenants  there  was 
Richard  Shakespeare,  John's  father.  Mary  Arden  was  the 
youngest  of  seven  daughters  ;  her  father,  dying  in  1556,  left  her 
the  chief  property  at  Wilmcote,  called  Ashbies,  extending  to  fifty- 
four  acres,  together  with  a  sum  of  money  ;  she  had  also  an  interest 
in  some  property  at  Snitterfield ;  with  her  sister  Alice  she  was  ap- 
pointed executrix  of  her  father's  will. 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 


1571 


On  September  15,  1558,  their  first  child,  Joan,  was  baptised  in 
the  church  of  Holy  Trinity  ;  the  second,  Margaret,  on  December 
2,  1562  ;  both  children  died  in  infancy. 

Two  or  three  months  after  the  birth  of  their  third  child,  William, 
a  terrible  plague  ravaged  Stratford. 

The  birth-place  of  the  poet  was  in  one  of  two  adjoining  houses 
in  Henley  Street,  possibly  in  the  room  now  shown  to  reverent 
pilgrims.  Of  the  two  houses  upon  the  north  side  of  the  street,  the 
/« 


The  Village  of  Wilmecote  or  Wincot  in  1852. 

one  on  the  east  was  purchased  by  John  Shakespeare  in  i  556,  but  that 
on  the  west  (though  there  is  nothing  connecting  it  with  him  before 
1575)  has  been  known  *'  from  time  immemorial  "  as  *'  Shakespeare's 
Birthplace,"  perhaps  from  the  circumstance  of  its  being  occupied 
until  1806  by  descendants  of  the  poet, 

1568-9.  As  bailiff,  John  Shakespeare  entertained  actors 
at  Stratford,  the  Queen's  and  Earl  of  Worcester's  companies — 
evidently  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  town. 

1 571'  -^t  the  age  of  seven,  according  to  the  custom 
of  the  time,  William  Shakespeare's  school-life  probably  began  : 
he    no   doubt  entered    the    Free    Grammar   School    at    Stratford, 


1577 


ANNALS  OF  THE 


known  as  "  the  King's  New  School."  The  teaching  at  the  school 
during  Shakespeare's  school-course  was  under  efficient  control ; 
Walter  Roche,  Fellow  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  and  rector  of 
Clifford,  was  appointed  master  in  1570,  and  Thomas  Hunt,  curate 
(and  subsequently  vicar)  of  the  neighi)Ouring  village  of  Luddington, 
held  the  office  in  1577. 


Court  yard  of  the  Grammar  School,  Stratford. 
{From  an  engraving  by  Fair/wit.) 

1575.  Queen   Elizabeth  visited  the  Earl  of  Leicester 

at  Kenilworth.  William  may  have  witnessed  the  Kenilworth 
festivities ;  in  the  next  year  two  accounts  were  published  [cp. 
Preface  to  Midsummer  Night^s  Dream). 

1577-8.  About  this  time  William  was  removed  from 

school,  owing  to  his  father's  financial  difficulties.  Fourteen  was 
the  usual  age  for  boys  to  leave  school  and  commence  apprentice- 
ship, if  they  were  not  preparing  for  a  scholarly  career. 

The  Stratford  records  give  us  the  clearest  evidence  that  .John 
Shakespeare's  prosperity  had  come  to  an  end  :  his  attendance  at 
the  council  meetings  became  more  and  more  irregular,  and  he  was 
unable   to  pay,  in   1578,  an    assessment  of  fourpence  weekly  for 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1582 

the  relief  of  the  poor  levied  on  the  aldermen  of  the  borough,  and  in 
1579  a  levy  for  the  purchase  of  weapons.  In  the  former  year  he 
was  forced  to  mortgage  "the  land  in  Wilmcotc  called  Ashbics  " 
for  ;^40  to  IZdmund  Lambert,  his  brother-in-law,  to  revert  if 
repayment  were  made  before  Michaelmas  i  580  :  in  the  latter  year, 
their  interest  in  the  Snitterfield  property  was  sold  for  j£^o  to 
Robert  Webbe  (Alexander  Webbe  was  the  husband  of  Agnes 
Arden,  Shakespeare's  aunt).  Towards  Michaelmas  1580  John 
Shakespeare  sought  to  redeem  the  Wilmcote  estate  from  Edmund 
Lambert,  but  his  proposal  was  rejected  on  the  plea  that  there 
were  other  unsecured  debts. 

On  September  6,  i  586,  John  Shakespeare  was  deprived  of  his 
position  on  the  council,  on  the  ground  that  he  "  doth  not  come  to 
the  halls  when  warned,  nor  hath  not  done  of  long  time."  About 
this  time  he  lost  an  action  brought  against  him  by  one  Jolm  Brown, 
and  it  is  reported  that  ^^  predict  us  Johannes  Shachspere  nihil  habet 
unde  distringi  potest,"  i.e.  "  the  aforesaid  John  Shakspeare  has 
no  goods  on  which  distraint  can  be  levied." 

There  were  in  all  eight  children  born  to  John  Shakespeare : — 
Two  daughters  who  died  in  infancy  ;  William  ;  Gilbert,  baptised 
October  13,  1566  (living  at  Stratford  in  1609)  ;  Joan,  baptised 
April  15,  1569,  married  William  Hart  of  Stratford  (died  in 
1646)  ;  Anne,  baptised  September  28,  1571  (died  in  1579)  ; 
Richard,  baptised  March  11,  1574  (died  at  Stratford  in  1613)  ; 
Edmund,  baptised  May  3,  1580  (became  an  actor,  and  died  in 
London  in  December  1607). 

Nothing  is  defmitely  known  concerning  William's  occupation  on 
his  withdrawal  from  school.  The  oldest  local  tradition  seems  to 
point  to  his  being  apprenticed  to  "  a  butcher," — perhaps  to  his  own 
father,  who  is  variously  described  as  "a  dealer  in  wool,"  "a 
glover,"  "  a  husbandman,"  "  a  butcher,"  and  the  like. 

1582.  In  November  of  this  year  William  Shakespeare 

married  Anne   Hathaway,  who  it  would  seem  was  the  daughter 


1582 


ANNALS  OF  THE 


(otherwise  called  Agnes)  of  Richard  Hathaway,  husbandman  of 
the  little  village  to  the  west  of  Stratford  called  Shottery ;  he  had 
died  during  the  year,  his  will,  dated  September  i,  1581,  being 
proved  on  July  9,  i.e.  some  four  months  before  the  marriage. 

Anne  Hathaway  was  twenty-seven  years  old,  and  William 
Shakespeare  nineteen,  when  they  became  man  and  wife.  The 
marriage  did  not  take  place  at  Stratford,  but  possibly  at  Luddington 


Ann  Hathaway's  Cottage,  1827. 

(three  miles  from  Stratford  and  one  from  Shottery  J,  or  at  Temple 
Grafton  (about  four  miles  from  Stratford), — the  registers  of  the 
old  churches  have  disappeared.  It  is  curious  to  note  that  in  the 
Episcopal  registers  at  Worcester  there  is  a  record  of  a  license  for  a 
marriage  between  "  Willielmum  Shaxpere  and  Annam  Whateley 
de  Temple  Grafton"  dated  27th  of  November  1582,  where 
"Whateley"  may  be  an  error  for  "  Hathwey,"  due  to  some 
exceptional  accident  or  intended  disguise ;  possibly  (but  less 
likely)  the  entry  refers  to  some  other  "William  Shakespeare." 
There  is,  however,  preserved  in  the  Bishop's   Registry  at  Wor- 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1587 

cester,  a  bond  dated  November  28,  1582,  "against  impediments," 
in  anticipation  of  the  marriage  of  Shakespeare  and  Anne  Hathaway 
— "  WiUiam  Shagspere  one  thone  parte,  and  Anne  Hathwcy  of 
Stratford  in  the  dioces  of  Worcester,  maiden  "  ;  by  this  deed  Fulke 
Sandells  and  John  Richardson,  husbandmen  of  Stratford  (but  more 
specilically  farmers  of  Shottery,  the  former  being  "  supervisor  "  of 
Richard  Hathaway's  will)  bound  themselves  in  a  surety  of  ;;^40 
to  "  defend  and  save  harmless  the  right  reverend  Father  in  God, 
John  Lord  Bishop  of  Worcester "  against  any  complaint  that 
might  ensue  from  allowing  the  marriage  between  William  and  Anne 
with  only  once  asking  of  the  banns  of  matrimony.  There  is  no 
reference  to  the  bridegroom's  parents  ;  and  all  considerations  seem 
to  point  to  the  conclusion  that  the  marriage  was  hastened  on  by  the 
friends  of  the  bride. 

1583.  May  26  ;  under  this  date  we  find  the  baptism  of 

Susanna,  daughter  of  William  Shakespeare ;  on  February  2nd, 
1585,  were  baptised  his  twin  children,  Hamnet  and  Judith,  named 
after  his  Stratford  friends  Hamnet  and  Judith  Sadler. 

1587.  On  April  23rd  of  this  year  was  buried  Edmund 

Lambert,  the  mortgagee  of  Ashbies  ;  in  September  a  formal  pro- 
posal was  made  that  his  son  and  heir,  John,  should,  on  cancelling 
the  mortgage  and  paying  ^^^o,  receive  from  the  Shakespeares  an 
absolute  title  to  the  estate.  "  Johannes  Shackespere  and  Maria 
uxor  ejus,  simulcum  Willielmo  Shackespere  filio  suo,"  were  parties 
to  this  proposed  arrangement,  which,  however,  was  not  carried  out, 
as  we  learn  from  a  Bill  of  Complaint  brought  by  the  poet's  father 
against  John  Lambert  in  the  Court  of  Queen's  Bench,  1589. 
There  is  no  evidence  that  William  was  at  Stratford  at  the  time 
of  the  negotiations.  In  this  same  year,  1587,  no  less  than  five 
companies  of  actors  visited  Stratford-on-Avon,  including  the 
Queen's  Players  and  those  of  Lord  Essex,  Leicester,  and 
Stafford.     Between  the  years   1576  and   1587,  with  the  excep- 


1587  ANNALS  OF  THE 

tion  of  the  year  1578,  the  town  was  yearly  visited  by  companies 
of  players. 

It  may  be  inferred  that  these  visits  of  the  actors  to  Stratford 
stimulated  Shakespeare's  latent  genius  for  the  drama,  and  so  caused 
him,  under  stress  of  circumstances,  to  seek  his  fortunes  with  the 
London  players.  According  to  a  well-authenticated  tradition, 
borne  out  by  allusions  in  his  own  writings,  the  direct  cause  of  his 
leaving  Stratford  was  the  well-known  poaching  incident — the  deer- 
stealing  from  the  park  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  at  Charlecote,  about 
four  miles  from  Stratford.  "For  this"  (according  to  Rowe's 
account  in  1709)  "he  was  prosecuted  by  that  gentleman,  as  he 
thought,  somewhat  too  severely  ;  and  in  order  to  revenge  that  ill- 
usage  he  made  a  ballad  upon  him,  and  though  this,  probably  the 
first  essay  of  his  poetry,  be  lost,  yet  it  is  said  to  have  been  so  very 
bitter  that  it  redoubled  the  prosecution  against  him  to  that  degree 
that  he  was  obliged  to  leave  his  business  and  family  in  Warwick- 
shire and  shelter  himself  in  London."  It  is  just  possible  that  the 
lampoon  on  Lucy  may  be  more  or  less  preserved  in  the  following 
rather  poor  verses,  recorded  by  Oldys,  on  the  authority  of  a  very 
aged  gentleman  living  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Stratford,  where  he 
died  in  1703  :— 

"  A  parliament  member,  a  justice  of  peace. 

At  home  a  poor  scare-crow,  at  London  an  asse: 
If  lousy  is  Lucy,  as  some  volk  miscall  it, 
Then  Lucy  is  lousy,  whatever  befall  it: 
He  thinks  himself  great, 
Yet  an  ass  in  his  state 
We  allow  by  his  ears  but  with  asses  to  mate. 
If  Lucy  is  lousy,  as  some  volk  miscall  it, 
Sing  lousy  Lucy,  whatever  befall  it." 

It  is  noteworthy  that  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  was  a  bitter  persecutor 
of  those  who  secretly  favoured  the  old  Faith,  and  acted  as  Chief 
Conmiissioner  for  the  County  of  Warwick,  "touching  all  such 
persons  as   either   have   been  presented,   or   have   been   otherwise 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 


1587 


found  out  to  be  Jesuits,  seminary  priests,  fugitives,  or  recusants 
...  or  vehemently  suspected  of  such."  In  the  second  return, 
dated  1592,  Jolin  Shakespeare's  name  is  included  among  nine  who 
"  it  is  said  come  not  to  church  for  fear  of  process  of  debt,"  but  he 
was  possibly  under  suspicion  for  some  worse  fault. 

We  have  no  separate  information  concerning  Shakespeare  be- 
tween 1587  and  1592,  and  we  cannot  fix  with  absolute  certainty 
the  date  of  his  leaving  Stratford ;  but  in  all  probability  it  may 
safely  be  assigned  to  1585-7.      He  may  have  been  in  London  at 


A  bird's-eye  view  of  Charlecote  in  1722. 

the  time  of  the  national  mourning  for  Sir  Philip  Sidney  at  the  end 
of  1586,  and  may  even  have  seen  the  famous  funeral  procession. 
It  should,  however,  be  noted  that,  so  far  as  the  stage  was  con- 
cerned, there  was  no  employment  in  town  for  Shakespeare  during 
1586,  when  the  theatres  were  closed  owing  to  the  prevalence  of 
the  plague. 

The  traditional  accounts  of  his  first  connection  with  the  theatres 
are  evidently  fairly  authentic  : — In  "Aubrey's  Lives  of  Eminent 
Men"  (r.  1680)  it  is  stated  that  "this  Wm.  being  inclined  naturally 
to  poetry  and  acting,  came  to  London  I  guesse  about  iS,  and  was 
an  actor  at  one  of  the  play-houses  and  did  act  exceedingly  well." 


1587  ANNALS  OF  THE 

The  old  parish  clerk  of  Stratford  narrated  in  1693,  being  about 
eighty  years  old  at  the  time,  that  "  this  Shakespeare  was  formerly 
in  this  town  apprentice  to  a  butcher,  but  that  he  ran  from  his  master 
to  London,  and  there  was  received  into  the  play-house  as  a  servi- 
ture,  and  by  this  means  had  an  opportunity  to  be  what  he  afterwards 
proved."  Rowe's  account  (1709)  is  even  more  Hkely : — "He 
was  received  into  the  company  then  in  being,  at  first,  in  a  very 
mean  rank ;  but  his  admirable  wit,  and  the  natural  turn  of  it  to  the 
stage,  soon  distinguished  him,  if  not  as  an  extraordinary  actor,  yet 
as  an  excellent  writer." 

In  1753  the  compiler  of  the  "  Lives  of  the  Poets  "  states  that 
Shakespeare's  "  first  expedient  was  to  wait  at  the  door  of  the  play- 
house, and  hold  the  horses  of  those  that  had  no  servants,  that  they 
might  be  ready  again  after  the  performance."  Rowe  does  not 
mention  this  tradition,  though  he  is  said  to  have  received  it  from 
Betterton,  who  heard  it  from  D'Avenant.  Dr.  Johnson  elaborated 
the  story,  adding,  we  know  not  on  what  authority,  that  "  he  be- 
came so  conspicuous  for  his  care  and  readiness  that  in  a  short  time 
every  man  as  he  alighted  called  for  Will  Shakespeare,  and  scarcely 
any  other  waiter  was  trusted  with  a  horse  while  Will  Shake- 
speare could  be  had.  This  was  the  first  dawn  of  better  fortune. 
Shakespeare,  finding  more  horses  put  into  his  hand  than  he 
could  hold,  hired  boys  to  wait  under  his  inspection,  who,  when 
Will  Shakespeare  was  summoned,  were  immediately  to  present 
themselves  :  '  I  am  Shakespeare's  boy,  sir.'  In  time  Shake- 
speare found  higher  employment ;  but  as  long  as  the  practice 
of  riding  to  the  play-house  continued,  the  waiters  that  held  the 
horses  retained  the  appellation  of  Shakespeare's  boys."  Accord- 
ing to  another  tradition,  recorded  by  Malone  (1780),  "his  first 
office  in  the  theatre  was  that  of  prompter's  attendant." 

It  is  assumed  that  soon  after  his  arrival  in  London  Shake- 
speare became  connected  with  one  of  the  two  London  theatres, 
viz.  "  The  Theatre,"  in  Shoreditch,  built  by  James  Burbage,  father 
of  the  great  actor  Richard  Burbage,  in  1576  ;  or  "  The  Curtain," 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1587 

in  Moorfields — the  second  playhouse,  built  about  the  same  time  (the 
name  survives  in  Curtain  Road,  Shoreditch)  :  both  playhouses  were 
built  on  sites  outside  the  civic  jurisdiction,  the  City  Fathers  having 
no  sympathy  with  stage-plays.  In  all  probability  the  former  was  the 
scene  of  Shakespeare's  earliest  activity,  in  whatever  capacity  it  may 
have  been.  Shakespeare  may  have  belonged,  from  the  first,  to  Lord 
Leicester's  Company,  of  which  we  know  he  soon  became  an  im- 
portant member,  and  with  which,  under  various  patrons,  his  dramatic 
career  was  to  be  associated.  It  is  noteworthy  that  in  1587  the 
Earl  of  Leicester's  men  visited  Stratford-on-Avon.  In  this  same 
year,  1587,  when  the  Admiral's  men  re-opened  after  the  plague 
Marlowe's  I'atnber/aine  was  among  the  plays  produced  by  them. 

1588.  In  September  of  this  year  the  Earl  of  Leicester 
died,  and  his  company  of  actors  found  a  new  patron  in  Ferdinando, 
Lord  Strange,  who  became  Earl  of  Derby  on  September  25,  1592. 

1589.  On  August  23,  Greene's  novel  " Menaphon"  was 
entered  on  the  Stationers'  Registers,  and  was  soon  issued,  with  a 
preface  by  the  satirist  Tom  Nash  containing  a  reference  to  "  a  sort  of 
shifting  companions  that  run  through  every  art  and  thrive  by  none  to 
leave  the  trade  of  Noverint  (i.e.  scrivener)  whereto  they  were  born, 
and  busy  themselves  with  the  endeavours  of  art  that  could  scarcely 
latinize  their  neck-verse,  if  they  should  have  need  :  yet  English 
Seneca,  read  by  candle  light,  yields  many  good  sentences.  Blood  hi 
a  Beggar,  and  so  forth  ;  if  you  intreat  him  fair  in  a  frostie  morning, 
he  will  afford  you  whole  Hamlets,  I  should  say  handfulls  of  tragical 
speeches,  &c."  This  is  the  best  evidence  we  have  for  the  existence 
of  a  lost  play  on  "  Hamlet "  at  this  early  date  :  its  author  was 
almost  certainly  Thomas  Kyd  (born  1558,  died  1594),  famous  as 
the  author  of  "  The  Spanish  Tragedy.^''  In  Menaphon  Greene  in- 
dulges in  his  sarcastic  references  to  Marlowe,  which  are  also  found  in 
his  Perimedes  the  Blacksmith  (  1 588).  Peele,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
held  up,  in  Nash's  Preface,  2&  primus  verborum  artifex.      It  is  clear 


1592 


ANNALS  OF  THE 


that  at  this  time  Greene  regarded  Marlowe  and  Kyd  as  dangerous 
rivals ;  Shakespeare  was  not  yet  an  object  of  fear.  Greene  was 
chief  writer  for  the  Queen's  men,  Marlowe  and  Kyd  for  Lord 
Pembroke's,  Peele  was  joining  Greene's  company,  leaving  the 
Admiral's. 

1 59 1.  In  this  year  Florio,  subsequently  the  translator  of 
Montaigne's  Essays,  published  Second  Fruites — a  book  of  Italian- 
English  dialogues.  A  sonnet  entitled  Phaeton  to  his  friend  Florio 
may  possibly  have  been  written  by  Shakespeare ;  but  there  is  no 
direct  evidence. 

In  this  year  the  Queen's  players  made  their  last  appearance  at 
Court ;  Lord  Strange's  men  made  the  first  of  their  many  appear- 
ances at  Court. 

"  The  Troublesome  Raigne  of  King  John,"  the  original  of  King 
John,  was  published  this  year  ;  it  was  re-issued  in  1611  as  written 
by  "W.  Sh.,"  and  in  1622  as  by  "  W.  Shakespeare." 

1592.  On  February  19,  Lord  Strange's  men  opened  the 
Rose  Theatre  on  Bankside,  erected  by  Philip  Henslowe,  theatrical 
speculator.  It  would  appear  that  they  had  generally  acted  at  the 
Cross  Keys,  an  inn-yard  in  Bishopsgate  Street.  They  played  at 
the  Rose  from  February  to  June.  At  this  time  we  find  the  great 
actor  Edward  Alleyn,  Henslowe's  son-in-law,  at  the  head  of  Lord 
Strange's  men,  but  he  was  really  the  Lord  Admiral's  man  :  there 
was  evidently  a  short-lived  combination  of  the  two  companies  : 
but  they  soon  dissolved  partnership. 

On  March  3,  1592,  Henry  VI.  was  acted  at  the  Rose 
Theatre  by  Lord  Strange's  men :  it  was  in  all  probability  i  Henry 
VI.,  and  was  soon  after  referred  to  by  Nash  in  his  Pierce  Penniless 
(licensed  August  8)  : — "How  would  it  have  joyed  brave  Talbot 
(the  terror  of  the  French)  to  think  that  after  he  had  lain  two 
hundred  years  in  his  tomb,  he  should  triumph  again  on  the  stage,  and 
have   his  bones  new  embalmed    with    the    tears  of  ten  thousand 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1592 

spectators  at  least  (at  several  times),  who  in  the  tragedian  that 
represents  his  person  imagine  they  behold  him  fresh  bleeding " 
{cp.  iv.  6,  7). 

With  a  short  break  the  theatres  were  closed  on  account  of  the 
plague  until  after  Christmas  1 593,  The  company  meanwhile 
travelled,  and  we  have  notices  of  their  visits  to  Bristol  and  Shrews- 
bury during  that  year :  similar  notices  of  travel  are  extant  for 
subsequent  years. 

In  this  same  year  i  592,  on  September  4,  died  Robert  Greene  ; 
on  the  20th  of  the  month  his  Groatsivorth  of  IVit  was  published, 
edited  by  Chettle.  In  this  work  there  is  an  address  to  his 
"  quondam  acquaintance  that  spend  their  wits  in  making  plays, 
R.  G.  wisheth  a  better  exercise  and  wisdome  to  prevent  his 
extremities."  Marlowe,  Nash,  and  Peele,  are  probably  the  scholar- 
playwrights  warned  by  Greene  no  longer  to  trust  the  players. 
"  Base-minded  men  all  three  of  you,  if  by  my  misery  ye  be  not 
warned :  for  unto  none  of  you,  like  mc,  sought  those  burrs  to 
cleave — those  puppets,  I  mean,  that  speak  from  our  mouth,  those 
antics  garnished  in  our  colours.  Is  it  not  strange  that  I,  to  whom 
they  have  all  been  beholding  :  is  it  not  like  that  you,  to  whom  they 
have  all  been  beholding,  shall  (were  ye  in  that  case  that  I  am  now) 
be  both  at  once  of  them  forsaken  ?  Yes,  trust  them  not :  for 
there  is  an  upstart  crow,  beautified  with  our  feathers,  that  with  his 
Tiger  s  heart  ivrapt  in  a  player  s  hide  supposes  he  is  as  well  able  to 
bombast  out  a  blank- verse  as  the  best  of  you  :  and  being  an  absolute 
Johannes  fac-totum,  is  in  his  own  conceit  the  only  shake-scene  in  a 
country.  O  that  I  might  entreat  your  rare  wits  to  be  employed  in 
more  profitable  courses :  and  let  these  apes  imitate  your  past 
excellence,  and  never  more  acquaint  them  with  your  admired 
inventions.  .  .  .  Yet,  whilst  you  may,  seek  you  better  masters  ! 
for  it  is  a  pity  men  of  such  rare  wits  should  be  subject  to  such  rude 
grooms." 

The  original  of  the  travestied  line  is  to  be  found  in  3  Henry  FI.., 
"  0  tiger's  heart  'wrapt  in  a  ivoman's  hide  "  [rp.  Preface),  and  there 


1593 


ANNALS  OF  THE 


can  be  no  doubt  that  here  we  have  the  first  direct  evidence 
of  Shakespeare's  growing  pre-eminence  as  an  actor  and  as  a 
playwright. 

In  the  month  of  December,  following  the  publication  of  Greene's 
Groatsworth  of  Wit  we  have  even  more  important  evidence  of 
Shakespeare's  recognised  pre-eminence  as  a  man  of  character.  In 
his  "  Kind  Hartes  Dreame  "  Chettle,  the  publisher  of  the  attack, 
penned  the  following  apology : — *'  I  am  as  sorry  as  if  the  original 
fault  had  been  my  fault,  because  niyself  have  seen  his  [i.e.  Shake- 
peare's)  demeanour  no  less  civil  than  he  excellent  in  the  quality  he 
professes,  besides  divers  of  worship  have  reported  his  uprightness 
of  dealing,  which  argues  his  honesty,  and  his  facetious  grace  in 
writing  that  approves  his  art." 

Shakespeare  probably  referred  to  Greene's  death  soon  after- 
wards : — 

"  The  thrice-three  Muses,  mourning  for  the  death 
Of  Learning,  late  deceased  in  beggary."  ^ 

^593-  ^'^  'h'^  ^'^'^^  ^^^  published  "  Venus  $5*  Adonis,^^ 

dedicated  by  the  poet  to  Henry  Wriothesley,  third  Earl  of  South- 
ampton as  "the  first  heir  of  my  invention"  (cf.  Preface).  It  is 
significant  that  the  printer  of  the  book  was  Richard  Field,  Shake- 
speare's fellow  countryman.  The  title-page  bore  a  quotation  in 
Latin  from  Ovid's  "  Amores^^  : — 

"  Villa  miretur  "vulgus  ;   mihi  Jlavus  Apollo 
Pocula  Castalia  plena  m'mistret  aqua."'^ 

(Seven  editions  from  1 593-1602,  cp.  Preface). 

Under  date  "  i  of  June  1593  "  the  burial  register  of  the  parish 
church  of  St  Nicholas,  Deptford  contains  the  following  entry  : — 
"  Christopher  Marlow,  slain  by  Francis  Archer,"  whom  we  know 
from  another  source  to  have  been  "  a  servingman,  a  rival  of  his  in 

1  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  (^cp.  Preface). 
^  ' '  Let  base  conceited  ivits  admire  vile  things, 
Fair  Phmbus  lead  me  to  the  muses  springs  /  " 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1594 

his  lewd  love."  Shakespeare  subsequently  referred  to  Marlowe  in 
the  famous  lines  : — 

"  Dead  Shepherd  !   now  I  find  thy  saw  of  might, 
'  Who  ever  loved  that  loved  not  at  first  sight.'" ^ 

1594.  At  the  beginning  of  the  year  "I'i/us  Andronlcus" 

described  as  a  "  new  play,"  was  acted  by  the  Earl  of  Sussex's 
men. 

Lord  Derby  died  on  April  16,  and  was  succeeded  as  licenser 
and  patron  by  Henry  Carey,  Lord  Hunsdon,  Lord  Chamberlain 
(he  died  in  i  596  and  was  succeeded  by  his  son,  who  became  Lord 
Chamberlain  in  i^g"]).  Shakespeare's  company  performed  for  a 
short  time  at  the  new  theatre  at  Newington  Butts,  and  subsequently 
between  1598  and  1599  at  "The  Curtain"  and  "The  Theatre." 

Roderigo  Lopez,  the  Queen's  Jewish  physician,  was  hanged  in 
June  (cf.  Preface,  Merchant  of  Venice)  :  Hcnslowe  produced  at 
the  Rose  on  August  25  "  the  Venesyon  Comedy  "  (probably  an 
early  version  of  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice  "). 

In  December  of  this  year  Shakespeare  performed  before  the 
Queen  at  Greenwich  Palace  ;  he  is  named  in  the  manuscript 
accounts  of  the  Treasurer  of  the  chamber: — "William  Kempe, 
William  Shakespeare  and  Richard  Burbage ; "  they  acted  two 
comedies  or  "interludes." 

On  December  28,  when  he  was  thus  engaged  at  Greenwich, 
"  The  Comedy  of  Errors  "  was  played  in  the  hall  of  Gray's  Inn. 
There  was  considerable  confusion  brought  about  by  the  students  of 
the  Inner  Temple :  "  and  after  such  sports,  a  Comedy  of  Errors, 
like  to  Plautus  his  Menechmus,  was  played  by  the  players ;  so  that 
night  was  begun  and  continued  to  the  end  in  nothing  but  confusion 
and  errors,  whereupon  it  was  ever  afterwards  called  the  Night  of 
Errors." 

In  this  year  "  The  Taming  of  a  Shreiv  " — the  original  of  Shake- 
speare's "77?r  Taming  of  the  Shreiv^' — was  printed  for  the  first  time; 
J  f/.  As  You  Like  It,  III.  V.  81. 


1594  ANNALS  OF  THE 

and  "  The  first  part  of  the  Contention  befwixt  the  two  famous  houses 
of  Torke  and  Lancaster''  [cp.  2  Henry  -vL)  was  surreptitiously 
published. 

Shakespeare's  second  volume  of  verse  "  Lucrece  "  was  published 
this  year,  printed  by  Richard  Field,  and  dedicated  to  the  Earl  of 
Southampton.      (Five  editions  1 594-1616;  cp.  Preface.) 

Soon  after  the  publication  of  "  Lucrece^'  "  Willobie  his  Jvisa  " 
appeared,  with  a  laudatory  address  referring  to  Shakespeare  by 
name  :  "  Jnd  Shakespeare  paints  poor  Lucrece'  rape  "  (the  poem, 
re-published  in  1596,  1605,  1609,  is  of  interest  in  connection  with 
the  ''Sonnets"  cp.  Preface). 

A  similar  reference  is  perhaps  found  in  "  Epicedium,  a  funeral 

song,  upon  the  vertuous  life  and  godly  death  of  the  right  worshipful  the 

lady  Helen  Branch  "  : — 

"  You  that  have  writ  of  chaste  Lucretia 

Whose  death  was  witness  of  her  spotless  life." 

Michael  Drayton,  in  the  same  year,  referred  to  the  poem  in  his 
«  Legend  of  Mathilda  the  Chaste  "  : — 

"  Lucrece,  of  whom  proud  Rome  hath  boasted  long, 
Lately  reviv'd  to  live  another  age  ;  "  etc. 

(found  also  in  the  1596  edition,  but  expunged  in  later  copies), 
while  the  pious  poet  Robert  Southwell,  executed  Feb.  20,  i  594-5' 
in  his  *'  St  Peters  Complainty  with  other  poems"  alluded  to  "  Venus 
and  Adonis  "  : — 

"  Still  finest  wits  are  'stilling  Venus'  rose, 
In  paynim  toys  the  sweetest  veins  are  spent, 
To  christian  works  few  have  their  talents  lent." 

In  this  year  Spenser  possibly  referred  to  our  poet  in  "  Co/in 
Clout's  Come  Home  Again"  as  "  Aetion  "  i.e.  Eaglet; — 

"  And  there,  though  last  not  least  is  Aetion  ; 
A  gentler  shepherd  may  no  where  be  found 
Whose  muse,  full  of  high  thought's  invention, 
Doth  like  herself  heroically  sound." 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1595 

1595'  ^°  ^    curious  volume  **  Pollmanteia"  published 

at  Cambridge,  there  is  a  marginal  reference  to  "  y///  praise  -worthy 
Lucretia  j  Siveet  Shakespeare  /  Wanton  yldonisJ" 

A  more  valuable  contemporary  allusion  is  John  Weever's  sonnet 
"ad  Gu/ie/mum  Shakespeare,"  possibly  belonging  to  the  year 
1595-6,  though  first  printed  in  1599  in  ''Epigrams  in  the  oldest 
cut,  and  netvest  fashion.  A  tivice  seven  hours  i^in  so  many 
weeks)  study.  No  longer  [like  the  fashion)  not  unlike  to  con- 
tinue "  : — 

"  Honey-tongued  Shakespeare,  when  I  saw  thine  issue, 
I  swore  Apollo  got  them  and  none  other, 
Their  rosy-tainted  features  clothed  in  tissue, 
Some  heaven-born  goddess  said  to  be  their  mother  : 
Rose-cheek'd  Adonis  with  his  amber  tresses, 
Fair  fire-hot  Venus  charming  him  to  love  her, 
Chaste  Lucretia  virgin  like  her  dresses, 
Proud  lust-stung  Tarquin  seeking  still  to  prove  her : 
Romeo,  Richard:  more  ivhose  names  I  ino-w  not. 
Their  sugred  tongues,  and  power-attractive  beauty, 
Say  they  are  saints,  although  that  saints  they  shew  not. 
For  thousands  vow  to  them  subjective  duty: 
They  burn  in  love:   thy  children,  Shakespeare,  het^  them: 
Go,  woo  thy  muse:  more  nymphish  brood  beget  them." 

Weever,  like  the  author  of  the  previous  work,  was  "  a  Cam- 
bridge man  " — "  one  weaver  follow  ...  els  could  he  never  have 
had  such  a  quick  sight  into  my  virtues." 

Another  reference  belonging  to  1595  is  in  Thomas  Edwards' 
U  Envoy  to  "  Cephalus  and  Procrts  "  : — 

"Adon  deftly  masking  thro' 
Stately  troops  rich  conceited, 
Shew'd  he  well  deserved  too 

Love's  delight  on  him  to  gaze: 
And  had  not  Love  herself  entreated, 

Other  nymphs  had  sent  him  bays." 

1  i.e.  heated. 


1596  ANNALS  OF  THE 

About  this  time  Richard  Carew  wrote  :  "  Will  you  read  VirglP. 
Take  the  Earl  of  Surrey.  Catullus  ?  Shakespeare,  and  Marlow's 
fragment." 

"  The  True  Traged'ie  of  Richard,  Duke  of  Tork,  and  the  Death  of 
good  King  Henry  the  Sixth,  as  it  avas  sundry  times  acted  by  the  Earl 
of  Pembroke  his  servants  "  [cp.  3  Henry  VI.)  issued  from  the 
press  during  the  year. 

On  Dec.  I,  ^*  Edward  III.,"  the  pseudo- Shakespeare  play 
(with  its  '■^Idies  that  fester  smell  far  nvorse  than  iveeds,  cp.  Sonnets, 
xciv)  was  licensed,  and  was  published  the  following  year. 

1506.  August  II.   Hamnet,  the  poet's  only  son,  was 

buried  in  the  parish  church  of  Stratford.     We  may  assume,  but 
there  is  no  evidence,  that  Shakespeare  was  present. 

In  this  year,  John  Shakespeare — probably  in  accordance  with 
the  wishes  of  his  son — made  application  to  the  College  of  Heralds 
for  a  coat-of-arms,  stating  that  he  had  already,  in  1568,  applied  to 
the  College,  and  obtained  a  pattern.  Two  copies  of  the  draft  of  the 
grant  proposed  to  be  conferred  on  John  Shakespeare,  in  reply  to 
his  application,  in  the  year  1 596,  are  preserved  at  the  College  of 
Arms.  In  the  margin  are  the  arms  and  crest,  with  the  motto 
"  Non  sanz  droict."  After  a  preamble  it  is  stated  that  being  by 
"  credible  report  informed  that  John  Shakespeare,  of  Stratford- 
upon-Avon  in  the  county  of  Warwick,  whose  parents  and  late 
antecessors  ^  were  for  their  valiant  and  faithful  service  advanced 
and  rewarded  by  the  most  prudent  prince  King  Henry  the  Seventh 
of  famous  memorie,  sithence  which  time  they  have  continued  at 
those  parts  in  good  reputation  and  credit ;  and  that  the  said  John 
having  married  Mary,  daughter  and  one  of  the  heirs  of  Robert 
Arden  of  Wilmcote,  in  the  said  county,  gent.^  In  consideration 
whereof,  and  for  the  encouragement  of  his  posterity  to  whom  these 
achievements  might  descend  by  the  ancient  custom  and  laws  of 
arms,  I   have   therefore  assigned,  granted,    and  by  these   presents 

1  "  grandfather,"  in  second  draft.  ^  a  esquire  "  in  second  draft. 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1597 

confirmed  this  shield  or  coat  of  arms,  viz.,  gold,  on  a  bend  sable, 
a  spear  of  the  first,  the  point  steeled,  proper,  and  for  his  crest  or 
cognisance  a  falcon,  his  wings  displayed  argent,  standing  on  a 
wreath  of  his  colours,  supporting  a  spear  gold  steeled  as  aforesaid, 
set  upon  a  helmet  with  mantles  and  tassles  as  hath  been  accustomed 
and  more  plainly  appeareth  depicted  on  this  margent." 

The  draft  was  not  executed  this  year. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  James  Burbage  purchased  from  Sir 
William  More  a  large  portion  of  a  house  in  the  Blackfriars, 
formerly  belonging  to  Sir  Thomas  Cawarden,  Master  of  the 
Revels,  and  afterwards  converted  it  into  a  theatre  :  it  was  sub- 
sequently leased  by  his  sons,  Richard  and  Cuthbert,  to  Henry 
Evans  for  the  performances  of  the  *'  Children  of  the  Chapel " 
(c/>.  1610). 

At  this  time  Shakespeare  was  probably  lodging  near  "  The 
Bear-Garden  in  Southwark,"  and  possibly  soon  after  in  the  parish 
of  St.  Helen's,  Bishopsgate.  The  name  is  found  in  a  list  of 
residents  there  in  1 59S,  but  there  is  no  definite  evidence  of 
identity. 

1597*  Henry  Brooke  succeeded  to  the  title  as  eighth 

Lord  Cobham ;  the  family  claimed  descent  from  Sir  John  Old- 
castle,  the  Lollard  chief.  Probably  owing  to  Lord  Cobham's 
objections,  the  character  "  Oldcastle  "  was  at  this  time  changed  to 
"  Falstaff." 

On  May  4,  Shakespeare  purchased  (for  sixty  pounds)  New  Place, 
a  mansion  with  about  an  acre  of  land  in  the  centre  ot  Stratford-on- 
Avon  (the  final  legal  transfer  being  made  five  years  later)  ;  many 
years  passed  before  he  himself  settled  there ;  meanwhile  he  let  the 
house  or  part  of  it,  and  generally  improved  the  property. 

In  this  year  another  effort  was  made  to  get  back  the  mortgaged 
estate  of  Ashbies,  but  without  success. 

The  first  Quarto  imperfect  copy  of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet  "  was 
surreptitiously  published  {^cp.  Prejuce). 


1598  ANNALS  OF  THE 

*^  Richard  11.^'  and  ^^  Richard  III."  were  published  anony- 
mously ;  the  Deposition  Scene  was  omitted  from  the  previous  play 
{cp.  Preface)^  and  so,  too,  in  the  next  edition  published  in  the 
following  year.  The  3rd  and  4th  editions,  1608  and  161 5,  supply 
the  omissions.  "Richard  III."  was  re-published  in  1598,  1602, 
1605,  1612. 

1598.  This     year     was     published     Francis     Meres' 

'*  Palladis  Tamta  :  IVit's  Treasury,  being  the  second  part  of 
Wit's  Commontuea/th,"  containing  the  most  important  reference 
to  Shakespeare's  achievements  up  to  that  date : — 

"  As  the  soul  of  Euphorlus  was  thought  to  live  in  Pythagoras, 
so  the  sweet  witty  soul  of  Ovid  lives  in  mellifluous  and  honey- 
tongued  Shakespeare.,  witness  his  Venus  and  Adonis,  his  Lucrece, 
his  sugred  sonnets  among  his  private  friends,  &c. 

As  Plautus  and  Seneca  are  accounted  the  best  for  Comedy  and 
Tragedy  among  the  Latins,  so  Shakespeare  among  the  English  is 
the  most  excellent  in  both  kinds  for  the  stage  ;  for  Comedy,  witness 
his  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  his  Errors,  his  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  his 
Love's  Labour's  Won,  his  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  and  his 
Merchant  of  Venice ;  for  Tragedy,  his  Richard  the  II.,  Richard  the 
III.,  Henry  the  IV.,  King  John,  Titus  Andronlcus,  and  his  Romeo 
and  Juliet. 

As  Eplus  Stolo  said,  that  the  Muses  would  speak  with  Plautus' 
tongue,  if  they  would  speak  Latin  ;  so  I  say  that  the  Muses  would 
speak  with  Shakespeare's  fine-filed  phrase,  if  they  would  speak 
English. 

As  Ovid  saith  of  his  work  : — 

Jamque  opus  exegi  quod  nee  Jovis  ira,  nee  ignis, 
Nee  foteritferrum,  nee  edax  abator  e  vet  us  t  as. 

And  as  Horace  saith  of  his : — Exegl  monumentum  are  perennlus ; 
Regalique,  situ  pyramldum  altlus  ;  Quod  non  Imber  edax,  non  aqullo 
Impotens  posslt  dlruere  ;   aut  Innumerabiles  annorum  series,  &c.,  so 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1598 

say  I  severally  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney's,  Spenser's,  Daniel's 
Drayton's,  Shakespeare's  and  Warner's  works." 

[^It  is  significant  that  Meres  omits  Henry  VI.  from  his  list  of 
plays,  but  includes  Titus  Andron'icui .~\ 

The  following  is  the  approximate  chronological  order  of  plays 
mentioned  by  Meres  (r/>.  Prefaces  to  individual  plays)  : — Love's 
Labour  s  Lost  {c.  1591 ),  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  (r.  1591  ), 
Comedy  of  Errors  (1592),  Romeo  and  Juliet  (1592-6,  subse- 
quently revised),  Richard  IL  (1593),  Richard  IlL  (1593), 
Titus  Andronicus  (1594),^  Merchant  of  Venice  (1594,  subse- 
quently revised).  King  John  (1594),  Midsummer  Night's  Dream 
[c.  1 593-5?  perhaps  subsequently  revised),  the  earlier  draft  of 
AWs  Well  that  ends  Well  {i.e.  Love's  Labour  Won)  {before  1595), 
Henry  IV.  (1597). 

In  this  same  year  we  have  "  A  Remembrance  of  some  English 
Poets"  probably  by  Richard  Barnfield.  Spenser  is  praised  for 
his  Fairy  Queen,  Daniel  for  his  Rosamond  and  that  "  rare  work  " 
The  White  Rose  and  the  Red,  Drayton  for  his  well-written 
"  Tragedies  and  siveet  epistles  "  : — 

"And  Shakespeare  thou,  whose  honey-flowing  vein 
(Pleasing  the  world)  thy  praises  doth  obtain  : 
Whose  Venus  and  whose  Lucrece,  sweet  and  chaste, 
Thy  name  in  Fame's  immortal  Book  hath  placed. 
Live  ever  you,  at  least  in  Fame  live  ever, 
Well  may  the  body  die,  but  Fame  dies  never." 

According  to  a  tradition  preserved  by  Rowe  "  Queen  Elizabeth 
was  so  well  pleased  with  the  admirable  character  of  FalstafF  in  the 
two  parts  of  Henry  IV.  that  she  commanded  Shakespeare  to  con- 
tinue it  for  one  play  more,  and  to  show  him  in  love";  and  another 
tradition  {cp.  Dennis's  dedication  to  The  Comical  Gallant,  1702)  states 

^  The  close  connexion  between  the  date  of  Titus  and  Peele's  Honour 
cfthe  Garter,  to  which  Mr  Charles  Crawford  has  recently  called  attention, 
inclines  me  to  place  the  play  after  June  1593.     I   do   not  accept  Mr 

Crawford's  general   conclusions   (cp.  JaJirbuch  der  d.   Shak.    Geieli.   xxxvi.j. 


1598 


ANNALS  OF  THE 


that  it  was  finished  in  fourteen  days.      {cp.  Epilogue,  2  Henry  IF.) 

The  play  of  The  Merry  Wives  may  therefore 
safely  be  dated  1597.  Justice  Shallow  with 
his  "  dozen  white  luces  "  was  intended  to 
suggest  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  of  Charlecote. 

The  only  other  of  Shakespeare's  plays  al- 
ready written  by  the  date  of  Meres'  Palladis 
Tamia  was  probably  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew, 
remarkable  for  the  many  allusions  to  Stratford 
and  the  neighbourhood  in  the  Inductions  ^ 
(^cp.  Preface). 

The  following  allusion  to  Shakespeare 
appeared  in  John  Marston's  "  Scourge  of 
Fillainie,"  published  this  year : — 


Bust  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy. 
From  the  monument 
in  Charlecote  Church. 


"  Luscus,  what's  played  to-day?     Faith,  now  I  know, 
I  set  thy  lips  abroad,  from  whence  doth  flow 
Nought  but  pure  Juliet  and  Romeo. 
Say,  who  acts  best?     Drusus  or  Roscio  ? 
Now  I  have  him,  that  ne'er  of  ought  did  speak 
But  when  of  plays  or  players  he  did  treat. 
'Hath  made  a  common-place  book  out  of  plays, 
And  speaks  in  print:  at  least  whate'er  he  says, 
Is  warranted  by  Curtain'^  plaudeties. 
If  e'er  you  heard  him  courting  Lesbia's  eyes  ; 
Say,  courteous  sir,  speaks  he  not  movingly, 
From  out  some  new  pathetic  tragedy  ? 
He  writes,  he  rails,  he  jests,  he  courts  what  not, 
And  all  from  out  his  huge  long-scraped  stock 
Of  well-penned  plays." 

"^  e.g.  "Old  Sly  of  Burton  Heath"  (  =Barton-on-the-Heath;  ;  Marian 
Hacket  of  Wincot ;  "  Old  John  Naps  of  Greece  "  (  =  Greet,  in  Gloucester- 
shire) ;  similarly  in  2  Henry  IV.  "William  Visor  of  Woncot"  (  =  Wood- 
mancote)  and  "Clement  Perks  of  the  Hill"  (  =  Stinchcombe  Hill)  are 
specific  references  to  persons  and  places  in  Gloucestershire  ;  so,  too,  "  Will 
Squele,  a  Cotswold  man." 

■■^  Perhaps  a  quibbling  allusion  to  the  "  Curtain  "  theatre. 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 


1598 


Soon  after  the  publication  of  Marston's  ^*  Scourge  of  Fi/Iainie," 
the  author  of  "  I'/je  Return 
from  Parnassus  "  (probably 
John  Day)  ^  was  at  work,  on 
the  second  of  his  three  plays, 
which  was  probably  acted 
at  St  John's  College,  Cam- 
bridge, at  Christmas  1599. 
The      following      extracts 

suggest      the      character      of      Bas-relief  in  plaster,  formerly  in  Shakespeare's 

T  iicriic  • birth-place.     It  represents  David  and  Goliath, 

i-iUSCUS  .  and  formerly  bore  the  date  1606. 

"  Gu/lio.  Pardon,  fair  lady,  though  sick-thoughted  Gullio  makes 

amain  unto  thee,  and  like  a  bold-faced  suitor  'gins  to  woo  thee.- 

Ingcnioso.  (We  shall  have  nothing  but  pure  Shakespeare  and  shreds  of 
poetry  that  he  hath  gathered  at  the  theatres.) 

Gullio.  Pardon  me,  moi  mistressa,  as  I  am  a  gentleman,  the  moon, 
in  comparison  of  thy  bright  hue 's  a  mere  slut,  Anthonio's 
Cleopatra  a  black-brow'd  milkmaid,  Helen  a  dowdy. 

Ingenioso.  (Mark,  Romeo  and  Juliet  I  ^    O  monstrous  theft  1 

I  think  he  will  run  through  a  whole  book  of  Samuel  Daniels!)* 

Gullio.  Thrice  fairer  than  myself — thus  I  began — "^ 

•  *  *  «  « 

«'  O  sweet  Mr  Shakespeare  !  I'll  have  his  picture  in  my  study 

at  the  court." 

***** 

"Let  the  duncified  age  esteem  of  Spenser  and  Chaucer,  I'll 
■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." 

^ -v.  '■^  Return  from  Parnassus^^  edited   by   the    present  writer  {^^  Temple 
Dramatists  "),  now  at  press. 

2  cp  "  Sick-thoughted  Venus  makes  amain  unto  him, 

And  like  a  bold-faced  suitor  'gins  to  woo  him." 

Venus  and  Adonis,  st.  i. 
'  cp.  Rcmeo  anj  Juliti,  II.  /■v. 

*  Evidently  Daniel's  debt  to  Shakespeare  was  recognised  {^cp.  Preface. 
Richard  II.').  ^  cp.   Venus  and  Adonis,  st.  Z 


1598 


ANNALS  OF  THE 


The  revised  Love's  Labour's  Lost  was  published  this  year,  with 
Shakespeare's  name  for  the  first  time  on  the  title-page  of  a  play  : — 


PLEASANT 

Conceited  Comedic 

CALLED, 

Loues  labors  loft. 

Ask  was  prefented  before  lierHighnes 
this  kft  Chriftma5. 

Kewly  corrcfl^ed  and  augmented 
Bj  W.  Shahjpere, 


Imprinted  at  London  by  ^.W^ 
{oT  Cuthrt  Bffrly, 

r 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1598 

Robert  Toftc's  "  The  Month's  Mind  of  a  Melancholy  Lover  " 
appeared  this  year,  with  important  allusions  to  this  play  : — 

"  Love's  Labour  Lost,  1  once  did  see  a  play 
Y-cleped  so,  so  called  to  my  pain,"  etc. 

[cp.  Preface  to  Love's  Labour's  Lost). 

The  First  Part  of  Henry  IF.  was  issued  this  year  (and  a  revised 
edition,  "  newly  corrected,"  the  following  year,  and  again  in  1604, 
1608,  1615). 

Shakespeare  acted  in  Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  in  His  Humour, 
produced  in  September  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Company. 
According  to  a  tradition  recorded  by  Rowe,  Shakespeare  was 
answerable  for  the  acceptance  of  the  piece.  His  name  is  placed 
first  in  the  list  of  original  performers  of  the  play. 

Some  interesting  correspondence  directly  mentioning  Shakespeare 
belongs  to  this  year  : — (i)  from  Abraham  Sturley,  formerly  bailiff, 
to  his  brother  or  brother-in-law  in  London,  containing  these  words 
— "  This  is  one  special  remembrance  from  our  father's  motion. 
It  seemeth  by  him  that  our  countryman,  Mr  Shakespeare,  is  willing 
to  disburse  some  money  upon  some  odd  yardland  or  other  at 
Shottery,  or  near  about  us  :  he  thinketh  it  a  very  fit  pattern  to 
move  him  to  deal  in  the  matter  of  our  tithes.  By  the  instruction  you 
can  give  him  thereof,  and  by  the  friends  he  can  make  therefore, 
we  think  it  a  fair  mark  for  him  to  shoot  at,  and  would  do  us  much 
good";  (ii)  from  the  same  writer  to  Richard  Quiney  (father  of 
Thomas  Quiney,  afterwards  Shakespeare's  son-in-law),  at  the  time 
(November  4)  staying  in  London,  negotiating  local  affairs,  pro- 
bably seeking  to  obtain  relief  for  Stratford  from  some  tax.  Shirley 
writes  that  Quiney's  letter  of  October  25  had  stated  "that  our 
countryman  Mr  Wm.  Shak.  would  procure  us  money,"  "  which  I 
like,"  he  continues,  "  as  I  shall  hear  when,  and  where,  and  how  ; 
and  I  pray  let  not  go  that  occasion  if  it  may  sort  to  any  indifferent 
conditions"  ;  (iii)  on  the  very  day  when  Quiney  had  written  the 
letter   which   called    forth   this    reply  from  Sturley,  he   had   also 


1598 


ANNALS  OF  THE 


addressed  a  communication  "  to  my  loving  good  friend  and 
countryman  Mr  Wm.  Shakespeare " — the  only  letter  addressed 
to  Shakespeare  which  is  known  to  exist : — 


1 


^^'Ur 


^  •"■^'j 


%^^ 


^"^i>'f 


1      ?   -^-^ 


r^iiH 


?^ 


^ 


A  4^ 


-r? 


a. 

CO 


'3 
C 

•V 
u 

a 


(mv!^ri^?.|%flHi\ 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1599 

"  Loveinge  countryman,  I  am  bolde  of  yow  as  of  a  ffrende,  craveingc 
yowr  helpe  with  xxx^.  Uppon  Mr  Bushells  and  my  securytee,  or  Mr 
Myttons  with  me.  Mr  Rosswell  is  nott  come  to  London  as  yeate,  and  I 
have  especiall  cawse.  Yow  shall  tTrende  me  muche  in  helpeing  me  out  of 
all  debettes  I  owe  in  London,  I  thancke  God,  and  much  quiet  my  mynde, 
which  wolde  not  be  indebted.  I  am  nowe  towardes  the  Cowrte,  in  hope 
of  answer  for  the  dispatche  of  my  buysenes.  Yow  shall  nether  loase 
creddytt  nor  monney  by  me,  the  Lorde  wyllinge  ;  and  nowe  butt  per- 
swade  yowrselfe  soe,  as  I  hope,  and  yow  shall  nott  need  to  feare,  butt, 
with  all  heartie  thanckfullenes,  I  wyll  holde  my  tyme,  and  content  yowr 
ffrende,  and  yf  we  bargaine  farther,  yow  shal  be  the  paie-master  yowr- 
selfe. My  tyme  biddes  me  hestcne  to  an  ende,  and  soe  J  committ  thys 
[to]  yowr  care  and  hope  of  yowr  helpe.  I  feare  I  shall  nott  be  backe 
thys  night  ffrom  the  Cowrte.  Haste.  The  Lorde  be  with  yow  and  with 
vs  all,  Amenl     Ffrom  the  Bell  in  Carter  Lane,  the  25  October  1598. 

"  Yowrs  in  all  kyndeness, 

"RiC.   QUTNEY."! 

1599,  In  the  early  part  of  this  year  Shakespeare  was 

at  work  on  Henry  V.  In  the  Prologue  of  Act  V.  (lines  30-35) 
he  alluded  directly  to  Essex,  "  the  general  of  our  gracious  empress," 
who  left  London  on  March  27  of  this  year  for  Ireland  to  suppress 
Tyrone's  rebellion  : — 

•'  Were  now  the  general  of  our  gracious  empress. 
As  in  good  time  he  may,  from  Ireland  coming, 
Bringing  rebellion  broached  on  his  sword, 
How  many  would  the  peaceful  city  quit 
To  welcome  him  !  " 

Essex  returned  on  September  28,  and  was  put  on  his  trial  for 
neglect  of  duty,  and  imprisoned.  At  the  time  when  Shakespeare 
wrote  the  Prologue  in  question  it  was  not  yet  foreseen  that  the 

'  The  new  Post  Office  Savings  Bank  has  been  built  on  the  site  of  the 
Bell  Inn  in  Carter  Lane.  A  tablet  has  been  placed  on  the  building  com- 
memorating Quiney's  stay  there  when  he  wrote  this  letter — "  the  only 
letter  extant  addressed  to  Shakespeare,  and  the  original  is  preserved  in  the 
Museum  at  his  birthplace,  Stratford-upon-Avon.  This  tablet  was  placed 
upon  the  present  building  by  leave  of  the  Postmaster-General,  1899." 


1599  ANNALS  OF  THE 

expedition  would  fail.      The  Earl  of  Southampton,  Shakespeare's 
friend,  accompanied  Essex. 

Richard  Burbage  and  his  brother  Cuthbert  built  up,  from  the  ruins 
of  the  old  "  Theatre,"  the  «  Globe  Theatre  "  on  the  Bankside,  to 
which  Shakespeare  probably  referred  in  the  opening  chorus  oi  Henry 
V.  [this  'wooden  0).  Between  1595  and  1599  we  have  notices  of 
Shakespeare's  Company  acting  at  "the  Curtain  "  and  "the  Theatre." 
Shares  in  the  receipts  of  the  Globe  were  leased  out,  for  twenty- 
one  years,  to  "  those  deserving  men  Shakespeare,  Hemings,  Condell, 
Philips,  and  others." 

Another  application  was  made  this  year  to  the  College  of  Heralds 
— this  time  for  a  "  recognition  "  of  the  arms  formerly  assigned,  and 
for  permission  to  impale  and  quarter  the  coat  of  the  Ardens  of 
Wilmcote.  The  object  of  the  petition  was  evidently  to  Hnk  the 
Ardens  of  Wilmcote  with  the  great  Arden  family  of  Warwick- 
shire, This  was  refused,  and  the  arms  of  another  Arden  family — of 
Cheshire — were  suggested.  Shakespeare  and  his  family  ultimately 
assumed  the  Shakespeare  arms  without  adding  the  Arden  coat. 

The  second  quarto — the  true  version —  of  ^^  Romeo  and  Juliet,' 
"newly  corrected,  augmented  and  amended"  was  issued  this  year, 
(re-issued  in  two  editions  in  1609). 

William  Jaggard  published  the  piratical  "  Passionate  Pilgrim  " 
"by  W.  Shakespeare"  {cp.  Preface).  "I  know"  wrote  Hey- 
wood  in  his  "  Apology  for  Actors  "  (161 2)  "he  was  much  offended 
with  M.  Jaggard  that  (altogether  unknown  to  him)  presumed  to 
make  so  bold  with  his  name."  (In  this  year,  16 12,  a  'third 
edition '  appeared,  with  Shakespeare's  name  omitted  from  the  title- 
page  of  some  copies). 

1599.  A  play  on  the  subject  of  "Troilus  and  Cressida" 

was  taken  in  hand  by  Dekker  and  Chettle  for  the  Earl  of  Notting- 
ham's company. 

In  November  of  this  year  English  actors  visited  Scotland,  and 
were  received  by  the  King.     Their  chiefs  were  Laurence  Fletcher 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1600 

and  Martin  (the  former  belonged  to  Shakespeare's  company  in 
1603).  The  visit  was  repeated  in  1601.  There  is  no  evidence 
that  Shakespeare  was  one  of  these  travellers  to  Scotland. 

1600.  In  March  of  this  year  Shakespeare  recovered  in 

London  the  sum  of  ;j^7  from  one  John  Clayton. 

On  August  4,  a  memorandum  was  made  in  the  Stationers* 
Register  to  the  effect  that  "  yls  You  Like  It,  Henry  V.,  Every 
Man  in  His  Humour,  and  Much  Ado  About  Nothing  "  were  "  to 
be  stayed."  On  the  14th,  Every  Man  in  His  Humour  was  duly 
licensed  ;  and  on  the  23rd,  Much  Ado  About  Nothing  and  2  Henry 
IV.,  "  with  the  humours  of  Sir  John  Falstaff,  'written  by  Master 
Shakespeare."  Henry  V.  was  printed,  imperfectly,  without 
license  by  Thomas  Creede.  As  Tou  Like  It  was  not  issued  from 
the  press  during  the  poet's  lifetime  ;  it  was  probably  written  during 
the  previous  year  ;  to  the  same  year  Much  Ado  may  safely  be 
assigned.  In  the  quarto  edition,  William  Kemp's  name  is  pre- 
fixed to  some  of  Dogberry's  speeches,  and  Cowley  to  some  of 
Verge's  [cp.  IV.  ii.).  In  this  year  or  1599  "the  new  map 
of  the  world  with  the  Augmentation  of  the  Indies "  was  first 
issued  with  Hakluyt's  Voyages ;  Shakespeare  was  evidently  at 
work  on  Twelfth  Night  about  this  time,  and  referred  to  the  map 
(III.  ii.  83).  According  to  the  entry  in  the  Diary  of  a  barrister, 
Manningham,  this  piece  was  produced  at  Middle  Temple  Hall, 
Feb.  2,  1 60 1 -2  [cp.  Preface). 

The  same  Diary  about  this  time  recorded  the  following  con- 
temporary story  : — "  Upon  a  time  when  Burbage  played  Richard 
III.,  there  was  a  citizen  gone  so  far  in  liking  with  him,  that  before 
she  went  from  the  play  she  appointed  him  to  come  that  night  unto 
her  by  the  name  of  Richard  III.  Shakespeare,  overhearing  their 
conclusion,  went  before,  was  entertained,  and  at  his  game  ere 
Burbage  came.  The  message  being  brought  that  Richard  III.  was 
at  the  door,  Shakespeare  caused  return  to  be  made  that  William  the 
Conqueror  was  before  Richard  III." 


i6oi  ANNALS  OF  THE 

"T/jtf  Merchant  of  Venice,''  and  "  Midsummer  Night's  Dream" 
were  published  for  the  first  time  this  year,  two  editions  in  each 
case,  the  former  being  printed  from  two  independent  copies.  To 
this  year  belongs,  too,  the  only  quarto  edition  of  "77/z/j-." 

"  The  Second  part  of  Henry  IF."  was  printed  this  year,  with  the 
reference  in  the  Epilogue  to  the  change  of  character  from  "  Old- 
castle"  to  "FalstafF" — *■'■  Oldcastle  died  a  martyr,  and  this  is  not 
the  man"  About  the  same  time  a  poor  play  on  the  subject  of 
"  Sir  John  Oldcastle  "  was  published  in  two  editions,  one  having 
Shakespeare's  name  on  the  title-page. 

John  Weever,  in  "  The  Mirror  of  Martyrs,  or  the  life  and  death 
of  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  Knight,  Lord  Cobham"  referred  to  ^^  Julius 
Casar,"  evidently  Shakespeare's  play  : — 

"The  many-headed  multitude  wrere  drawn 
By  Brutus'  speech,  that  Cxsar  was  ambitious, 
When  eloquent  Mark  Antony  had  shown 
His  virtues,  who  but  Brutus  then  was  vicious  ? 
Man's  memory,  with  new,  forgets  the  old. 
One  tale  is  good,  until  another's  told." 

160I.  On  February  5  a  play  on  "  Richard  II."  (pro- 

bably Shakespeare's)  was  acted  at  the  Globe  Theatre  {^cj>.  Preface 
to  Richard  II. ) . 

February  8  was  the  day  fixed  by  Essex  for  stirring  up  a  rebellion 
in  London. 

On  February  17  Sir  Gilly  Meyricke  was  examined  in  con- 
nexion with  the  Essex  Rebellion  : — "  He  sayeth  that  upon  Satur- 
day last  was  sennight  he  dined  at  Gunter's  in  the  company  of  the 
Lord  Monteagle,  Sir  Christopher  Blunt,  Sir  Charles  Percy,  Ellis 
Jones,  and  Edward  Bushell,  and  who  else  he  remembereth  not  and 
after  dinner  that  day  and  at  the  motion  of  Sir  Charles  Percy  and  the 
rest  they  all  went  together  to  the  Globe  over  the  water  where  the 
Lord  Chamberlain's  men  use  to  play,  and  were  there  somewhat 
before  the  play  began,  Sir  Charles  telling  them  that  the  play  would 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  i6oi 

be  of  Harry  the  I  Vth.  Whether  Sir  John  Daviss  were  there  or 
not  this  examinatc  cannot  tell,  but  he  said  he  would  be  there  if  he 
could.  He  cannot  tell  who  procured  that  play  to  be  played  at  that 
time  except  it  were  Sir  Charles  Percy,  but  as  he  thinketh  it  was 
Sir  Charles  Percy.  Then  he  was  at  the  same  play  and  came  in 
somewhat  after  it  was  begun,  and  the  play  was  of  King  Harry  the 
IVth,  and  of  the  killing  of  King  Richard  the  second  played  by 
the  L.  Chamberlain's  players." 

Next  day,  February  i8th,  Augustine  Phillipps,  servant  unto  the 
Lord  Chamberlain  and  one  of  his  players,  was  examined  : — "  He 
sayeth  that  on  Friday  last  was  sennight,  on  Thursday  Sir  Charles 
Percy,  Sir  Joselyn  Percy  and  the  Lord  Monteagle  with  some 
three  more  spake  to  some  of  the  players  in  the  presence  of  this 
examinate  to  have  the  play  of  the  Deposing  and  Killing  of  King 
Richard  the  second  to  be  played  the  Saturday  next  promising  to 
get  them  XL  shillings  more  than  their  ordinary  to  play  it.  Where 
this  examinate  and  his  fellows  were  determined  to  have  played 
some  other  play,  holding  that  play  of  King  Richard  to  be  so  old 
and  so  long  out  of  use  as  that  they  should  have  small  or  no  com- 
pany at  it.  But  at  their  request  this  examinate  and  his  fellows 
were  content  to  play  it  the  Saturday  and  had  their  XI.  shillings 
more  than  their  ordinary  for  it  and  so  played  it  accordingly." 

On  February  19th,  Essex,  with  Southampton,  were  brought  to 
trial  on  a  capital  charge  of  treason.  Both  were  convicted  and 
condemned  to  death.  Essex  was  executed  on  the  25th ; 
Southampton's  sentence  was  commuted  to  imprisonment  for  life 
(he  was  set  free  in  1603  by  King  James  on  his  accession,  cp. 
Preface  to  Sonnets). 

In  April  there  died  one  Thomas  Whittington  of  Shottery, 
who  was  evidently  identical  with  "  my  shepherd,"  mentioned  by 
Richard  Hathaway  in  158 1.  In  a  will  drawn  up  in  May, 
Whittington  bequeathed  "  unto  the  poor  people  of  Stratford  XLs. 
that  is  in  the  hand  of  Anne  Shaxspere,  wife  unto  Mr  Wyllyam 
Shaxspere,  and  is  due  debt  unto  me,  being  paid  to  mine  executor 


i6oi  ANNALS  OF  THE 

by  the  said  Wyllyam  Shaxspere  or  his  assignees  according  to  the 
true  meaning  of  this  my  will." 

John  Shakespeare,  the  poet's  father,  died,  and  was  buried  on 
September  8.    The  Henley  Street  property  passed  to  his  eldest  son. 

Robert  Chester's  Lo'ue's  Martyr,  containing  the  Turtle  ana 
Phctmx  [cp.  Preface)  was  first  published  in  this  year. 

In  "  The  Return  from  Parnassus  " — the  third  play  of  the 
Parnassus  trilogy — acted  by  the  students  of  St  John's  College, 
Cambridge,  probably  at  their  Christmas  festivities  this  or  next 
year,  Burbage  and  Kemp  were  introduced,  the  former  referring  to 
his  role  of  Richard  III. : — 

"  Kempe.  Few  of  the  university  pen  plays  well,  they  smell  too 
much  of  that  writer  Ovid,  and  that  writer  Metamorphosis,  and  talk 
too  much  of  Proserpina  and  Juppiter.  Why  here's  our  fellow 
Shakespeare  puts  them  all  down,  aye,  and  Ben  Jonson  too.  O 
that  Ben  Jonson  is  a  pestilent  fellow,  he  brought  up  Horace  giving 
the  poets  a  pill,  but  our  fellow  Shakespeare  hath  given  him  a  purge 
that  made  him  bewray  his  credit. 

Burbage.  He's  a  shrewd  fellow,  indeed :  I  wonder  these 
scholars  stay  so  long,  they  appointed  to  be  here  presently  that  we 
might  try  them  :  oh,  here  they  come. 

****** 

I  like  your  face,  and  the  proportion  of  your  body  for  King 
Richard  III,  I  pray,  Mr  Philomusus,  let  me  see  you  act  a  little 
of  it. 

Philomusus.     *  Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent,'  &c." 
In  the  same  play  a  character  Judicio  passed  this  judgment  on 
"  William  Shakespeare  "  : 

"  Who  loves  not  Aden's  love,  or  Lucrece  rape  ? 
His  sweeter  verse  contains  heart-throbbing  line, 
Could  but  a  graver  subject  him  content, 
Without  love's  foolish,  lazy  languishment."  ^ 

1  Other  editions,  "Who  loves  Adonis'  love,  or  Lucrece  rape,"  "heart- 
robbing  life,"  and  omit  "  lazy." 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1603 

The  allusion  in  The  Return  from  Parnassus  to  Ben  Jonson's 
"  purge  "  cannot  be  satisfactorily  explained  ;  it  can  only  be  under- 
stood in  its  connexion  with  the  Stage-Quarrel  between  Ben  Jonson 
and  the  so-called  Poetasters  (^cp.  Preface  to  Iroi/us  and  Cressida). 
About  this  time,  too,  the  boy-actors  became  exceedingly  popular 
(cp.  Hamlet  ii.  2).  They  performed  Cynthia's  Revels,  1600,  and 
The  Poetaster,  160 1. 

1602.  On  May  i  Shakespeare  purchased  from  William 
and  John  Combe  one  hundred  and  seven  acres  of  arable  land,  which 
he  added  to  New  Place,  also,  on  September  28,  a  cottage  and  gar- 
den in  Chapel  Lane  held  from  the  manor  of  Rowington.  Shake- 
speare was  not  in  Stratford  at  the  former  date  :  the  conveyance  was 
made  to  his  brother  Gilbert. 

An  imperfect  version  of  The  Merry  Wives  was  published 
this  year  by  Thomas  Creede. 

Under  the  date  July  26,  1602,  was  entered  in  the  Stationers' 
Registers,  "  The  Revenge  of  Hamlet  Prince  of  Denmarhe,  as  yt  ivas 
latelie  acted  by  the  Lord  Chamberleyne  his  servauntes." 

1603.  On  Feb.  2  Shakespeare's  company  performed 
before  the  Queen  at  Richmond. 

On  February  7  a  license  obtained  by  James  Roberts  for  "  the 
booke  of  Troilus  and  Cressida  as  yt  is  acted  by  my  Lord  Chamber- 
lens  men  "  (probably  Shakespeare's  play,  perhaps  before  revision  : 
but  the  book  was  not  published  this  year). 

March   26th :  Death  of  Queen    Elizabeth.      Henry  Chettle  in 
England's  Mourning  Garment  (published   after  the  burial,  28th  of 
April)  taxed  the  poets  for  not  penning  elegies  : — 
"  Nor  doth  the  silver-tongued  Mdicert 
Drop  from  his  honied  muse  one  sable  tear, 
To  mourn  her  death  that  graced  his  desert, 
And  to  his  lays  opened  her  royal  ear. 
Shepherd,  remember  our  Elizabeth, 
And  sing  her  rape,  done  by  that  Tarquin,  death." 


I  603  ANNALS  OF  THE 

On  May  7  King  James  arrived  in  London;  on  May  19th  a 
license  was  granted  to  Shakespeare,  Burbage  and  other  members  of 
the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Company  to  perform  stage  plays  "within 
their  now  usual  house  called  the  Globe  "  and  anywhere  else  in  the 
kingdom.     They  were  henceforth  to  be  "The  King's  Servants." 

London  was  visited  by  the  plague  this  year,  the  theatres  were 
closed,  and  "  the  King's  Players  "  went  on  tour,  being  forbidden 
"to  present  any  plays  publicly  in  or  near  London  by  reason  of 
great  peril  that  might  grow  through  the  extraordinary  concourse 
and  assembly  of  people  to  a  new  increase  of  the  plague." 

On  December  2,  the  court  being  at  that  time  at  Wilton,  the 
seat  of  William  Herbert,  third  Earl  of  Pembroke,  the  company 
by  royal  command,  performed  there,  and  received  ;^30  "by  way 
of  his  Majesty's  reward."  Subsequently  they  were  summoned  to 
appear  at  Hampton  Court  and  Whitehall.  Nine  plays  in  all  were 
acted  at  the  Christmas  and  New  Year  festivities. 

John  Davies  of  Hereford  in  "  Microcosmos  :  the  discovery  of  the 
Little  World,  ivith  the  government  thereof,*'  1603,  addressed  the 
players,  and  more  particularly  "  W.  S.  R.  B."  [i.e.  William  Shake- 
speare and  Richard  Burbage),  in  the  following  eulogistic  lines: 

"  Players,  1  love  ye  and  your  Quality, 
As  ye  are  men  that  pass  time  not  abused  : 
And  1  some  I  love  for^  painting,  poesie, 
And  say  fell  Fortune  cannot  be  excused 
That  hath  for  better  uses  you  refus'd  : 
Wit,  courage,  good  shape,  good  parts,  and  all  good, 
As  long  as  all  these  goods  are  no  worse  used, 
And  though  the  stage  doth  stain  pure  gentle  blood, 
Yet 3  generous  ye  are  in  mind  and  mood." 

1  "  W.  S.  R.  B."  :  in  the  margin. 

2  "  Simonides  saith  that  painting  is  a  dumb  Poesy,  and  Poesy  a  speak- 
ing painting":  in  the  margin. 

3  "  Roscius  was  said  for  his  excellency  in  his  quality,  to  be  only  worthy 
to  come  on  the  stage,  and  for  his  honesty  to  be  more  worthy  than  to  come 
thereon  ":  in  the  margin. 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1604 

This  year  were  published  the  first  quarto  of  Hamlet,  surrepti- 
tiously printed  (r/».  Preface) ;  Ben  Jonson's  Sejanus,  with  Shake- 
speare's name  in  the  list  of  actors  ;  and  Florio's  translation  or 
Montaigne's  Essays  (^cp.  Preface  to  Tempest). 


1604.  On  February  8th,  owing  to  the  continuance  of  the 
plague,  ^30  was  given  to  Burbage  "  for  the  maintenance  and 
relief  of  himself  and  company."  On  March  i  5th  King  James 
made  his  formal  entry  into  London  :  nine  actors  belonging  to  the 
King's  company  walked  in  the  procession,  each  being  presented 
with  four  yards  and  a  half  of  scarlet  cloth.  The  nine  actors 
named  were  '•  William  Shakespeare,  Augustine  Phillii)])s,  I^aurence 
Fletcher,  John  Hemmings,  Richard  Burbage,  William  Slve, 
Robert  Armyn,  Henry  Condell,  Richard  Cowley."  Dekker's 
description  of  "  The  Magnificent  Entertainment  "  with  the  speeches 
and  songs  ran  through  three  or  four  issues  during  the  year. 

On  April  9th  a  letter  was  sent  by  the  King  to  the  Mayor  and 
Justices  ordering  them  to  permit  playing  by  the  King's  men  at  the 
Globe,  and  the  Queen's  and  Prince's  men  at  "  their  usual  houses," 
viz.,  the  Fortune  and  the  Curtain,  respectively. 

In  June  Shakespeare  must  have  been  at  Stratford  :  on  the  25th 
of  the  month  he  lent  the  sum  of  two  shillings  to  one  Philip  Rogers, 
who  already  owed  him  ^\.  19s.  lod.  for  malt  supplied  between 
March  27th  and  the  end  of  May.  He  paid  six  shillings  off  the 
debt.  In  July  Shakespeare  sued  him  in  the  local  court  at  Strat- 
ford for  the  balance  of  ^^i.  15s.  lod. 

The  following  letter  from  Sir  Walter  Cope  to  **  The  Right 
Honourable  the  Lord  Viscount  Cranborne  at  the  Court, ^^  belongs  to 
this  year : — 

"Sir, — I  have  sent  and  been  all  this  morning  hunting  for  players, 
jugglers,  and  such  kind  of  creatures,  but  find  them  hard  to  find,  wherefore 
leaving  notes  for  them  to  seek  me.  Burbage  is  come,  and  says  there  is  no 
new  play  that  the  Queen  hath  not  seen,  but  they   have  revived  an  old 


i6o4  ANNALS  OF  THE 

one,  called  Love'j  Labour  Lost,  which  for  wit  and  mirth  he  says  will  please 
her  exceedingly.  And  this  is  appointed  to  be  played  to-morrow  night 
at  my  lord  of  Southampton's,  unless  you  send  a  writ  to  remove  the  Corpus 
cum  causa  to  your  house  in  Strand.  Burbage  is  my  messenger  ready  attend- 
ing your  pleasure,— Yours  Most  Humbly,  Walter  Cope." 

In  August  every  member  of  the  company  was  summoned 
to  be  in  attendance  at  Somerset  House,  on  the  occasion  of  the 
visit  of  the  Spanish  Ambassador  to  England,  but  there  is  no 
evidence  that  their  professional  services  were  required. 

The  King's  Company  acted  at  court  on  November  i  and  4, 
December  26  and  28.  It  is  almost  certain  that  Othello  was 
acted  on  November  i,  and  Measure  for  Measure  on  December 
26 

Other  performances  by  the  company  were  given  on  the  following 
January  7  and  8,  February  2  and  3,  and  on  Shrove  Sunday,  Shrove 
Monday,  and  Shrove  Tuesday. 

In  January  of  this  year  "The  Children  of  the  Chapel  "  became 
"The  Children  of  Her  Majesty's  Revels." 

In  this  year  the  second  Quarto  of  Hamlet  was  published — 
"  Newly  imprinted  and  enlarged  to  almost  as  much  again  as  it  was, 
according  to  the  new  and  perfect  copy." 

A  tragedy  of  Gotury  twice  acted  by  the  King's  Players,  "with 
exceeding  concourse  of  people  "  gave  offence,  and  is  noticed  towards 
the  end  of  the  year : — "  Whether  the  matter  or  manner  be  not 
well  handled,  or  that  it  be  thought  unfit  that  princes  should  be 
played  on  the  stage  in  their  lifetime,  I  hear  that  some  great  coun- 
cillors are  much  displeased  with  it,  and  so  'tis  thought  it  shall  be 
forbidden"  (Chamberlain  to  Winwood). 

On  December  26,  Measure  for  Measure  was  produced  for 
the  first  time  at  Whitehall. 

l605.  Augustine  Phillipps  bequeathed  "to  my  fellow, 

William  Shakespeare,  a  thirty-shillings  piece  of  gold." 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1607 

On  March  3,  at  Oxford,  was  baptised  William  D'Avenant 
(afterwards  Sir  W.  D'Avenant),  son  of  John  D'Avenant,  land- 
lord of  the  Crotun  Inn,  Shakespeare  acting  as  godfather. 

According  to  Aubrey  : — "  Mr  William  Shakespeare  was  wont 
to  go  into  Warwickshire  once  a  year,  and  did  commonly  in  his 
journey  lie  at  this  house  in  Oxon.,  where  he  was  exceedingly 
respected." 

In  this  year  Shakespeare  bought  the  unexpired  lease  of  a 
moiety  of  the  Stratford  tithes. 

1606.  Macbeth  was  probably  completed  this   year   [cp. 

Preface). 

On  December  26  King  Lear  was  produced,  for  the  first  time, 
before  the  Court  at  Whitehall. 


l607»  Shakespeare's  daughter  Susanna  was  married  on 

June  5,  of  this  year,  to  John  Hall,  who  subsequently  became 
"very  famous"  as  a  physician  (^cp.  "Select  Observations  on 
English  bodies,  or  cures  both  emperical  and  historical,  performed 
upon  very  eminent  persons  in  desperate  diseases,  first  written  in 
Latin  by  Mr  John  Hall,  physician,  living  at  Stratford-upon-Avon, 
in  Warwickshire,  where  he  was  very  famous,  as  also  in  the 
counties  adjacent,  as  appeares  by  these  Observations,"  etc., 
London  1657), 

In  this  year  The  Puritan  ;  or,  the  IFiJow  of  IVatUng  Street  was 
published,  containing  a  direct  reference  to  Banquo's  Ghost — "  In- 
stead of  a  jester  we'll  have  a  ghost  in  a  white  sheet  sit  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  table." 

Shakespeare  was  probably  at  work  on  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra. 

In  this  year  was  published  Mirrha,  the  Mother  of  Acionij,  or 
Lustes  Prodegies,  by  William  Barksted,  containing  the  following 
concluding  lines  : — 


i6o8  ANNALS  OF  THE 

"  But  stay,  my  Muse,  in  thine  own  confines  keep, 
And  wage  not  war  with  so  dear  lov'd  a  neighbour ; 
But  having  sung  thy  day-song,  rest  and  sleepe  ; 
Preserve  thy  small  fame  and  his  greater  favour. 
His  song  was  worthy  merit ; — Shakespeare,  he 
Sung  the  fair  blossom,  thou,  the  withered  tree; 
Laurel  was  due  to  him ;  his  art  and  wit 
Hath  purchased  it;  cypress  thy  brow  will  fit." 

On  November  26  King  Lear  was  entered  on  the  "  Stationers' 
Registers." 

1608.  Two  quartos  of  King  Lear  issued  from  the 
press   (c/.    Preface'). 

On  February  2 1  Elizabeth  Hall,  Shakespeare's  only  grand- 
daughter, was  baptised  in  the  church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon. 

On  September  9,  Shakespeare's  mother  was  buried. 

On  October  16,  of  this  year,  Shakespeare  stood  godfather  to 
William,  son  of  Henry  Walker,  mercer  and  alderman,  Stratford- 
on-Avon. 

Timon  of  Athens  was  probably  being  prepared  for  the  stage  during 
this  year. 

On  May  20  Edward  Blount  entered  in  the  "  Stationers' 
Registers"  "a  booke  called  Anthony  and  Cleopatra"  (but  no 
quarto  edition  was  issued). 

George  Wilkins  published  in  this  year  a  novel,  avowedly  based 
on  the  acted  drama  of  Pericles,  with  the  following  title-page : — 
"  The  Painful  Adventures  of  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre.  Being  the 
true  History  of  Pericles,  as  it  was  lately  presented  by  the  worthy 
and  ancient  Poet,  John  Gower." 

1609.  Two  editions  of  the  play  of  Pericles  were  issued, 
"by  William  Shakespeare"  [but  evidently  only  in  part  by  him, 
otherwise  by  George  Wilkins :   though  re-issued  in   161 1,  1619, 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1610 

1630,  and  1635,  the  play  was  not  included  in  either  the  first  or 
second  folios,  cp.  Preface~\. 

1609.  On  January  28  Richard  Bonian  and  Henry  Walley 
obtained  a  license  for  "  a  booke  called  the  history  of  Troylus  and 
Cressida,"  t.e.  Shakespeare's  play,  which  soon  after  was  published 
as  a  quarto,  (i)  with  a  title-page  stating  that  the  play  was  printed 
"  as  acted  by  the  King's  Majesties  servants  at  the  Globe,"  and 
(ii)  with  a  title-page  omitting  this  reference,  and  adding  a  preface 
to  the  effect  that  the  play  was  "  never  staled  with  the  stage, 
never  clapper-clawed  with  the  palms  of  the  vulgar,"  etc.  {^cp. 
Preface ) . 

On  May  20  a  license  for  the  publication  of  "  Shakespeare's 
Sonnets"  was  granted  to  the  publisher,  Thomas  Thorpe;  the 
volume  was  shortly  afterwards  published  [cp.  Preface). 

Coriolanus  probably  belongs  to  this  year  [cp.  Preface). 

At  the  end  of  the  year,  Shakespeare's  Company  took  possession 
of  the  Blackfriars  Theatre  after  the  departure  of  the  Children  of 
the  Chapel. 

1 610  [possibly  an  error  for  161 1].  On  April  20  of 
this  year  Dr  Simon  Forman  was  present  at  a  performance  of 
Macbeth  at  the  Globe,  and  recorded  the  fact,  with  observations,  in 
his  "  Book  of  Plays." 

Dr  Simon  Forman  saw  Cymbeline  acted  either  this  year  or  the 
next  (the  Diary  contains  reports  of  Shakespearian  representations 
in  1 6 1  o- 1 6 1 1 ,  but  no  date  is  assigned  to  the  Cymbeline  entry,  cp. 
Preface). 

An  interesting  pamphlet  was  published  this  year  by  Sylvester 
Jourdain,  entitled  A  Discovery  of  the  Barmudas,  otherivise  called 
the  He  of  Devils  ;  by  Sir  Thomas  Gates,  Sir  George  Sommers,  ana 
Captayne  Neivport,  and  divers  others.  (William  Strachey's  fuller 
account  of  the  matter  was  printed  in  1612,  Preface  to  Tempest). 

John   Davies  of  Hereford's  The  Scourge  of  Folly,  consisting  of 


i6ii 


ANNALS  OF  THE 


satirical  Epigrams  and  others  In  honour  of  many  noble  and  worthy 
persons  of  our  land,  contains  the  following  verses  addressed  "  Tc 
our  English  Terence,  Mr  Will  :  Shake-speare" : — 

"  Some  say,  good  Will,  which  I,  in  sport,  do  sing, 
Had'st  thou  not  played  some  kingly  parts  in  sport, 
Thou  hadst  been  a  companion  for  a  king, 
And  been  a  King  among  the  meaner  sort. 
Some  others  rail,  but  rail  as  they  think  fit, 
Thou  hast  no  railing,  but  a  reigning  wit ; 
And  honesty  thou  sow'st,  which  they  do  reap, 
So  to  increase  their  stock  which  they  do  keep." 

In  April  Shakespeare   purchased  from  the  Combes  20  acres  of 
land  [cp.  1602). 

161 1-  On  May    15   Dr    Forman    witnessed  the   per- 

formance of  jt4  Winter  s  Tale  at  the  Globe  Theatre — evidently  a 
new  play  at  the  time  {^cp.  Preface). 


New  Place,  Stratford,  1702. 

There  is  no  autnentic  record  of  the  appearance  of  the  house  as  it  was 

in  Shakespeare's  time. 

Malone  stated,  on  evidence  no  longer  accessible,  that  The  Tempest 
was  in  existence  in  this  year. 

Shakespeare's  name  is  found  on  the  margin  of  a  subscription  list 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 


1613 


started  at  Stratford-on-Avon  on  September  11,  "towards  the 
charge  of  prosecuting  the  bill  in  Parliament  for  the  better  repair 
of  the  highway."  By  this  time  he  had  probably  settled  at  New 
Place. 


"H^S^cJf/c 


161 3.  On     February    4    Shakespeare's    third    brother 

Richard  was  buried  in  the  parish  church,  Stratford-upon-Avon. 
Soon  afterwards  Shakespeare  was  in 
London,  and  purchased  a  house,  as  an 
investment,  in  Blacklriars.  The  pur- 
chase-deed, dated  March  10,  with  the 
poet's  signature,  is  preserved  in  the 
Guildhall  Library,  London.  Next  day 
a  mortgage-deed  relating  to  the  pur- 
chase was  signed  :  this  is  also  extant, 
and  is  now  in  the  British  Museum. 

To  this  year,  July  1 5,  belongs  an 
entry  by  the  Registrar  of  the  Ecclesi- 
astical Court  of  Worcester,  concerning 
an  action  for  slander  brought  by  Shake- 
speare's eldest  daughter,  Susanna  Hall, 
against  a  person  of  the  name  of  Lane. 
Robert  Whatcott,  Shakespeare's  friend,  c-      .        tci.  1  T'     1. 

'  r  '    Signature  of  Shakespeare  from  the 

was  the  chief  witness  on  behalf  of  the        deed  mortgaging  his  house  in 

Blacklriars,  on  March  II,  1612- 
plaintifr,     whose     character     was     vindi-  3,  now  in  the  British  Museum. 

cated,  and  the  defendant  who  did  not  appear  in  court  was  excom- 
municated. 

The  Tempest,  one  of  a  series  of  nineteen  plays,  was  performed  at 
the  festivities  in  celebration  of  the  marriage  of  Princess  Elizabeth 
with  the  Elector  Frederick. 

Besides  The  Tempest,  six  more  of  Shakespeare's  plays  were 
produced  on  this  occasion  :  —  Much  Ado,  Tempest,  Winter  s  Tale, 
Sir  John  Falstaff,  (i.e.  Merry  Wives),  Othello,  Julius  Casar,  and 
Hotspur  (probably  i  Henry  IV.). 


i6i3  ANNALS  OF  THE 

In  the  same  list  occurs  the  lost  play  of  cardenno  or  cardenna, 
which  on  September  9,  1653,  was  entered  on  the  "Stationers' 
Registers "  as  "  by  Fletcher  and  Shakespeare,"  but  was  never 
published. 

On  June  29th  of  this  year  the  Globe  Theatre  was  burned  down 
during  the  performance  of  a  play  on  the  subject  of  Henry  VIIL 
{^cp.  Preface). 

^^A  Sonnet  upon  the  pitiful  burning  of  the  Globe  playhouse  tn  London^ 
was  composed  by  one  who  was  well  acquainted  with  the  details  of 
the  fire : — 

"  Now  sit  ye  down,  Melpomene, 
Wrapt  in  a  sea-cole  robe, 
And  tell  the  doleful  tragedy, 
That  late  was  played  at  Globe  ; 
For  no  man  that  can  sing  and  say 
Was  scared  on  St.  Peter's  daye. 

Oh  sorrow,  pitiful  sorrow,  and  yet  all  this  is  true. 


Out  run  the  knights,  out  run  the  lords. 

And  there  was  great  ado  ; 

Some  lost  their  hats  and  some  their  swords. 

E'en  out-run  Burbidge  too; 

The  reprobates  though  drunk  on  Monday, 

Prayed  for  the  fool  and  Henry  Condye. 

Oh  sorrow,  pitiful  sorrow,  and  yet  all  this  is  true. 

The  perriwigs  and  drum-heads  fry, 

Like  to  a  butter  firkin, 

A  woful  burning  did  betide 

To  many  a  good  buffjerkin. 

Then  with  swoll'n  eyes,  like  drunken  Flemminges, 

Distressed  stood  old  stuttering  Hemminges. 

Oh  sorrow,  pitiful  sorrow,  and  yet  all  this  is  true. 

161 4.       Ben    Jonson    in    the    Introduction    to    his    Bar- 
tholome'w  Fairy  first  acted  in  this  year,  alluded  to  The  Tempest : — 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 


1615 


"If  there  be  never  a  Servant-monster  i'  the   Fair,  who  can   help 

it,    he   says  ?  nor   a   nest  of  j'hitics.     He  is  loth  to  make  nature 

afraid    in   his   Plays,    like 

those     that     beget    Tales, 

Tempests,    and    such    like 

Drolleries. 

In  July  of  this  year 
John  Combe  died,  leav- 
ing Shakespeare  a  legacy 

In  the  autumn  an 
attempt  was  made  by 
William  Combe,  John 
Combe's  heir,  to  enclose 
the  common  fields  about 
his  estate  at  Welcombe. 
Shakespeare's  interest  as 
landowner  and  leaseholder  of  tithes  would  have  suffered  if  the  pro- 
ject had  been  carried  out.  On  October  18,  Replingham,  Combe's 
agent,  agreed  to  give  him  full  compensation  for  injury  by  "any  in- 
closure  or  decay  of  tillage,"  and  accordingly  he  did  not  oppoee  the 
inclosure.      The  Corporation,  however,  maintained  its  opposition. 

In  November  Shakespeare  went  to  London,  and  his  cousin, 
Thomas  Greene,  town  clerk  of  Stratford,  visited  him  there  to 
discuss  the  matter  on  behalf  of  the  Corporation.  On  December 
23,  the  Corporation  addressed  a  formal  letter  to  Shakespeare, 
supported  by  a  private  note  to  "  my  cousin  "  from  T.  Greene, 
asking  him  to  support  their  opposition  to  the  inclosure  which  if 
carried  out  would  cause  great  inconveniences.  The  whole  project 
was  ultimately  abandoned. 


A  piece  of  glass,  WAS.  (William  and  Anne 
Shakespeare?)  supposed  to  have  come  Irom 
New  Place. 


1615.  In  Thomas  Greene's  diary  there  is  the  following 
entry  : — "  Sept.  Mr  Shakespeare  telling  J.  Greene  that  I  was 
not  able  to  beare  the  encloseing  of  Welcombe." 


i6i6  ANNALS  OF  THE 

l6l6-  Early  in  this  year  Francis  Collins,  a  solicitor  of 
Warwick,  prepared  the  draft  of  Shakespeare's  will  ;  the  engross- 
ment was  evidently  to  have  been  signed  on  January  25th,  but 
after  many  interlineations  and  erasures,  it  was  not  finally  signed 
until  March.  The  signature  was  appended  to  each  of  the  three 
sheets  of  the  will ;  these  three  signatures,  together  with  the  two 
referred  to  above,  are  the  only  undisputed  autographs  of  the  poet. 


Shakespeare's  Will— signatures  of  the  testator  and  witnesses. 

In  the  interval,  Judith,  the  poet's  younger  daughter,  was  married 
on  February  loth,  at  Stratford  Church,  to  Thomas  Quiney,  vintner 
and  wine-merchant,  son  of  the  Richard  Quiney  whose  letter  to 
the  poet  is  extant  [cp,  1598). 

The  marriage  was  somewhat  irregular  ;  and  the  parties  were 
summoned  a  few  weeks  afterwards  to  the  Ecclesiastical  Court  at 
Worcester,  and  fined  for  getting  married  without  a  license. 

It  would  seem  that  at  the  time  of  revising  and  signing  the  will, 
the  poet  was  seriously  ill.     According  to  a  local  tradition,  recorded 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 


1616 


in  the  Diary  of  the  Rev.  John  Ward,  vicar  of  Stratford-on-Avon 
(1662),  "Shakespeare,  Drayton,  and  Ben  Jonson  had  a  merry 
meeting,  and,  it  seems,  drank  too  hard,  for  Shakespeare  died  of  a 
fever  there  contracted,"  but  it  is  quite  clear  that  already,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  year,  the  poet  recognised  his  health  was  failing. 

On  April  23  (May  3,  new  style)  he  died,  having  completed  his 
fifty-second  year — the  death-day  in  all  probability  being  on  his 
birthday. 

Two  days  after  his  death,  on  the  25  th  of  April,  the  remains  of  the 
poet  were  interred  in  the  chancel  of  Stratford  Church.  On  a  flat  stone 
over  the  grave  the  following  words  were  subsequently  inscribed  : — 


Good  FREND  FOR  IE/SVS  5AKE  FORBEARE, 
TO  DIdG  TIE  DV£T    EN  CLOAKED  lEARE.: 

BlE^-E  BE  Y  MAN  Y  5PARES  TiE/S  ^S^TONE^, 
AMD  CVR^T  BE  HEY  MO  VE^   MY  BONE,S:. 


[A  letter  written  in  the  year  1694  by  \A'illiam  Hall,  an  Oxford 
graduate,  to  his  intimate  friend,  Edward  Thwaites,  the  eminent 
Anglo-Saxon  scholar,  contains  the  following  noteworthy  passage  : — 

"  I  very  greedily  embrace  this  occasion  of  acquainting  you 
with  something  which  I  found  at  Stratford-upon-Avon.  That 
place  I  came  unto  on  Thursday  night,  and  the  next  day  went 
to  visit  the  ashes  of  the  great  Shakespear,  which  be  interr'd  in 
that  church.  The  verses  which  in  his  life-time  he  ordered  to 
be  cut  upon  his  tombstone,  for  his  monument  have  others,  are  these 
which  follow,  '  Reader,  for  Jesus's  sake  forbear,  etc'  The  little 
learning  these  verses  contain  would  be  a  very  strong  argument  of 


i6i6  ANNALS  OF  THE 

the  want  of  It  in  the  author,  did  not  they  carry  something  in  them 
which  stands  in  need  of  a  comment.  There  is  in  this  church  a 
place  which  they  call  the  bone-house,  a  repository  for  all  bones 
they  dig  up,  which  are  so  many  that  they  would  load  a  great  num- 
ber of  waggons.  The  poet,  being  willing  to  preserve  his  bones 
unmoved,  lays  a  curse  upon  him  that  moves  them,  and  having  to 
do  with  clerks  and  sextons,  for  the  most  part  a  very  ignorant  sort 
of  people,  he  descends  to  the  meanest  of  their  capacities,  and  dis- 
robes himself  of  that  art  which  none  of  his  co-temporaries  wore  in 
greater  perfection.  Nor  has  the  design  missed  of  its  effect,  for, 
lest  they  should  not  only  draw  this  curse  upon  themselves,  but  also 
entail  it  upon  their  posterity,  they  have  laid  him  full  seventeen  foot 
deep,  deep  enough  to  secure  him."3 

On  June  22  the  will  was  proved  in  London  by  John  Hall, 
Shakespeare's  son-in-law  and  joint-executor  (see  Appendix). 

Some  years  after  (before  1623)  the  monument,  executed  by 
Gerard  Johnson,  was  erected  against  the  north  wall  of  the 
chancel ;  beneath  the  famous  bust  of  Shakespeare  is  the  following 
inscription  : — 

Judicio  Pylium,  genio  Socratem,  arte  Maronem, 
Terra  tegit,  populus  mseret,  Olympus  habet. 

Stay  passenger,  why  goest  thou  by  so  fast? 
Read,  if  thou  canst,  whom  envious  death  hath  plast 
Within  this  monument ;  Shakespeare  with  whome 
Quick  nature  dide  ;  whose  name  doth  deck  ys  tombe 
Far  more  than  cost ;  sith  all  y'  he  hath  writt 
Leaves  living  art  but  page  to  serve  his  witt. 

Obiit  Am  D0M616. 

^  tat  is  ^l,  die  Zi  Ap. 

Shakespeare's  widow  died  on  August  6,  1623,  and  was  buried 
near  the  poet  inside  the  chancel  ;  Mrs  Susanna  Hall,  the  elder 
daughter,  died  on  July  11,  1649,  and  was  buried  beside  her 
husband,  who  pre-deceased  her  in  1635  ;  the  inscription  on  her 
tombstone  {cp.  accompanying  illustration)  is  especially  noteworthy; 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 


Inscriptions 


Hi 


3l 


i 

i 

1  31 

i  i 

J  2  a 


s  3  3 


H 


2-5    3 


111 


i  I  s 


B  •-  a 


1       e  s  !  3 

E  z  8  ■"   e  3 
"  -   '  3  J  " 


I  3   i 


I  :  i  : 


y    ti    )i 


?  ? 


:  J  c  o.  s  3. 
1  1  5  '  ■a  s 
I  t^ll  i 


JJ      u      w      C 

a  &  3  3 
1  >  &^ 


I? 


.11 


Si 

C 

5 


o 

ha 

'3 

B 
o 


3!ll 


3  ;  ^ 


■  I  s  i  1   1 1 J I 


^^i- 

Mxi 


-  g 


J^i: 


i6i9  ANNALS  OF  THE 

Judith,  the  younger  daughter,  died  at  Stratford  on  February  9, 
1661-2  ;  Elizabeth,  the  poet's  only  grandchild,  was  married  in  1626 
to  Thomas  Nash,  who  died  in  1647,  and  after  his  death,  to  Sir 
John  Barnard  of  Abingdon,  near  Northampton  ;  she  died  on  the 
17th  of  February  1669-70,  leaving  no  issue  by  either  marriage. 
The  three  children  of  Judith  Shakespeare  died  young :  no  one  of 
them  attained  to  man's  estate.  On  the  death  of  Lady  Barnard 
the  heir  to  the  Henley  Street  property  was  Thomas  Hart,  the 
grandson  of  the  poet's  sister  Joan — the  last  of  the  Hart  family,  in 
the  male  line,  being  John  Hart  who  died  in  1800. 

1 619.  In  this  year  died   Richard  Burbage,  the  famous 

actor,  Shakespeare's  life-long  friend.  An  elegy  "  on  Mr  Richard 
Burbage  an  excellent  both  painter  and  player  "  composed  soon  after 
his  death,  recorded  his  chief  Shakespearian  roles  : — 

"  Some  skilful  limner  aid  me  ;  if  not  so, 

Some  sad  tragedian  help  to  express  my  woe  ; 

But,  oh!   he's  gone,  that  could  the  best  both  limn 

And  act  my  grief;  and  it  is  only  him 

That  I  invoke  this  strange  assistance  to  it, 

And  on  the  point  intreat  himself  to  do  it ; 

For  none  but  TuUy  Tully's  praise  can  tell. 

And  as  he  could  no  man  could  do  so  well 

This  part  of  sorrow  for  him,  nor  here  show 

So  truly  to  the  life  this  map  of  woe, 

That  griefs  true  picture  which  his  loss  hath  bred. 

He's  gone,  and  with  him  what  a  world  is  dead, 

Which  he  revived  ;  to  be  revived  so 

No  more  :  young  Hamlet,  old  Hieronimo, 

King  Lear,  the  grieved  Moor,  and  more  beside, 

That  lived  in  him,  have  now  for  ever  died. 

Oft  have  I  seen  him  leap  into  the  grave, 

Suiting  the  person  (that  he  seemed  to  have) 

Of  a  sad  lover  with  so  true  an  eye. 

That  then  I  would  have  sworn  he  meant  to  die. 

Oft  have  I  seen  him  play  this  part  in  jest 

So  lively,  that  spectators  and  the  rest 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1623 

Of  his  sad  crew,  whilst  he  but  seemed  to  bleed, 

Amazed  thought  even  that  he  died  indeed. 

And  did  not  knowledge  check  me,  I  should  swear 

Even  yet  it  is  a  false  report  I  hear, 

And  think  that  he  that  did  so  truly  feign 

Is  still  but  dead  in  jest,  to  live  again  ; 

But  now  he  acts  this  part,  not  plays,  'tis  known  ; 

Others  he  played,  but  acted  hath  his  own." 

In  this  year  were  published  a  second  edition  of  Merry  Wives 
and  a  fourth  edition  of  Pericles. 


1622.  Othello  first  printed,  as  a  quarto,  and  new  editions 
(the  sixth)  of  Richard  III.  and  i   tlenry  IV. 

1623.  In  this  year,  under  the  editorship  of  Shakespeare's 
fellow-actors  and  friends,  John  Heming  and  Henry  Condell, 
appeared  The  First  Folio,  containing  twenty  hitherto  unprinted 
plays  : — The  Tempest,  The  Tivo  Gentlemen,  Measure  for  Measure, 
Taming  of  the  Shreiv,  Comedy  of  Errors,  As  you  like  it,  AW s  Well, 
Twelfth  Night,  Winter  s  Tale,  Kin^  John,  I,  2,  3  Henry  VL, 
Henry  VIII.,  Coriolanus,  Timon,  Julius  desar,  Macbeth,  Antony  and 
Cleopatra,  and  Cymbeline. 

The  play  of  Troilus  and  Cressida,  though  included  in  the  First 
Folio,  was  omitted  in  the  tabic  of  contents  [cp.  Preface  to  Troilus 
and  Cressida^. 

The  editors  evidently  purposely  omitted  Pericles  (first  included, 
together  with  six  pseudo-Shakespeare  plays,  in  the  Third  Folio  of 
1663). 

[The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  was  first  published  in  1634,  as 
being  "by  the  memorable  worthies  of  their  time,  Mr  John 
Fletcher  and  Mr   William    Shakespeare,   gentlemen."] 

The  prefatory  matter  of  the  First  Folio  will  be  found  in  Vol.  I. 
of  tiie  present  edition  ;  it  should  be  noted  that  Ben  Jonson 
in   his   lines  "  I  will  not  lodge  thee  by   Chaucer,  or   Spenser,  or 


i623 


ANNALS  OF  THE 


Lord  Beaumont  He,"  etc.,  directly  referred  to  William  Basse's 
elegy  on  Shakespeare,  then  circulating  in  manuscript  (first  printed 
in  the  first  edition  of  Donne's  collected  poems,  1633)  :— 

On  Mr  Wm.  Shakespeare. 

He  died  in  April  1616. 

"  Renowned  Spenser  lie  a  thought  more  nigh 
To  learned  Chaucer,  and  rare  Beaumont  lie 
A  little  nearer  Spenser,  to  make  room 
For  Shakespeare  in  your  three-fold,  four-fold  tomb. 
To  lodge  all  four  in  one  bed  make  a  shift 
Until  Doomsday,  for  hardly  will  a  fift. 
Betwixt  this  day  and  that  by  Fate  be  slain. 
For  whom  your  curtains  will  be  drawn  again. 
If  your  precedency  in  death  doth  bar 
A  fourth  place  in  your  sacred  sepulchre, 
Under  this  carved  marble  of  thine  own. 
Sleep,  rare  Tragedian,  Shakespeare,  sleep  alone  ; 
Thy  unmolested  peace,  unshared  cave, 
Possess  as  Lord,  not  Tenant,  of  thy  grave, 

That  unto  us  and  others  it  may  be 

Honour  hereafter  to  be  laid  by  thee." 

(From  Lansdowne  MS.  temp.  James  I., 
modernised.) 

Among  the  commendatory  verses  prefixed  to  the  First  Folio  are 
some  lines  by  Leonard  Digges  :  another  poem  by  the  same  author 
is  found  prefixed  to  the  edition  of  Shakespeare's  poems  published 
in  1 640,  but  as  the  author  died  in  1635,  it  is  quite  possible  that  the 
poem  then  first  printed  was  originally  intended  for  the  1623  Folio, 
and  this  is  borne  out  by  the  general  tone  of  the  lines  : — 

"  Poets  are  born  not  made, — when  I  would  prove 
This  truth,  the  glad  remembrance  I  must  love 
Of  never-dying  Shakespeare,  who  alone 
Is  argument  enough  to  make  that  one. 
First,  that  he  was  a  poet  none  would  doubt. 
That  heard  th'  applause  of  what  he  sees  set  out 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  1623 

Imprinted  ;  where  thou  hast — I  will  not  say, 

Reader,  his  Works  lor  to  contrive  a  play 

To  him  'twas  none, — the  pattern  of  all  wit, 

Art  without  Art  unparalleled  as  yet. 

Next  Nature  only  helped  him,  for  look  thorough 

This  whole  book,  thou  shalt  find  he  doth  not  borrow 

One  phrase  from  Greeks,  nor  Latins  imitate, 

Nor  once  from  vulgar  languages  translate, 

Nor  plagiary-like  from  others  glean  ; 

Nor  begs  he  from  each  witty  friend  a  scene 

To  piece  his  Acts  with  ;  all  that  he  doth  write, 

Is  pure  his  own  ;  plot,  language  exquisite. 

But  oh  !   what  praise  more  powerful  can  we  give 

The  dead,  than  that  by  him  the  King's  Men  live. 

His  players,  which  should  they  hut  have  shared  the  fate, 

All  else  expired  within  the  short  term's  date. 

How  could  the  Globe  have  prospered,  since,  through  want 

Of  change,  the  plays  and  poems  had  grown  scant  ? 

But,  happy  verse  thou  shalt  be  sung  and  heard, 

When  hungry  quills  shall  be  such  honour  barred. 

Then  vanish,  upstart  writers  to  each  stage. 

You  needy  poetasters  of  this  age  ; 

Where  Shakespeare  lived  or  spake,  vermin,  forbear, 

Lest  with  your  froth  you  spot  them,  come  not  near  ; 

But  if  you  needs  must  write,  if  poverty 

So  pinch,  that  otherwise  you  starve  and  die. 

On  God's  name  may  the  Bull  or  Cockpit  have 

Your  lame  blank  verse,  to  keep  you  from  the  grave  : 

Or  let  new  Fortune's  younger  brethren  see, 

What  they  can  pick  from  your  lean  industry. 

I  do  not  wonder  when  you  offer  at 

Blackfriars,  that  you  suffer:   'tis  the  fate 

Of  richer  veins,  prime  judgments  that  have  fared 

The  worse,  with  this  deceased  man  compared. 

So  have  I  seen,  when  Ca:sar  would  appear, 

And  on  the  stage  at  half-sword  parley  were, 

Brutus  and  Cassius,  oh  how  the  audience 

Were  ravished  !    with  what  wonder  they  went  thence, 

When  some  new  day  they  would  not  brook  a  line 

Of  tedious,  though  well  laboured,  Catiline  ; 

Sejanus  too  was  irksome,  they  prized  more 


1623  ANNALS  OF  THE 

Honest  lago  or  the  jealous  Moor. 

And  though  the  Fox  and  subtle  Alchemist, 

Long  intermitted,  could  not  quite  be  missed. 

Though  these  have  shamed  all  the  ancients,  and  might  raise 

Their  author's  merit  with  a  crown  of  bays, 

Yet  these  sometimes,  even  at  a  friend's  desire 

Acted,  have  scarce  defrayed  the  seacoal  fire 

And  doorkeepers;  when,  let  but  Falstaff  come, 

Hal,  Poins,  the  rest, — you  scarce  shall  have  a  room, 

All  is  so  pestered  :  let  but  Beatrice 

And  Benedick  be  seen,  lo,  in  a  trice 

The  cockpit,  galleries,  boxes,  all  are  full 

To  hear  Malvolio,  that  cross-gartered  gull. 

Brief,  there  is  nothing  in  his  wit-fraught  book, 

Whose  sound  we  would  not  hear,  on  whose  worth  look, 

Like  old  coined  gold,  whose  lines  in  every  page 

Shall  pass  true  current  to  succeeding  age. 

But  why  do  I  dead  Shakespeare's  praise  recite, 

Some  second  Shakespeare  must  of  Shakespeare  write ; 

For  me  'tis  needless,  since  an  host  of  men 

Will  pay,  to  clap  his  praise,  to  free  my  pen." 

The  Second  Folio,  reprinted  from  the  First,  was  printed  in 
1632  ;  it  contained,  by  way  of  new  prefatory  matter,  sundry  verses 
by  various  writers,  a  fine  eulogy,  signed  I.  M.  S.,  and,  as  a  golden 
link  between  the  poets,  John  Milton's  anonymous  Epitaph  on  the 
Admirable  Dramatic ke  Poet,  JV.  Shakespeare^  written  in  1630, 
practically  the  young  poet's  first  appearance  in  print:  — 

"  What  need  my  Shakespeare  for  his  honour'd  bones, 
The  labour  of  an  age  in  piled  stones, 
Or  that  his  hallow'd  Reliques  should  be  hid 
Under  a  stary-pointing  Pyramid? 
Dear  Son  of  Memory,  great  Heir  of  Fame. 
What  needst  thou  such  dull  witness  of  thy  Name  ? 
Thou  in  our  wonder  and  astonishment 
Hath  built  thyself  a  lasting  monument 
For  whil'st,  to  the  shame  of  slow-endeavouring  Art, 
Thy  easy  numbers  flow,  and  that  each  heart 
Hath  from  the  leaves  of  thy  unvalued  Book 


I 


LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

Those  Delphic  lines  with  deep  impression  took 
Then  thou,  our  fancy  of  herself  bereaving, 
Dost  muke  us  marble  with  loo  much  conceiving, 
And  so  sepulcher'd  in  such  pomp  dost  lie 
That  Kings  for  such  a  Tomb  would  wish  to  die.' 


1623 


Shakespeare's  Birth-place,  1899. 


APPENDIX 


I. 


License  to  Fletcher,  Shakespeare,  and  others  to  play  comedies^ 

^c,  17  -^«y  1603. 

By  the  King. — Right  trusty  and  wel  beloved  Counsellour,  we 
greete  you  well,  and  will  and  commaund  you  that,  under  our  Privie 
Seale  in  your  custody  for  the  time  being,  you  cause  our  lettres  to  be 
directed  to  the  Keeper  of  our  Create  Seale  of  England,  comaund- 
ing  him  that  under  our  said  Greate  Seale  he  cause  our  lettres  to  be 
made  patentes  in  forme  following. — James,  by  the  grace  of  God 
King  of  England,  Scotland,  Fraunce  and  Irland,  Defender  of  the 
Faith,  &c.,  to  all  justices,  maiors,  sherifFes,  constables,  hedboroughes, 
and  other  our  officers  and  loving  subjectes  greeting.  Know  ye  that 
we,  of  our  speciall  grace,  certaine  knowledge  and  meere  motion, 
have  licenced  and  authorized,  and  by  these  presentes  doo  licence 
and  authorize,  these  our  servantes,  Lawrence  Fletcher,  William 
Shakespeare,  Richard  Burbage,  Augustine  Phillippes,  John 
Henninges®,  Henry  Condell,  William  Sly,  Robert  Armyn, 
Richard  Cowlye  and  the  rest  of  their  associates,  freely  to  use 
and  exercise  the  arte  and  facultie  of  playing  comedies,  tragedies, 
histories,  enterludes,  moralles,  pastoralles,  stage-plaies,  and  such 
other,  like  as  they  have  already  studied  or  heerafter  shall  use  or 
studie,  as  well  for  the  recreation  of  our  loving  subjectes  as  for  our 
solace  and  pleasure  when  we  shall  thinke  good  to  see  them,  during 
our  pleasure.  And  the  said  comedies,  tragedies,  histories,  enter- 
ludes, morall®,  pastoralles,  stage-plaies  and  such  like,  to  shew  and 


APPENDIX  The  King's  License 

exercise  publiquely  to  their  beet  commoditie,  when  the  infection  of 
the  plague  shall  decrease,  as  well  within  their  now  usuall  howse 
called  the  Globe  witiiin  our  countie  of  Surrey,  as  also  within 
any  towne-halles  or  mout-halles,  or  other  convenient  places 
within  the  liberties  and  freedome  of  any  other  cittie,  universitie, 
towne  or  borough  whatsoever  within  our  said  realmes  and  dominions, 
willing  and  comaunding  you  and  every  of  you,  as  you  tender  our 
pleasure,  not  only  to  permit  and  suffer  them  heerin  without  any 
your  lettes,  hinderances,  or  molestacions  during  our  said  pleasure, 
but  also  to  be  ayding  and  assisting  to  them,  yf  any  wrong  be  to 
tliem  offered,  and  to  allowe  them  such  former  courtesies  as  hath 
bene  given  to  men  of  their  place  and  qualitie.  And  also,  what 
further  favour  you  shall  shew  to  these  our  servantes  for  our  sake 
we  shall  take  kindely  at  your  handes.  In  witnes  whereof  Sec. 
And  these  our  lettres  shall  be  your  sufficient  warrant  and  discharge 
in  this  behalf.  Given  under  our  Signet  at  our  Mannor  of  Green- 
wiche  the  seavententh  day  of  May  in  the  first  yeere  of  our  raigne 
of  England,  Fraunce  and  Irland,  and  of  Scotland  the  six  and 
thirtieth. — Ex  :  per  Lake. — To  our  right  trusty  and  wel  beloved 
Counsellour,  the  Lord  Cecill  of  Esingdon,  Keeper  of  our  Privie 
Seale  for  the  time  being. 

II. 

Malone's  Memoranda  (in  the  Bodleian  Library)  from  the 
accounts  at  the  Revels  at  Court  for  1604  and  1605  ;  the  original 
source  of  the  information  (^formerly  at  the  Audit  Office  m  Somerset 
House)  cannot  now  be  found.  Cunningham's  list,  printed  in  1842 
tuas  probably  based  on  Malone's  document  : — 

1604  &  1605 — Ed'*.  Tylney — Sunday  after  Hallowmas — Merry 
Wyves  of  Windsor  perf"*  by  the  K's  players — Hallamas — in  the 
Banquetting  ho^  at  Whitehall  the  Moor  of  Venis — perP  by  the 
K's  players— on  S'  Stephens  Night — Mesure  for  Mesur  by  Shaxberd 


Malone's  Memoranda  APPENDIX 

perF.    by    the    K's    players — On    Innocents    night    Errors   by 

Shaxberd  perF.  by  the  K's  players— On  Sunday  following 
« How  to  Learn  of  a  Woman  to  wooe  by  Hewood, 
perP.  by  the  Q's  players— On  New  Years  Night— All  fools 
by  G.  Chapman  perP.  by  the  Boyes  of  the  Chapel— bet  New 
y".  day  and  twelfth  day — Loves  Labour  lost  perf**.  by  the  K's 
p :  "_0n  the  7th  Jan.  K.  Hen.  the  fifth  perf*.  by  the  K.'s  P"— 
On  8ih  Jan — Every  one  out  of  his  humour — On  Candlemas  night 
Every  one  in  his  humour — On  Shrove  sunday  the  Marchant  of 
Venis  by  Shaxberd— perf"^.  by  the  K's  P" — the  same  repeated  on 
Shrove  tuesd.  by  the  K's  Comm^ 


in. 

The  deed  from  Shakespeare  and  Trustees  to  Henry  Walker,  by 
ivhich  the  Blackfriars  Estate  ivas  mortgaged  to  the  latter,  1 1  th 
March,  1612-13  {in  the  British  Museum). 

This  Indenture  made  the  eleaventh  day  of  March,  in  the  yeares 
of  the  reigne  of  our  Sovereigne  Lord  James,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
king  of  England,  Scotland,  Fraunce  and  Ireland,  defender  of  the 
Faith,  &c.,  that  is  to  saie,  of  England,  Fraunce  and  Ireland  the 
tenth,  and  of  Scotland  the  six  and  fortith  ;  betweene  William 
Shakespeare,  of  Stratford-upon-Avon  in  the  countie  of  Warwick, 
gentleman,  William  Johnson,  citizein  and  vintener  of  London, 
John  Jackson  and  John  Hemmyng,  of  London,  gentlemen,  of 
th'one  partie,  and  Henry  Walker,  citizein  and  minstrell  of  London, 
of  th'other  partie:  Witnesseth  that  the  said  William  Shakespeare, 
William  Johnson,  John  Jackson  and  John  Hemmyng,  have 
dimised,  graunted  and  to  ferme  Ictten,  and  by  theis  presentes  doe 
dimise,  graunt  and  to  ferme  lett  unto  the  said  Henry  Walker  all 
that  dwelling-house  or  tenement,  with  th'appurtenaunces,  situate 
and  being  within  the  precinct,  circuit  and  compasse  of  the  late 
Black    Fryers,     London,    sometymes    in    the   tenure    of  James 


APPENDIX  Deed  to  Henry  Walker 

Gardyner,    esquiour,    and    since     that     in     the    tenure    of    John 
Portescue,     gent.,    and    now    or     late     being     in    the    tenure    or 
occupacion  of  one  William  Ireland,  or  of  his  assignee  or  assignes, 
abutting  upon  a  streete  leading  downe  to  Puddle  Wharffe  on  the 
east  part,  right  against  the  Kinges  Majesties  Wardrobe ;  part  of 
which  said  tenement  is  erected   over  a  greate   gate  leading  to  a 
pacitall  mesuage  which  sometyme  was  in   the  tenure  of  William 
Blackwell,  esquiour,    deceased,  and   since  that    in    the  tenure    or 
occupacion  of  the  right  honourable  Henry,  now  Earle  of  Northum- 
berland ;  and  also  all  that  plott  of  ground,  on  the  west  side  of  the 
same  tenement,  which   was  lately  inclosed  with   boordes   on  two 
sides  thereof  by  Anne  Bacon,  widow,  soe  farre  and  in  such  sorte 
as  the  same  was  inclosed  by  the  said  Anne  Bacon,  and  not  other- 
wise, and  being  on  the  third  side  inclosed  with  an  olde  brick  wall ; 
which  said  plott  of  ground  was  sometyme  parcell  and  taken  out  of 
a  great  voyde  peece  of  ground  lately  used  for  a  garden  ;  and  also 
the  soyle  whereuppon  the  said  tenement  standeth,  and  also  the  said 
brick  wall  and  boordes  which  doe  inclose  the  said  plott  of  ground, 
with  free  entrie,  accesse,  ingrcsse,  egresse  and  regresse,  in,  by  and 
through  the  said  great  gate  and  yarde  there,  unto  the  usuall  dore 
of  the  said  tenement ;    and  also  all  and  singuler  cellours,  sollers, 
romes,     lightes,    easiamentes,   profittes,    commodities    and    appur- 
tenaunces    whatsoever    to    the    said    dwelling-house     or    tenement 
belonging,  or  in  any  wise  apperteyning  ;  to  have  and  to  holde  the 
said   dwelling-house  or  tenement,  cellers,  sollers,  romes,  plott  of 
ground,  and  all  and  singuler  other  the  premisses  above  by  theis  pre- 
sentes  mencioned  to  bee  dimised,  and  every  part  and  parcell  thereof, 
with  th'appurtenaunces,unto  the  said  Henrye  Walker,  his  executours, 
administratours  and  assignes,  from  the  feast  of  th'annunciacion  of 
the  blessed   Virgin    Marye   next  comming  after  the  date  hereof, 
unto  th'ende  and  terme  of  one  hundred  yeares  from  thence  next 
ensuing,  and  fullie  to   bee  compleat  and  ended,  without  ympeach- 
ment  of  or  for  any  manner  of  waste  ;   yeelding  and  paying  there- 
fore   yearlie    during    the    said    terme    unto    the    said    William 


Deed  to  Henry  Walker  APPENDIX 

Shakespeare,  William  Johnson,  John  Jackson  and  John 
Hemmyng,  their  heires  and  assignes,  a  peppercorne  at  the  feast  of 
Easter  yearlie,  yf  the  same  bee  lawfuUie  demaunded,  and  noe  more  ; 
provided  alwayes  that  if  the  said  William  Shakespeare,  his  heires, 
executours,  administratours  or  assignes,  or  any  of  them,  doe  well 
and  trulie  paie  or  cause  to  bee  paid  to  the  said  Henry  Walker,  his 
executours,  administratours  or  assignes,  the  some  of  threescore 
poundes  of  lawful!  money  of  England  in  and  upon  the  nyne  and 
twentith  day  of  September  next  comming  after  the  date  hereof,  at 
or  in  the  nowe  dwelling-house  of  the  said  Henry  Walker,  situate 
and  being  in  the  parish  of  Saint  Martyn  neere  Ludgate,  of  London, 
at  one  entier  payment  without  delaie,  that  then  and  from  thensforth 
this  presente  lease,  dimise  and  graunt,  and  all  and  every  matter  and 
thing  herein  conteyned,  other  then  this  provisoe,  shall  cease,  deter- 
myne,  and  bee  utterlie  voyde,  frustrate,  and  of  none  effect,  as  though 
the  same  had  never  beene  had  ne  made,  theis  presentes,  or  any 
thing  therein  conteyned  to  the  contrary  thereof,  in  any  wise  not- 
withstanding. And  the  said  William  Shakespeare,  for  himselfe, 
his  heires,  executours  and  administratours,  and  for  every  of  them, 
doth  covenaunt,  promisse  and  graunt  to  and  with  the  said  Henry 
Walker,  his  executours,  administratours  and  assignes,  and  every 
of  them,  by  theis  presentes,  that  hee,  the  said  William  Shakespeare, 
his  heires,  executours,  administratours  or  assignes,  shall  and  will 
cleerlie  acquite,  exonerate  and  discharge,  or  from  tyme  to  tyme,  and 
at  all  tymes  hereafter,  well  and  sufficientlie  save  and  keep  harmles 
the  said  Henry  Walker,  his  executours,  administratours  and 
assignes,  and  every  of  them,  and  the  said  premisses  by  theis  pre- 
sentes dimised,  and  every  parcell  thereof,  with  th'appurtenaunces, 
of  and  from  all  and  al  manner  of  former  and  other  bargaynes,  sales, 
guiftes,  grauntes,  leases,  joyntures,  dowers,  intailes,  statutes,  recog- 
nizaunces,  judgmentes,  execucions,  and  of  and  from  all  and  every 
other  charges,  titles,  trobles  and  incumbraunces  whatsoever  by  the 
said  William  Shakespeare,  William  Johnson,  John  Jackson  and 
John  Hemmyng,  or  any  of  them,  or  by  their  or  any  of  their  meanes. 


APPENDIX  The  Will 

had,  made,  committed  or  donne,  before  th'ensealing  and  delivery  of 
theis  presentes,  or  hereafter  before  the  said  nyne  and  twentith  day 
of  September  next  comming  after  the  date  hereof,  to  bee  had,  made, 
committed  or  donne,  except  the  rentes  and  services  to  the  cheefc 
lord  or  lordes  of  the  fee  or  fees  of  the  premisses,  for  or  in  respect 
of  his  or  their  seigniorie  or  seigniories  onlie,  to  bee  due  and  donne. 
In  witnesse  whereof  the  said  parties  to  theis  indentures  inter- 
chaungablie  have  sett  their  seales.  Yeoven  the  day  and  yeares  first 
above  written.  1612.  —  IVm.  Shakspere.  —  Il^m.  Johnson.  —  Jo  : 
Jackson. — Sealed  and  delivered  by  the  said  William  Shakespeare, 
William  Johnson,  and  John  Jackson,  in  the  presence  of  Will  : 
Atkinson  ;  Ed  :  Query  ;  Robert  Andrewes,  scr.  ;  Henry  Lau- 
rence, servant  to  the  same  scr. 


IV. 
Shakespeare's  Will  {^preserved  at  Somerset  House). 
( The  Italics  represent  interlineations. ) 

Vicesimo  quinto  die  Januarii  Martii,  anno  regni  domini  nostri 
Jacobi,  nunc  regis  Anglie,  &c.  decimo  quarto,  et  Scotie  xlix" 
annoque  Domini   161 6. 

T.  Wmi.  Shackspeare. — In  the  name  of  God,  amen  !  I  William 
Shackspeare,  of  Stratford-upon-Avon  in  the  countie  of  Warr.  gent., 
in  perfect  health  and  memorie,  God  be  praysed,  doe  make  and 
ordayne  this  my  last  will  and  testament  in  manner  and  forme 
followeing,  that  ys  to  saye.  First,  I  comend  my  soule  into  the 
handes  of  God  my  Creator,  hoping  and  assuredlic  beleeving, 
through  thonelie  merittes  of  Jesus  Christe,  my  Saviour,  to  be  made 
partaker  of  lyfe  everlastinge,  and  my  bodye  to  the  earth  whereof  yt 
ys  made.  Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  unto  ffly— ssnse  io-L 
daughter  Judyth  one  hundred  and  fyftie  poundes  of  lawflill 
English    money,    to   be    paied    unto    her    in    manner    and    forme 


The  Will  APPENDIX 

followeing,  that  ys  to  saye,  one  hundred  poundes  in  discharge  of 
her  marriage  porcion  within  one  yeare  after  my  deceas,  with  con- 
sideracion  after  the  rate  of  twoe  shillinges  in  the  pound  for  soe 
long  tyme  as  the  same  shal  be  unpaied  unto  her  after  my  deceas, 
and  the  fyftie  poundes  residewe  thereof  upon  her  surrendring  of,  or 
gyving  of  such  sufficient  securitie  as  the  overseers  of  this  my 
will  shall  like  of  to  surrender  or  graunte,  all  her  estate  and 
right  that  shall  discend  or  come  unto  her  after  my  deceas, 
or  that  shee  nowe  hath,  of,  in  or  to,  one  copiehold  tenemente 
with  thappurtenaunces  lyeing  and  being  in  Stratford-upon- 
Avon  aforesaied  in  the  saied  countie  of  Warr.,  being  parcell  or 
holden  of  the  mannour  of  Rowington,  unto  my  daughter  Susanna 
Hall  and  her  heires  for  ever.  Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  unto 
my  saied  daughter  Judith  one  hundred  and  fyftie  poundes  more,  if 
shee  or  anie  issue  of  her  bodie  be  lyvinge  att  thend  of  three  yeares 
next  ensueing  the  daie  of  the  date  of  this  my  will,  during  which 
tyme  my  executours  to®  paie  her  consideracion  from  my  deceas 
according  to  the  rate  aforesaied ;  and  if  she  dye  within  the  saied 
terme  without  issue  of  her  bodye,  then  my  will  ys,  and  I  doe  gyve 
and  bequeath  one  hundred  poundes  thereof  to  my  neece  Elizabeth 
Hall,  and  the  fiftie  poundes  to  be  sett  fourth  by  my  executours 
during  the  lief  of  my  sister  Johane  Harte,  and  the  use  and  proffitt 
thereof  cominge  shal  be  payed  to  my  saied  sister  Jone,  and  after 
her  deceas  the  saied  1.''-  shall  remaine  amongst  the  children  of  my 
saied  sister  equallie  to  be  devided  amongst  them  ;  but  if  my  saied 
daughter  Judith  be  lyving  att  thend  of  the  saied  three  yeares,  or  anie 
yssue  of  her  bodye,  then  my  will  ys  and  soe  I  devise  and  bequeath 
the  saied  hundred  and  fyftie  poundes  to  be  sett  out  by  my  executours 
and  overseers  for  the  best  benefitt  of  her  and  her  issue,  and  the  stock 
not  to  be  paied  unto  her  soe  long  as  she  shalbe  marryed  and  covert 
baron  by  my  executours  and  ovcrscer3  ;  but  my  will  ys  that  she 
shall  have  the  consideracion  yearelie  paied  unto  her  during  her  lief, 
and,  after  her  deceas,  the  saied  stock  and  consideracion  to  bee 
paied  to  her  children,  if  she  have  anie,  and  if  not,  to  her  executours 


APPENDIX  The  Will 

or  assigncs,  she  lyving  the  saicd  tcrmc  after  my  dcccas,  Provided 
that  if  such  hushond  as  she  shall  att  thend  of  the  saied  three  yeares 
be  marryed  unto,  or  att  anie  after  ?,  doe  sufficientle  *"  assure  unto 
her  and  th issue  of  her  bodie  landes  awnswereable  to  the  porcion  by 
this  my  will  gyven  unto  her,  and  to  be  adjudegcd  so  by  my  ex- 
ecutours  and  overseers,  then  my  will  ys  that  the  saied  cl.''-  shalbe 
paied  to  such  husbond  as  shall  make  such  assurance,  to  his  owne  use. 
Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  unto  my  saied  sister  Jone  xx.''-  and  all 
my  wearing  apparrell,  to  be  paied  and  delivered  within  one  yeare  after 
my  deceas;  and  I  doe  will  and  devise  unto  her  the  house -wxth.  thappur- 
tenaunces  in  Stratford,  wherein  she  dwelleth,  for  her  naturall  lief, 
under  the  yearelie  rent  of  xij.''-    Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  unto  her 

three  sonns,  William  Harte, Hart,  and  Michaell  Hartc, 

fyve  poundcs  a  peece,  to  be  payed  within  one  yeare  after  my  deceas  •tG- 
fe€-6€tt-&at  for  her  within  one  yearc  atter  my  deceas  by  my  cxc€uteaf», 
with  thadviao  and  direccions  of  my  overseers,  tor  her  best  proffitt  untiU 
her  marriage,  and  then  the  same  with  the  increase  thereo^to-be-faied 
unto  hert  Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  unto  4jef  the  saied  Elizabeth  Hall 
all  my  plate  except  my  brml  silver  and  gilt  bole,  that  I  now  have  att 
the  date  of  this  my  will.  Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  unto  the 
poore  of  Stratford  aforesaied  tenn  poundes  ;  to  Mr.  Thomas  Combe 
my  sword ;  to  Thomas  Russell  esquier  fyve  poundes,  and  to 
Frauncis  Collins  of  the  borough  of  Warr.  in  the  countie  of  Warr., 
gent.,  thirteene  poundes,  sixe  shillinges,  and  eight  pence,  to  be 
paied  within  one  yeare  after  my  deceas.  Item,  I  gyve  and 
bequeath  to  Mr.  Richard  Tylor  thelder  Hamlett  Sadler  xxyj.*- 
viij.*^-  to  buy  him  a  ringe  ;  to  William  Raynoldes,getit.,  xxvj/-  viij/- 
to  buy  him  a  ring  ;  to  my  god-son  William  Walker  xx.'-  in  gold  ; 
to  Anthonye  Nashe  gent,  xxvj.^-  viij.''-,  and  to  Mr.  John  Nashe 
xxvj.^-  "u/T/.''-  in  gold ;  and  to  my  felloives,  John  Hemynges,  Richard 
Burbage,  and  Henry  Cundell,  xxvj.'-  viij/-  a  peece  buy  them  ringes. 
Item,  I  gyve,  will,  bequeath  and  devise,  unto  my  daughter  Susanna 
Hall, ybr  better  enabling  of  her  to  performe  this  my  'will,  and  toiuardes 
the  performans  thereof,  all  that  capitall  messuage  or  tenemente,  with 


The  Will  APPENDIX 

thappurtenaunces,  in  Stratford  aforesaied^  called  the  Newe  Place, 
wherein  I  nowe  dwell,  and  twoe  messuages  or  tenementes  with 
thappurtenaunces,  scituat  lyeing  and  being  in  Henley  streete  within 
the  borough  of  Stratford  aforesaied  ;  and  all  my  barnes,  stables, 
orchardes,  gardens,  landes,  tenementes  and  hereditamentes  what- 
soever, scituat,  lieing  and  being,  or  to  be  had,  receyved,  perceyved, 
or  taken,  within  the  townes,  hamlettes,  villages,  fieldes  and  groundes 
of  Stratford-upon-Avon,  Oldstratford,  Bushopton,  and  Welcombe, 
or  in  anie  of  them  in  the  saied  countie  of  Warr.  And  alsoeall  that 
messuage  or  tenemente  with  thappurtenaunces  wherein  one  John 
Robinson  dwelleth,  scituat  lyeing  and  being  in  the  Blackfriers  in 
London  nere  the  Wardrobe ;  and  all  other  my  landes,  tenementes, 
and  hereditamentes  whatsoever.  To  have  and  to  hold  all  and 
singuler  the  saied  premisses  with  their  appurtenaunces  unto  the 
saied  Susanna  Hall  for  and  during  the  terme  of  her  naturall  lief, 
and  after  her  deceas,  to  the  first  sonne  of  her  bodie  lawfuUie 
yssueing,  and  to  the  heires  males  of  the  bodie  of  the  saied  first 
sonne  lawfuilie  yssueinge,  and  for  defalt  of  such  issue,  to  the 
second  sonne  of  her  bodie  lawfuilie  issueinge,  and  ^  to  the  heires 
males  of  the  bodie  of  the  saied  second  sonne  lawfuilie  yssueinge, 
and  for  defalt  of  such  heires,  to  the  third  sonne  of  the  bodie  of  the 
saied  Susanna  lawfuilie  yssueing,  and  of  the  heires  males  of  the 
bodie  of  the  saied  third  sonne  lawfuilie  yssueing,  and  for  defalt  of 
such  issue,  the  same  soe  to  be  and  remaine  to  the  fourth  sonne, 
fyfth,  sixte,  and  seaventh  sonnes  of  her  bodie  lawfuilie  issueing  one 
after  another,  and  to  the  heires  males  of  the  bodies  of  the  saied 
fourth,  fifth,  sixte,  and  seaventh  sonnes  lawfuilie  yssueing,  in  such 
manner  as  yt  ys  before  lymitted  to  be  and  remaine  to  the  first, 
second  and  third  sonns  of  her  bodie,  and  to  their  heires  males,  and 
for  defalt  of  such  issue,  the  saied  premisses  to  be  and  remaine  to 
my  sayed  neece  Hall,  and  the  heires  males  of  her  bodie  lawfuilie 
yssueing,  and  for  defalt  of  such  issue,  to  my  daughter  Judith, 
and  the  heires  males  of  her  bodie  lawfuilie  issueinge,  and  for 
defalt  of  such  issue,  to  the  right  heires  of  me  the  saied  William 


APPENDIX  The  Will 

Shackspeare  for  ever.  Item^  J  gyve  unto  my  iviefe  my  second  best 
bed  iv'tth  the  furniture.  Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  to  my  saied 
daughter  Judith  my  broad  silver  gilt  bole.  All  the  rest  of  my 
goodes,  chattels,  leases,  plate,  jewels,  and  household  stuffc  whatso- 
ever, after  my  dettes  and  legasies  paied,  and  my  funerall  expences 
discharged,  I  gyve,  devise,  and  bequeath  to  my  sonne-in-lawe, 
John  Hall,  gent.,  and  my  daughter  Susanna,  his  wief,  whom  I 
ordaine  and  make  executours  of  this  my  last  will  and  testament. 
And  I  doe  intreat  and  appoint  the  sated  Thomas  Russell,  esquier, 
and  Frauncis  Collins,  gent.,  to  be  overseers  hereof,  and  doe  revoke 
all  former  wills,  and  publishe  this  to  be  my  last  will  and  testament. 
In  witnes  whereof  I  have  hereunto  put  my  seale  hand  the  daie  and 
yeare  first  above  written. — By  mc  William  Shakspeare. 

Witnes  to  the  publishing  hereof, —  Fra  :  CoUyns  ;  Julius  Shawc  ; 
John  Robinson  ;   Hamnet  Sadler  ;    Robert  Whattcott. 


V. 

"  De  Shakespeare  nostrati  "  (Of  Shakespeare,  our  fellow- 
countryman),  yrowi  Ben  Jonson's  *^  Timber,  or  Discoveries,  being 
Observations  on  Men  and  Manners  " printed  ifyj^i  ;  but  the  entry 
ivas  probably  written  about  1620  (f/>.  Ben  Jonson's  ^'^  limber  ^^  in 
the  *'  Temple  Classics  "  ;   and  Notes  to  "  Julius  Casar  "). 

I  remember  the  players  have  often  mentioned  it  as  an  honour  to 
Shakespeare,  that  in  his  writing  (whatsoever  he  penned)  he  never 
blotted  out  a  line.  My  answer  hath  been,  "  Would  he  had 
blotted  a  thousand,"  which  they  thought  a  malevolent  speech. 
I  had  not  told  posterity  this  but  for  their  ignorance  who  chose 
that  circumstance  to  commend  their  friend  by  wherein  he  most 
faulted  ;  and  to  justify  mine  own  candour,  for  I  loved  the  man, 
and  do  honour  his  memory  on  this  side  idolatry  as  much  as  any. 
He  was,  indeed,  honest,  and  of  an  open  and  free  nature  ;  had  an 
excellent  phantasy,  brave  notions,  and  gentle  expressions,  wherein 


The  Will  APPENDIX 

he  flowed  with  that  facility  that  sometimes  it  was  necessary  he 
should  be  stopped.  "  Sufflaminandus  erat"  ^  as  Augustus  said  of 
Haterius.  His  wit  was  in  his  own  power ;  would  the  rule  of  it 
had  been  so,  too  !  Many  times  he  fell  into  those  things,  could  not 
escape  laughter,  as  when  he  said  in  the  person  of  Caesar,  one 
speaking  to  him,  "  Cassar,  thou  dost  me  wrong."  He  replied, 
"  Csesar  did  never  wrong  but  with  just  cause  "  ;  and  such  like, 
which  were  ridiculous. ^  But  he  redeemed  his  vices  with  his 
virtues.  There  was  ever  more  in  him  to  be  praised  than  to  be 
pardoned. 

1  "He  ought   to   have  been   clogged";  cp.   Seneca,    Exc.    Controv.   iv. 

Procem.   7. 

2  Cp.  Julius  Casar,  iii.  I.  47,  where  the  First  Folio  reads:  "Know, 
CsEsar  doth  not  wrong,  nor  without  cause  Will  he  be  satisfied.  (Csesar 
is  the  speaker.") 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS 
Preface. 

Early  Editions.        ««  y,„us  and  Adonis"  was  first  printed  in  Quarto, 
in  1593,  with  the  following  title-page: — 

VENVS 
AND   ADONIS 

Vilia  mirclur  vulgut ;  mihijlauus  Apollo 
Pocula  Casialia  plena  ministret  aqua 


Printer's 
Device  : — 

An  anchor  with 
the  motto 

'  Anchor  a  spet' 


LONDON : 

Imprinted  by  Richard  Field,  and  are  to  be  sold  at 

the  signe  of  the  White  Greyhound  in 

Paules  Churchyard. 

1593- 

The  text  of  "  Venus  and  Adonis"  is  remarkable  for  its  accuracy,  and 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  poet  himself  superintended  the  printing 
of  the  poem,  and  was  responsible  for  the  wording  of  the  title-page.  A 
significant  fact  is  Shakespeare's  choice  of  the  printer:  Richard  Field 
was  the  son  of  Henry  Field,  a   tanner  of  Stratford-on-Avon  ;    he  was 


Preface  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 

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.  !n  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  copyright  was  registered  by  the  printer,  for  himself,  on 
April  the  i8th.  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  subsequent  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;!  similarly,  evidence  maybe  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,^  describes  the  poem  of  "  Venus  aud  Adonis  "  as  "  the  first 
heir  of  my  invention  " ;  some  critics,  taking  these  words  in  their  abso- 
lutely literal  sense,  refer  the  composition  of  the  piece  to  the  poet's 
younger  days  at  Stratford-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  refer- 
ence to  the  latter  it  must  be  remembered  that  no  Shakespearian  play  had 
as  yet  been  printed. § 

*i594;  1596;  IS99 ;  (?)  1600 ;  1602  (British  Museum);  1603  (Bodleian) ;  1617;  1620; 
1627;  1630;  (?)i63o;  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  Fac-similes  (No.  12). 

t  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,  Cam- 
bridge. 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  fuH  biography  is  given  in  Massey's  Sliake- 
speare's  Sonnets.) 

Chettle  was  probably  alluding  to  Southampton  when,  in  his  Kind  Hearts  Dream 
(1592)  he  refers  "to  divers  of  worship"  who  report  Shakespeare's  "uprightness  of 
dealing,"  and  his  "facetious  grace  in  writing." 

§  Shakespeare's  "  affectionate  love  of  nature  and  natural  objects,"  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 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c.  Proface 

Venus  and  Adonis  must  be  taken  in  close  connection  with  inch  pocrm  a^ 
Lodge's  Glaucus  and  Scilla,  and  Marlowe's  Hero  and  Ltander  ;  to  the  former 
of  these  small  "classical  epics"  (1589)  Shaicespeare's  poem  seems  to  hare 
been  indebted  for  its  versification,  as  perhaps  also  for  much  of  its  char- 
acteristic tone  and  diction.*  Marlowe's  poem,  left  unfinished  at  its 
author's  death  on  June  1,  1593,  has  certain  points  in  common  with 
Shakcpeare's,  but  it  is  difficult  to  determine  the  question  of  priority. 
The  famous  quotation  from  Hero  and  Lcander  in  As  You  Like  it,  was  made 
after  the  posthumous  publication  of  the  poem  in  1598,  and  there  is  no 
direct  evidence  of  Shakespeare's  knowledge  of  Marlowe's  work  before  that 
date.  Marlowe's  '■'■  rose-cheeked  Adoms"  was  perhaps  therefore  a  reminis- 
cence 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  performances  were  forbidden  ;  this 
meant  leisure  for  Shakespeare.  The  companies  went  on  tour  in  the 
course  of  the  year ;  whetlier  Shakespeare  was  one  of  the  travelling  actors 
is  not  known. 

Early  Raferences  \^^  "V«Min-;  and  Adonis."  The  earliest 
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 -Jloiving  vein  "  : — 

"  H^hose  '  Venus '  and  whose  '  Lucrece!  sweet  and  chasU, 
Thy  name  in/anus  immortal  book  have  plait; " 

in  the  same  year  Francis  Meres  published  his  famous  "  Comparative  Dis- 
course of  our  English  Poets  with  the  Greet,  Latin,  and  Italian  Poets  "  ;   "as  the 

of  the  poem  lent  itself  to  the  introduction  of  these  rural  reminiscences,  which  through- 
out Shakespeare's  career,  and  more  especially  in  his  early  plays,  exercised  their 
attraction  ;  many  links  might  be  pointed  out  connecting  Venus  and  Adonis  and 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

*  The  following  is  a  typical  example  of  Lodge's  verse  :— 

"He  tliat  hath  seen  tfu  sweet  Arcadian  boy 
Wiping  tlie  purple  from  his  forced  wound. 
His  frretty  tears  betokening  his  annoy. 
His  sighs,  his  cries,  his  falling  on  the  ground, 

Tlu  echoes  ringing  from  the  rocks  his  fall. 

The  trees  with  tears  reporting  of  his  thrall,'  etc. 

An  interesting  problem  is  whether  Shakespeare  at  first  attempted  a  sonnet-sequence 
on  the  subject,  and  subsequently  rejected  that  form  in  favour  of  the  less  monumental 
six-line  stanza  (vide  Passionate  Pilgrim,  iv.  v.  ix.). 


Preface  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 

soul  of  Euphorbus,"  he  observed,  "  was  thought  to  live  in  Pythagoras, 
so  the  sweet  witty  soul  of  Ovid  lives  in  mellifluous  and  honey-tongued 
Shakespeare  \  witness  his  Venus  and  Adonis,  his  Lucrece,  his  sugared  Sonnets 
among  his  private  friends,"  etc.  Again,  In  1599,  in  John  Weever's  verses 
^'Ad  Gulielmum  Shakespeare"  the  same  epithet,  "  honey-ton^ued  "  is  repeated  : — 

"  Honie-tongued  Shakespeare,  when  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  be  their  mother  ; 
Rose-cheek' d  Adonis  "with  his  amber  tresses, 
Faire fire-hot  Venus  char?ning  him  to  love  her; 
Chaste  Lucretia,  virgin-like  her  dresses. 
Proud  lust-stung  Tatjuin  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  Par- 
nassus" (the  second  of  the  three  "  Parnassus  "  plays),  acted  at  St  John's 
College  in  1599,  where  GuUio's  preference  for  "  Mr  SK«ke«pes..e'i 
vein"*  finds  exuberant  expression: — "O  sweet  Mi  Snakespeare! 
I'll  have  his  picture  in  my  study  at  the  court."  ..."  Let  this  duncified 
world  esteem  of  Spenser  and  Chaucer,  I  '11  worship  sweet  Mr  Shake- 
speare, and  to  honour  him,  will  lay  his  Venus  and  Adoris  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  GuUio  was,  however,  not  a  typical  representative  of  the  Uni- 
versity ;  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  Lucrece  rape? 

His  sweeter  verse  contains  heart-throbbing  life. 
Could  but  a  graver  subject  him  content. 
Without  love's  fioolish  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  plays, 
the  much  abused  Gabriel  Harvey,  Spenser's  "  Hobbinol,"  wrote  on  the 
fly-leaf  of  a  Chaucer  folio: — "The  younger  sort  take  much  delight  in 
Shakespeare's  Venus  and  Adonis  ;  but  his  Lucrece,  and  his  Tragedy  of  Hamlet, 

•  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. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c.  Preface 

Frince  of  Denmark,  have  it  in  them  to  please  the  wiser  sort."  One  thing 
is  quite  certain,  to  wit,  that  Shakespeare's  first  published  venture  brought 
him  no  little  contemporary  fame.* 

Tho  Sourc*^  of  Ihr  Pint.  Ovid's  Aff/a»»ior/>Ao/«,  Bk.  X.,  was  cer- 
tainly 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  abjuration  (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  edition. f 
Anyhow,  his  plot  departs  from  Ovid's  in  many  details.  Shakespeare 
may  have  read  Constable's  "  Shepherd^s  Song  of  Venus  and  Adonis,"  which, 
though  first  published  in  England's  Helicon  (^1600'),  had  perhaps  previously 
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  return  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  Thammuz 
are  but  variants  of  the  same  theme.  It  is  not  unhelpful  to  be  reminded 
of  the  genesis  of  Shakespeare's  sensuous  and  voluptuous  theme.* 

•  In  1598,  John  Marston,  the  satirist,  published,  as  '"  The  first  blooms  of  my  poesie," 
an  imitation  of  I'enus  and  Adonis,  under  the  title  of  "  TAe  Afe/amor^Aosis  0/ Pig- 
malions  Image;"  in  his  ^' Scourge 0/ Villainy'''  (Sat.  vi.)  Marston  pretended  that  the 
poem  was  a  satire  on  that  kind  of  poetry  ;  in  1509  it  was  ordered  to  be  burnt.  In 
Cranley's  Amanda  (1635)  it  is  mentioned,  together  with  Venus  and  Adonis  and  Hero 
and  Leander,  as  part  of  a  courtezan's  library.  Shakespe.ire's  allusion  to  "  Pygmalion's 
images,"  in  Measure  for  Measure,  III.  ii.  48,  should  be  noted.  William  Bark^ited's 
^^Mirrka,  tlie  another  of  Adonis,  or  Lust's  Prodigies"  ends  with  an  enthusiastic 
tribute  to  "  Venus  and  Aditiis"  and  its  author. 

t  Cp.  Prof.  Baynes'  articles  in  Fraser's  Magazine,  vol.  xxi.  pp.  83-ioa  ;  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  facsimile  page,  in  the  German  Shakespeare 
Society's  Transactions). 

J  Spenser's  curious  reference  to  the  Gardens  of  .\donis  should  be  noted  {Faerie 
Queene.  Book  III.  i.  34). 

The  Eastern  origin  of  the  myth  is  significantly  preserved  in  the  name  of  the  hero: 


Preface  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 

The  Pasionate  Pilgrim.  ^'■The  Passionate  Pilgrim''  was  first 
printed  in    1599,  with   tlie  following  title: — 

"The  I  Passionate  |  PILGRIME.  |  By  W.  Shakespeare.  \  AT  LONDON 
I  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  C  f  is  a  second  title: — "Sonnets  |  To  sundry 
notes  of  Musicke." 

In  1612  an  edition  was  issued  augmented  by  the  addition  of  some 
poems  by  Thomas  Heywood,  "  two  love-epistles,  the  first  from  Paris  to 
Hellen,  and  HdUn's  answer  back  again  to  Paris"  and  the  whole  were 
attributed  to  Shakespeare.  The  issue  is  described  as  "  the  third  edition" 
on  the  title-page,  but  no  second  edition  has  been  traced. 

In  deference  to  a  protest  on  Heywood's  part,:J;  the  piratical  publisher 
cancelled  the  first  title-page,  and  substituted  a  second,  omitting  Shake- 
speare's name  ;  the  Bodleian  copy  (formerly  the  property  of  Malone)  has 
the  two  title-pages,  the  original  one  being  left  by  some  inadvertence. 

In  1640  a  new  edition,  with  much  additional  matter,  altogether  un-Shake- 
spearian,  was  issued  as  "Poems:  written  by  Wil.  Shake-speare,  Gent." 

The  Contents  of  the  Volume.  "  77/<?  Passionate  Pilgrim"  has 
aptly  been  described  as  a  "  rag-picker's  bag  of  stolen  goods."  Like  many 
another  pirate-publisher,  Jaggard  must  needs  issue  a  book  purporting  to 

^^  Adonis  "=^"  Adon"  i.e.  Lord;  again,  anemone  ="  naaman"  "the  darling";  the 
Arabs  call  the  anemone  the  "  wounds  of  the  Naaman." 

According  to  Bion,  the  rose  sprung  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  Tamntuz"  the  Vulgate  renders,  " Et  ecce  ibi  -mulieres  sedebant 
ptangentes  Adonidan." 

*Cp.  Fac-simile  edition  among  Dr  Furnivall's  Quarto  Fac-similes ;  also  Charles 
Edmond's  reprint  of  the  Isham  copy,  discovered  in  1867 ;  these  and  the  "  Capell  "  copy 
are  the  only  copies  known. 

t  i.e.  before  the  song  beginning  with,  '  //  ivas  a  lording' s  daughter,'  etc. 

J  In  the  postscript  to  the  Apology  for  Actors,  1612,  Heywood  wrote  : — "  Here,  like- 
wise, I  must  necessarily  insert  a  manifest  injury  done  me  in  that  work  (viz.  the  Troia 
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  unknown  to  him)  presumed  to  make 
so  bold  with  his  name. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c.  Preface 

be  by  the  author  of  the  hour-  by  some  underhand  meann  he  obtained 
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' t 
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  manufactured  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  collection. 

Thf  Identincati.Mi  ,,(  ifn-  Pucais.  I.  II.  Shakespeare's  Son- 
nets, 138  and  144  (with  various  readings). 

III.  Longaville's  Sonnet  to  Maria  in  Love'i  Labour's  L<ut. 

IV.  (?)  Shakespeare's  (on  "  Venus  and  Adonis"). 

V.  From  Love's  Labour's  Lost. 

VI.  (?)  Shakespeare's  (on  "  Venus  and  Adonis"). 

VII.  (?)  Shakespeare's. 

VIII.  Probably  by  Richard  Barnfield,  in  whose  Poems  in  Divers  liumcrs, 
1598,  it  had  first  appeared. 

IX.  (?)  Shakespeare's  (on  "  Venus  and  Adonis"). 

X.  Probably  not  Shakespeare's. 

XI.  Probably  by  Bartholomew  Griffin  :  it  had  already  appeared,  with 
variations,  in  1596,  in  his  "  Fidessa  more  Chaste  than  Kind." 

Xn.   Probably  not  Shakespeare's. 
XIII.   Perhaps  by  the  author  of  X. 
XIV.-XV.  Probably  not  Shakespeare's.f 

XVI.  Not  Shakespeare's. 

XVII.  Dumain's  Poem  to  Kate,  Loves  Labour's  Lost  (IV.  iii.). 

XVIII.  Found  in  Weekes's  ^^  Madrigals,"  1597;  also  in  -'England's 
Helicon"  1600,  with  the  title  "  The  Untnoivn  Shepherd's  Complaint"  inA  sub- 
scribed "  Ignolo"  (probably  printed  from  the  1599  volume). J 

*  The  many  variant  readings  in  the  Shakespearian  portions  of  the  collection  were 
probably  due  in  some  cases  to  Jaggard's  editor,  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  heaveyi's  praise^  etc.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Holofernes 
chides  Nathaniel  for  not  finding  the  apostrophas,  and  so  missing  the  accent :  '  Ui  tne 
supervise  the  canzonet.'  Had  Jaggard  properly  supervised  it,  he  would,  I  think,  have 
read  '  Tliat  singes'  instead  of  'io  sing'  (cp.  "  Lo7'e's  Labour's  Lost"  Notes).  Some 
of  the  changes  in  the  Sonnets  may  have  been  intentional  for  the  purpose  of  obscuring 
references  to  the  person  alluded  to. 

t  Wrongly  printed  as  two  poems,  though  evidently  not  intended  as  such  in  the  First 
Edition. 

t  Cp.  Bullen's  edition  of  "  Englantts  Htlicon."  p.  xxi.,  where  he  gives  his  opinion 
in  favour  of  Barnfield's  authorship. 


Preface  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 

XIX.  Doubtfully  Shakespeare's.  The  poem  strongly  resembles  one 
section  of  fVi/lobie's  Avisa,  published  1594.* 

XX.  By  Christopher  Marlowe.  "  T/ic  Lovers  Answer,"  probably  by 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh.     In  England's  Helicon  the  poem  is  given  in  fuU.f 

XXI.  By  Richard  Barnfield,  from  "  Foems  in  di-vers  humours  "  1598 
(11.  1-28  found  also  in  "  England's  Helicon"  signed  "  Ignoto"). 

"  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  Shakespeare's  great  name,  and  it  perhaps  deserved  the 
almost  too  severe  though  eloquent  censure  which  a  modern  poet,  Mr 
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  most  part  than  dry 
rubbish  or  disgusting  refuse.  ...  I  need  not  say  that  those  three  excep- 
tions are  the  stolen  and  garbled  work  of  Marlowe  and  of  Barnfield,  our 
elder  Shelley  and  our  first-born  Keats  ;  the  singer  of  Cynthia  in  verse 
well  w^orthy  of  Endymion,  who  would  seem  to  have  died  as  a  poet  in  the 
same  fatal  year  of  his  age  that  Keats  died  as  a  man  ;  the  first  adequate 
English  laureate  of  the  nightingale,  to  be  supplanted  or  equalled  by  none 
until  the  advent  of  his  mightier  brother." 

"...  ©ur  poet,  bim 
TKIlbose  insigbt  mahes  all  otbers  6im ; 
S  tbousan&  poets  prie^  at  life, 
Hnb  onliB  one  amifc  tbe  strife, 
"IRose  to  be  Sbafeespeare." 

*  C/.  Preface  to  Sonnets,  on  the  subject  of  this  curiously  interesting  book. 

t  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." 


VENUS   AND   ADONIS 

Vilia  miretur  vulgus  ;  mihi  flavus  Apollo 
Pocula  Castalia  plena  ministret  aqua. 


To  the 

Right  Honorable  HENRIE  WRIOTHESLET, 

Earle  of  Southampton,  and  Baron  of  Tttchfield. 

Right  Honourable, 

T  KNOW  not  hoiu  I  shall  offend  in  dedicating  my 
vnpolisht  lilies  to  your   Lordship,  nor  honv  the 
ivorlde    will   censure    me  for   choosing    so    strong    a 
proppe  to    support  so  iveake  a  burthen,  onely  if  your 
Honour  seeme  but  pleased,  I  account  my  self  highly 
praised,  and  voive  to  take  aduantage  of  all  idle  houres, 
till  I  haue  honoured  you    with  some  grauer   labour. 
But  if  the  first  heire  of  my  ittuefition  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  answere  your  owne  wish, 
and  the  worlds  hopefull  expectation. 

Your  Honors  in  all  dutie, 

William  Shakespeare. 


I 


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  Venus  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. 

*  Vouchsafe,  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'll  smother  thee  with  kisses  ; 

*  And  yet  not  cloy  thy  lips  with  loathed  satiety, 

But  rather  famish  them  amid  their  plenty,  2o 

Making  them  red  and  pale  with  fresh  variety  ; 
Ten  kisses  short  as  one,  one  long  as  twenty  : 

A  summer's  day  will  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  livelihood, 
And,  trembling  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  was  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  \  $0 

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. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  lo  -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  stufFd  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  stream  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  fasten'd  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  will  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. 


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  j 
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  ;  loo 

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 ! 


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  ?        1 20 

*  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  we  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  :  I  go 

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  ;     1^0 

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. 


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  will  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.' 


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  j  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  :  1 90 

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  burneth  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  relentcth  :  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. 


Verses  35—39  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

'  What  am  I,  that  thou  shouldst  contemn  me  this  ? 

Or  what  great  danger  dwells  upon  my  suit  ? 

What  were  thy  lips  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. 

Well  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'll  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  hills  be  dry. 
Stray  lower,  where  the  pleasant  fountains  lie 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  40-44 

'  Within  this  limit  is  relief  enough, 
Sweet  bottom-grass  and  high  delightful  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 ; 

No  dog  shall  rouse  thee,  though  a  thousand  bark.' 

At  this  Adonis  smiles  as  in  disdain,  24T 

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  unto  a  tree, 
Breaketh  his  rein  and  to  her  straight  goes  he. 


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  sir,  and  forth  again. 

As  from  a  furnace,  vapours  doth  he  send  : 

His  eye,  which  scornfully  glisters  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. 


i 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  50-54 

Round-hooPd,  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  Jack, 
Save  a  proud  rider  on  so  proud  a  back.  500 

Sometime  he  scuds  tar  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  fcather'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,  gio 

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,  like  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. 


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. 


0. 
He 

Hii 
He 


h 
A 


)1 


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  as  thine,  thy  heart  my  wound  ;        gyo 
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.' 


Verses  65—69  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

Thus  she  replies :  '  Thy  palfrey,  as  he  should, 
Welcomes  the  warm  approach  of  sweet  desire : 
Affection  is  a  coal  that  must  be  cool'd ; 
Else,  suffer'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  like  a  jade  he  stood,  tied  to  the  tree. 

Servilely  master'd  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  j 
For  I  have  heard  it  is  a  life  in  death. 
That  laughs,  and  weeps,  and  all  but  with  a  breath. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  70     74 

'Who  wears  a  garment  shapeless  and  unfinish'J  ? 

Who  plucks  the  bud  before  one  leaf  put  forth  ? 

If  springing  things  be  any  jot  diminish'd, 

They  wither  in  their  prime,  prove  nothing  wortli  : 

The  colt  that 's  back'd  and  burthen'd  being  young 
Loseth  his  pride,  and  never  waxeth  strong.  ^20 

'  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  r 
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  ears  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  very  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  breedeth  love  by  smelling. 


Verses  75—79  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

'  But,  O,  what  banquet  wert  thou  to  the  taste,  I 

Being  nurse  and  feeder  of  the  other  four  !  i 

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,  }i 

Sorrow  to  shepherds,  woe  unto  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. 


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  j  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. 


Verses  85—89  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

*  Long  may  they  kiss  each  other,  for  this  cure ! 
O,  never  let  their  crimson  Uveries  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  bo  well  contented. 

So  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 ;  550 

The  owl,  night's  herald,  shrieks,  'tis  very  late  j 
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. 


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  j 
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  j 
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,  5^^ 

Or  like  the  froward  infant  still'd  with  dandling, 
He  now  obeys,  and  now  no  more  resistcth. 
While  she  takes  all  she  can,  not  all  she  listeth. 


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,  57 1 

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,  590 

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. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  loo     104 

Now  is  she  in  the  very  lists  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  languishcth  in  her  mishaps 

As  those  poor  birds  that  helpless  berries  saw. 

The  warm  effects  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. 


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,  63 1 

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  j  6So 

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. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  no     114 

'  This  sour  informer,  this  bate-brceding  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  living  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. 


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  off"  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. 


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. 

*  I  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 ;        y^o 
Wherein  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,  74^ 
The  marrow-eating  sickness,  whose  attaint 

Disorder  breeds  by  heating  of  the  blood  : 

Surfeits,  imposthumes,  grief  and  damn'd  despair. 
Swear  Nature's  death  for  framing  thee  so  fair. 


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  :  770 

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. 


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  car. 

And  will  not  let  a  false  sound  enter  there  j  780 

*  Lest  the  deceiving  harmony  should  run 
Into  the  quiet  closure  of  my  breast ; 

And  then  my  little  heart  were  quite  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  whose  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  lies. 


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.'  810 

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. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  140-   144 

She,  marking  them,  begins  a  wailing  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.' 


Verses  145— UP  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. 


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  flap-mouth'd  mourner,  black  and  grim,  920 

Against  the  welkin  volleys  out  his  voice  j 

Another  and  another  answer  him, 

Clapping  their  proud  tails  to  the  ground  below, 
Shaking  their  scratch'd  ears,  bleeding  as  they  go. 


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  will  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.' 


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 

O,  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  j 

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  off  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. 


Verses  165—169  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

0  hard-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  j 

Adonis  lives,  and  Death  is  not  to  blame  j 

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,  fearing  my  love's  decease. 

'  '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  ; 

1  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 ; 

Tell  him  of  trophies,  statues,  tombs,  and  stories 
His  victories,  his  triumphs  and  his  glories. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  170— 174 

*  O  Jove,'  quoth  she,  '  how  much  a  fool  was  I 
To  be  of  such  a  weak  and  silly  mind 

To  wail  his  death  who  lives  and  must  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  ;  I040 

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. 


Verses  175—179  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

Whereat  each  tributary  subject  quakes  ; 
As  when  the  wind,  imprison'd  in  the  ground, 
Strugghng  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  j 

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. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  180—184 

*  Alas,  poor  world,  what  treasure  hast  thou  lost ! 
What  face  remains  alive  that 's  worth  the  viewing  ? 
Whose  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  lived  and  died  with  him.    1080 

*  Bonnet  nor  veil  henceforth  no  creature  wear ! 
Nor  sun  nor  wind  will  ever  strive  to  kiss  you  : 
Having  no  fair  to  lose,  you  need  not  fear  j 

The  sun  doth  scorn  you,  and  the  wind  doth  hiss  you  : 
But  when  AJonis  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  off,  and,  being  gone. 

Play  with  his  locks  :  then  would  Adonis  weep  ;  1090 

And  straight,  in  pity  of  his  tender  years, 
They  both  would  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  ;  I  lOO 

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  his  sight,  they  him  with  berries. 


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.    1 1 10 

*  '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  must  confess. 
With  kissing  him  I  should  have  kill'd  him  first  j 
But  he  is  dead,  and  never  did  he  bless 

My  youth  with  his;  the  more  am  I  accurst.'  TI20 

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;  ^130 

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  ;  1 141 
Bud,  and  be  blasted,  in  a  breathing-while  j 

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  ruffian  shall  it  keep  in  quiet. 

Pluck  down  the  rich,  enrich  the  poor  with  treasures ; 

It  shall  be  raging-mad,  and  silly-mild,  ^^5^ 

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.' 


Verses  195— ^99  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. 


THE   PASSIONATE   PILGRIM 


I 

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  I  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  ?  lo 

O,  love's  best  habit  is  a  soothing  tongue, 

And  age,  in  love,  loves  not  to  have  years  told. 

Therefore  I'll  lie  with  love,  and  love  with  me. 
Since  that  our  faults  in  love  thus  smother'd  be. 

U 

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 :  lo 

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. 


HI.  and  IV.  THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 

III 

Did  not  the  heavenly  rhetoric  of  thine  eye, 

'Gainst  whom  the  world  could  not  hold  argument,  i„ 

Persuade  my  heart  to  this  false  perjury  ?  1^ 

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  offer : 

Then  fell  she  on  her  back,  fair  queen,  and  toward : 
He  rose  and  ran  away  ;  ah,  fool  too  froward. 


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'll  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  suffice ; 
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  :  lo 

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  ' ' 


VII.  i-i8  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  j        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 


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  ;  To 

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  remaia 

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,  lo 

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. 

12  D 


X.  and  XI.  THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 


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 :  lo 

O  yes,  dear  friend,  I  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  I  run  away  ! 


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  like  summer  morn,  age  like  winter  weather  ; 

Youth  like  summer  brave,  age  like  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  j  youth,  I  do  adore  thee  ; 

O,  my  love,  my  love  is  young  !  ro 

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  when  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  arc  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,  lo 

So  beauty  blemish'd  once's  for  ever  lost. 
In  spite  of  physic,  painting,  pain  and  cost. 


XIV.,  XV.  I-I2     THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 

XIV 

Good  night,  good  rest.     Ah,  neither  be  my  share  : 

She  bade  good  night  that  kept  my  rest  away  ; 

And  dafPd  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  sweetly  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  dreaming  night  j 

The  night  so  pack'd,  I  post  unto  my  pretty  ; 

Heart  hath  his  hope  and  eyes  their  wished  sight ;  lo 

Sorrow  changed  to  solace  and  solace  mix'd  with  sorrow; 

For  why,  she  sigh'd,  and  bade  me  come  to-morrow. 


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. 
Long  was  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  was  the  pain 
That  nothing  could  be  used  to  turn  them  both  to  gain,    lO 
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.  i-i8  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  !  lo 

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.' 


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. 
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 :  lO 

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,  2o 

Love  hath  forlorn  me, 

Living  in  thrall : 
Heart  is  bleeding, 
All  help  needing, 
O  cruel  speeding,  25 

Fraughted  with  gall. 


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. 


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,  5 

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  delight ; 
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. 


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.  20 

Serve  always  with  assured  trust. 

And  in  thy  suit  be  humble  true  j 

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. 
Have  you  not  heard  it  said  full  oft, 
A  woman's  nay  doth  stand  for  nought  ? 


40 


Think  women  still  to  strive  with  men, 

To  sin  and  never  for  to  saint : 

There  is  no  heaven,  by  holy  then,  4.5 

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  :  50 

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. 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM  XX.  1-20 


[XX] 

Live  with  me,  and  be  my  love, 
And  wc  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,  c 

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,  10 

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  my  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  thy  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  j 

*  Tereu,  Tereu  ! '  by  and  by  j 

That  to  hear  her  so  complain,  1 5 

Scarce  I  could  from  tears  refrain ; 

For  her  griefs  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  j 

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.  50 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM  XXI.  31-58 

Every  one  that  Hatters  thee 
Is  no  friend  in  misery. 
Words  are  easy,  hke  the  wind  ; 
Faithful  friends  are  hard  to  find : 
Every  man  will  be  thy  friend  25 

Whilst  thou  hast  wherewith  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  with  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,  ^^ 

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  ^^ 

He  with  thee  doth  bear  a  part. 
These  are  certain  signs  to  know 
Faithful  friend  from  flattering  foe. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 


Glossary. 


Advisedly,  deliberately ;  457. 
y(/?«/<fa',  enamoured  ;   157. 
Alarms,  alarums,  attacks  ;  424. 
Along,  at  full  length  ;  43. 
Angry-chafing,  chafing  with  anger  ; 

662. 
Askance,  looking  sideways  ;   342. 
^j/i/ri;,  ascend,  mount ;   150. 
Attaint,  infection  ;  741. 
Ay  me!  ah  me!  ;  833. 

Ban,  curse ;  P.P.  xix.  20. 

Bane,  death,  ruin  ;  372. 

Banning,  cursing  ;    326. 

Barred,  debarred  ;  784. 

Base;  "  to  bid  a  base,"  i.e.  to  chal- 
lenge to  a  race  ;  303. 

Bate-breeding,  causing  quarrel ;  655. 

Battery,  onset,  assault ;   426. 

5a«/ir,  battalion  ;   619. 

Bay;  "  at  a  bay,"  i.e.  "  the  state  of 
the  chase,  when  the  game  is 
driven  to  extremity  and  turns 
against  the  pursuers";  877. 

Bereaves,  impairs,  spoils  ;  797. 

Betvrayd,  betrayed,  disclosed  ;  P.P. 
xix.  54. 

Blunt,  savage;  884. 

Bootless,  profitless ;  422. 

Bottom-grass,  grass  growing  in  a 
deep  valley ;  236. 

Breathing-ivhile,  breathing  time ; 
1 142. 

Cabinet,  nest ;  854. 

Canker,  canker  worm  ;  656. 

Censure,  judge,  estimate  ;  Dedic. 

Charge,  blame  ;  P.P.  xv.  2. 

Circumstance,  elaborate  details  ;  844. 

Cleanly,  entirely ;  694. 

Clepes,  calls ;  995. 


Clip,  embrace ;  600. 
Closure,  enclosure ;  782. 
Coasteth  to,  makes  toward  ;  870. 
Cold;  "  c.  fault,"  cold  scent,  loss  of 

scent ;  694. 
CoOT^:/ji;oKj,  combustible ;  1162. 
Commission,  warrant  by  which  power 

is  exercised  ;  568. 
Compact,  composed  ;   149. 
Compassed,  arched,  round  ;  272. 
Conceit,  understanding  ;  P.P.  iv.  9. 
Conies,  rabbits ;  687. 
Contemn,     contemptuously     refuse ; 

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. 
Cytherea,  Venus;  P.P.  iv.  i  ;  vi.  3. 

Daf'd,  put  me  off;  P.P.  xiv.  3. 
Danger,  perilous  power;  639. 
Deal;    "no    d.,"    no    whit;    P.P. 

xviii.  27. 
Defeature,  AisfiguTement;  736. 
Z>^,  despise  ;  P.P.  xii.  11. 
Descant,  comment ;  P.P.  xiv.  4. 
Device,  manner,  cast  of  mind  ;  789. 
Denju-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    pursuit ; 

682. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 


Glossary 


Eare,  plough  ;  Dedic.  V.  and  A. 
Ebon,  black  ;   948. 
£«/ajy,  excitement ;   895. 
Embraiements,  emhl-?ices]    31 2. 
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. 
Flatus,  gusts  of  wind  ;  456. 
/^oW,  foolish  ;   1021. 
Fondling,  darling  ;  229. 
Forsook,  renounced,  proved  faithless 

to;    161. 
For  iL-hij,  because  ;  P.P.  x.  8  ;  xv.  12. 
Foul,  ugly  ;   133. 
Fret,  chafe ;  621. 
Frets,  corrodes ;  767. 

Goeth  about,  makes  attempts  ;  319. 
Grave,  wound  slightly  (with  a  play 

upon  "  engrave  ")  ;   376. 
Grey,  bluish-grey,  "  blue  "  ;   140. 

/fari/^afourV,  ill-featured  ;   133. 
/^(f6ci'^,  troublesome,  annoying   with 

a  quibble  on  the  literal  meaning)  ; 

156. 
Helpless,  unprofitable ;  604. 
His,  its ;   359. 

Immure,  shut  in  ;    1 1 94. 
Imperious,  imperial ;   996. 
Imposthumes,  abscesses  ;   743. 
Indenting,  zigzagging  ;   704. 
7«/«j//»§-,  inspiring ;  928. 
In  hand -with,  taking  in  hand  ;   912. 


Insinuate,  try  to  make  favour  with  ; 

1012. 
Insulter,  victor  ;    550. 
/n/i'Wwif/t//,  intentions  ;   222. 
Invention,   imagination,    imaginative 

faculty  ;  Dcdic.  V.  and  A. 

Jar,  quarrel  ;    100. 

Jealous;    "j.   of  catching,"   fearing 

to  be  caught ;   321. 
Jennet,  young  mare  ;   260. 

Kill,  till.'    the  old  English   battle- 
cry  ;  652. 

La-wnd,  lawn  ;   813. 

Leave,  license;   568. 

Listeth,  desires  ;  564. 

Livelihood,  VkmrnTition,  spirit;    26. 

Lure,  the  call  or  wliistle   by  which 

the  falconer   attracts  the  hawk  ; 

1027. 

Manage,  train,  break  in  ;   598. 
M.ine  (used  as  pluralj;   272. 
Marrd,    had    injuriously    caused  ; 

478. 
Match,  coxmpzct;  586. 
Mated,  bewildered  ;   909. 
Measures,  dances  ;    1 148. 
Mermaid,  siren  ;   429. 
ikf(>j,  misdoing ;   53. 
Mistrustful,    producing   distrust    or 

fear;   826. 
More,  greater  ;  78. 
ikfor/a/,  death-dealing  ;   618,953. 
JV/wzng-,  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  ");   1 1 15. 

OVrj/raTt)V,  o'erstrewed  ;   1143. 
Or/>n/,  bright-shining  ;   981. 
Oive,  own  ;  41 1. 


Glossary 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 


Pack,  begone  ;  P.P.  xv.  17. 

Fack'J,  sent  packing;  P.P.  xv.  5. 

/•tf/c,  enclosure  ;  230. 

,  paleness  ;  589. 

Paphos,  a  town  in  Cyprus,  sacred  to 
Venus  ;   1193. 

Passenger ,  wayfarer;   91. 

Passions,  grieves  j   1059. 

Philomela,  the  nightingale ;  P.P. 
XV.  5. 

Pine,  starve ;  602. 

Pith,  strength,  force  ;   26. 

Precedent,  indication  (Quartos,  ^'■pre- 
sident'';  Malone,  ''precedent"); 
26. 

Pricking  spur  ;  285.  The  Roman  spur 
was  never  made  with  a  rowel  but 
with  a  goad,  as  shewn  in  the 
annexed  engravings  from  originals 
in  the  Museo  Borbonico,  Naples. 


Proof,  defensive  armour;   626. 
Prove,  experience  ;   597. 
Proved,  tested  ;   608. 

Rank,  excessive,  over-full;  71, 
Reaves,  bereaves  ;  766. 
Relenteth,  softens  ;  200. 
Remorse,  mercy  ;   257. 
Repine,  repining,  sadness  ;  490 
Respecting,  seeing;   91 1. 
i?«/frfj,  considerations  ;  911. 


Root,  uproot  ;  636. 

Round ;  "  to  r.  me  on  th'  ear,"  ?  "  to 
strike  me  on  the  ear  "  ;  (?  "  /'  the 
ear  "  ;  i.e.  to  whisper  in  my  ear)  ; 
P.P.  xix.  51. 

Seld,  seldom;  P.P.  xiii.  7. 

Sensible,  endowed  with  feeling ;  436. 

Servile  to,  subject  to  ;   112. 

Set,  seated  ;   18. 

Severe,  merciless  ;  looo. 

Shag,  shaggy  ;  295. 

Shine,  brightness  ;   728. 

Short,  shorten;  P.P.  xv.  18. 

Shreivd,  mischievous,  evil ;  500. 

Silly,  simple  ;  467. 

,  innocent,  harmless  ;   1098. 

Sith,  since ;  762. 

Slips,  used  quibblingly  for  (i)  blun- 
ders,   (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 ;    causing 
them   to  appear   sullied    by  con- 
trast ;  9. 
Staled,  got  as  in  a  stall,  fixed  ;  P.P. 

xix.  2. 
Steep-up,    high,    precipitous ;    P.P. 

ix.  5. 
Stick,  hesitate;  P.P.  xix.  51. 
Stillitorij,  still  ;   443. 
Strangeness ,  distant  manner,  reserve  ; 

310. 
Strict,  tight,  close  ;   874. 
Suspect,  %\ls^\e\or\.-,   loio. 

Teen,  vexation  ;   808. 
Tc.t/'j',  irritated  ;   319. 
Thick-sighted,  short-sighted;    136. 
Think,  expect ;  P.P.  xix.  43. 
Timely,  early  ;   P.P.  x.  3. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 


Glossary 


Totjs,  whims  ;   I'.l'.  XIX.  33 
Treatise,  discourse  ;   774. 
Trench'J,  gashed  ;    1052. 
Turn;  "  this  good  t.,"  kind  action 
(with  perhaps  a  quibble  on   the 


rn  ;  ••  inis  goou  [.,  mi 
with  perhaps  a  quibbl 
irevious  "  turns")  ;   92. 


previous  "  turns 
Tushes,  tusks  ;  617. 

Uncouple,  set  loose  the  hounds  ;  673. 
Unkind,  childless  ;  204. 
f/n/r^a^j,  retraces ;  908. 
Up-till,  against,  on  ;  P.P.  xxi.  10. 
Urchin-snuuteJ,  snouted  like  a  hedge- 
hog ;   1105. 
Use,  interest ;  768. 

Faded,    faded  ;    P.P.    x.     i  ;    -oadeth, 

fadeth  ;  P.P.  jciii.  2. 
Vails,  lowers  ;   314. 
Venture       (pronounced        "venter," 

rhyming  with  ••  enter  ");   628. 
Vilia     miretur     -uulgus,     etc.      Ovid's 

Amoves,  Bk.  I.  El.  XV.  11.  35,  36  : — 


"  Let    iaie-conceilcd    -wits    admire    vile 
things , 
fair   Phahus  leads  me  to  the   Muses' 

springs," 
(?  Marlowe's  Version,  pub.  circa 
1598;   cp.   Ben    Jonson's    Poetaster, 
Act  I);   Motto  to  V.  and  A. 
^(///ur^,  ravenous  ;   551. 

Wat,   familiar    name    for    a    hare ; 

697. 
IVatch,  keep  awake;   584. 
^-^a/c/t,  watchman  ;  P.P.  xv.  2. 
IVear,  Wear  out  ;    506. 
Well-breath' d,  well  exercised,  in  good 

training  ;  678. 
When  as,  when  ;  999. 
Whether ;  "  they  know  not  w.,"  i.e. 

which  of  the  two  ;   304. 
Winks,  closes  the  eyes  ;  90. 
Wistly,  wistfully  ;    343. 
Withhold,  rtstva.in  ;  612. 
Wood,  mad  ;  740. 
Worm,  serpent  ;   933. 
Wract,  ruin  ;  558. 
Pfreafd,  revenged  ;    1004. 
Writon,  writ   about,  (?)  predicted  ; 

506. 


'  To  me  like  oaks,  to  thee  like  osiers  halved"  (P.  P.  v.  4). 

[The  fable  of  the  oak  and  osier  is  illustrated  in  Whitney's  Einbleiiis  (1586), 

by  an  engraving  which  is  here  reproduced.] 


Glossary 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 


Notes. 


Venus  AND  Adonis  :   i(,G,  '  shouldst' ;  Qmrto  \ ,  ^  should.' 
171.  cp.  Sonnet  I. 

211.    '  lifthis'  •   Quartos  I,  2,  3,  ^  liuelesse.' 

11 -i.'  Statue';  Quartos  I,  2,  i,' Statue' ■,cpA.  loi 3;  Quartos  3,4,  Statues.' 
231  ;   239;  689.    'deer';  Quartos  l,  2,  3,  '  deare.' 
272.   'j/aW,' so  Quartos  1-4;  the  rest,  '  stands.' 
283.    'stir';   Quartos  1,2,  2,' sturre.' 

304.    '  And  ivhether  ' ;    Quartos,  '  And  luhere  '  (i.e.  '  ivAe'er  '). 
334;  402.   'Jire' ;  Quartos   i,   2,  3,  '>r ' ;   but  'Jire,'  1.   494  (rhyming 

with  '  desire'). 

351.  '  With  one  fair  hand  she  heaveth  up 
his  hat.'  The  accompanying  example  of 
the  form  of  hat  used  by  Roman  and  Greek 
travellers,  and  consequently  in  classical  re- 
presentations of  Mercury,  is  taken  from  a 
figure  in  the  Parthenaic  procession,  in  the 
British  Museum. 

353.  'tenderer';  Quarto  I,  '  tendrer' ; 
the  rest,  '  tender.' 

362.    'gaol';   Quartos,  ' gaile' ;   '  laile.' 
392.     '  master' d';      Quartos     i,     2,     3, 
1.    114,    'mastering'  ;   Quartos  1,  2,  3,  '  maistring.' 
Quartos  l-io,  '  raine.' 
429.    'mermaid's'  ;  early   Quartos,  '  marmaides'  ;   '  marmaids' ;  cp.  1.   777; 
Quartos  I,  2,  3,  'marmaids'  ;   Quarto  4,  'mirmaides.' 
434.    'invisible';   Stee\er\s  con].  '  in-vincible.' 
454.    '  ivreck  ' ;  Quartos,  '  ivrade,'  '  ivrack  '  (cp.  1.  558). 
466.    'bankrupt';   Quartos,  '  bankrout,'  '  handrout,'  '  banquerout.' 
466.   'lo-ue';  S.  Walker  conj.  'loss.' 
507.    'verdure';   Quartos  I,  2,  3,  ' -uerdour' 
529.    'gait';   Quartos,  'gate.' 

547.   'prey';   Quartos,  '  pray'  {tho'  rhyming  with  'obey');  so 'prayes,' 
line  724,  and  'pray  '  (rhyming  with  '  day  '),  line  1097. 


'  maister'd'  ;    cp. 

39^- 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c.  Glossary 

567.    ^  -venturing'  ;   Quartos  ^  verilring.' 

599.    ^Tantalus";   QuzrtOS,  '  Tanlalut.' 

6z8.  'venture';  Quartos,  ' -uirn/fr  '  (rhyming  with  'enter'). 

632.    'eyes  fay';   Quartos  1,2,  '  eyes  paiei,' 

680.    'overs/toot'  Steevens  conj.  ;   Quartos  i,  2,  3,  'over-shut.' 

705.   '  doth  ' ;  Quartos  i,  2,  3,  '  do.' 

743.    '  imposthumes' ;    Quartos,  '  tmpostumes.^ 

781.    '  ri/n ';  Quartos  I,  2,  3,  '  ro/jn,r '  (rhyming  with  ^undone'). 

832.   'deeply';  S.  Walker  conj.  'doubly.' 

902.  'together';  Quartos,  'togither'  (rhyming  with  '  iihither' )  ;  cp. 
line  971  ;  Quartos  1,2,  3,  '  all  together  '  (rhyming  with  '  -weather  ' ) ;  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,  '  decesse  '  (rhyming  with  '  confess  '). 

loi  3-1014.  'stories  His';  Theobald's  conjecture;  Quartos,  'stories,  His.' 

1041.   'ugly';  Quarto  i,  '  ougly.' 

1067.    'Umb';   Quartos,  ' //CT.' 

HI7.   'been';   Quarto  I,  '  ^n.' 

1155.  'severe';  early  Quartos,  '  seveare'  (rhyming  with  'fear'). 

1161.  '  servile' ;  Quartos  1,2,'  seruill' ;  cp.  line  392,  '  servilely  '  ;  Quartos 
I,  2,  3,  '  seruilly.' 

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  Elizabethan 
musicians;  his  song-books  appeared  in  1597,  1600,  and  1603;  his 
"Pilgrim's  Solace"  in  i6i2.  There  are  many  references  to  him  in  Eliza- 
bethan and  later  literature,  more  especially  to  his  '  Lachrymx ;  or.  Seven 
Tears  figured  in  seven  heavenlie  Pavans'  (1605)  ;  {cp.  Bullen's  Lyrics  from 
EliTtabethan   Song-  Books  ) . 

XII.  12.    '  stay' St' ;   old  eds.  'stales.' 

XIII.  Two  copies  of  this  poem  "  from  a  corrected  MS."  were  printed 
in  Gent.  Mag.  XX.  521;  XXX.  39;  the  variants  do  not  improve  the 
poem. 

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.   1^^^,  '  nenying.' 


Glossary 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 


21.  '  Love  hath  forlorn  me  ' ;   Steevens  conj.  '  Love  forlorn  /. ' 

XVIII.  27-30.  ^ My  shepherd'' s pipe, ^ 
etc.  The  accompanying  engraving, 
from  a  bas-relief  on  the  Hotel  Bourg- 
theroulde  at  Rouen  {temp.  Francis 
I.),  represents  a  group  '  curiously 
identical  with  the  poet's  words.' 

31-32.  '  My  sighs  .  .  .  Procure 
to';  edd.  1599,  1612,  '  IVith  sighes 
.  .  .  procures  to '  ;  the  reading  of 
the  text  is  Malone's. 

43.  '  iaci-peeping'  ;  edd.  1599, 
161 2,  '  ilacie peeping.' 

XIX.  4-  'f'^'"^y>  partial  ivight ' ; 
Capell  MS.  and  Malone  conj.  with- 
drawn ;  edd.  1599,  1612,  ^  fancy 
(^party  all  mighty-   ed.  1 6 40,  ^ fancy 

(^partly  all  might)' ;  Malone  (from  M.S.  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,  ivhen'  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  luith  me,  and  be  my  love'  ;  in  England's  Helicon,  and  other 
early  versions  the  line  runs,  '  Come  live  ivith  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  in  the  1640  ed.,  where  ^'■Love's  Ans-wer"  is 
also  in  six  quatrains ;  the  additional  matter  was  evidently  also  derived 
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. 
F'air  lined  s tippers  Jor  the  cold. 
With  buckles  of  tlte  purest  gold'' 

The  last  stanza  runs  thus  : — 

' '  The  shepherds'  sivains  shall  dance  and  sing. 
For  thy  delight  each  May  vtorning  ; 
If  these  delights  thy  mind  Jiiay  move. 
Then  live  with  tne  and  be  my  love.' 


^1 


z-^iy-  //te:i^/ie^. 


^ 


^^S..^^^^,^^^,,,^^ 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 


Preface. 

The  Early  Editions.  The  first  edition  of  "Lucrece"  was  pub- 
lished 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  important  readings,  showing  that  the 
text  was  corrected  while  passing  through  the  press.  Seven  new  editions 
appeared  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  invention.  Chaucer  told  her  story  in  his  Legend 
of  Good  Women,  quoting  "Ovid  and  Titus  Livius  "  as  his  originals  (cp. 
Ovid's  Fasti,  ii.  741  ;  Livy,  Bk.  I.,  chs.  57,  58).  Lydgate  treated  the  same 
theme  in  his  "  Falls  of  Princes  "  ;  Painter,  in  his  "  Palace  of  Pleasure,"  1 567. 
There  were  other  English  renderings,  notably  "  ballads  "  entered  on  the 
Stationers' Registers  in  the  years  1568,  1570;  a  ballad  was  also  printed 
in  1576. 

Shakespeare  seems  to  have  read  Ovid's  version,  and  this  may  be  con- 
sidered his  main  source." f 

The  Date  of  Composition.  In  the  dedication  of  "  Tenus  and 
AJonis"  to  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  the  poet  had  vowed  "to  take  ad- 
vantage of  all  idle  hours  "  till  "  I  have  honoured  you  with  some  graver 
labour."    "  Lucrece  "  must  therefore  have  been  written  after  the  dedication 

*  C/S.  No.  35,  "Shakespere  Quarto  Fac-similes." 

t  Cp.  Baynes'  essay  on  Shakespeare  and  Ovid,  with  reference  to  his  early  poems 
(Eraser^ s  Magazine,  xxi.). 


Preface  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c. 

containing  these  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  affectionate  devotion. 

A  comparison  of  the  two  companion  poems,  Fenus  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  superiority  seems  to  have  been  noted 
by  Shakespeare's  contemporaries  * 

"  Who  loves  chaste  life,  there  Lucrece  for  a  teacher: 
Who  lis't  read  hist  therms  Venus  and  Adonis." 

(Freeman's  Runne  and  a  Great  Cast,  1614.) 

"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  enumer- 
ated the  poems  of  "mellifluous  and  honey-tongued  Shakespeare." 

The  framework  of  "  yf  Lowr's  Complaint,"  its  picturesqueness,  versifica- 
tion, diction,  repression,  tenderness,  and  beauty,  give  to  it  a  thoroughly 
Spenserian  character,  and  convey  the  impression  that  we  have  here  an 
early  exercise  in  the  Spenserian  style;  as  such  the  poem  links  itself 
ultimately  to   the   exquisite    "Complaints"  of  Spenser's   great  master, 

*  C/.  Preface  to  "  Venus  and  Adonis."  The  earliest  allusion  to  Shakespeare  by 
«rt>«^  occurs  in  connection  with  a  reference  to  his  Lucrece,  in  the  commencing  verses 
of  a  laudatory  address  prefixed  to  "  Willobie  his  Avisa,"  1594.  In  the  same  year  the 
author  of  an  Elegy  on  Lady  Helen  Branch  included  among  "our  greater  poetes"  : — 
"  You  that  have  writ  0/ Chaste  Lucretia"  :  Drayton's  reference,  in  his  Matilda,  also 
in  1594,  may  have  been  to  a  play  on  the  subject,  as,  in  all  probability,  was  Heywood's 
allusion  in  his  Apology/or  Actors,  1612.  Heywood's  play  on  Lucrece  is  not  devoid  of 
merit.  In  1595  the  following  words  are  found  in  the  margin  of  a  curious  volume, 
entitled  Polimanteia,  published  at  Cambridge  : — "  /4//  praise  -worthy  Lucrecia  Sweet 
Shakspeare." 

Sir  John  Suckling's  "supplement  of  an  imperfect  Copy  of  Verses  of  Mr  Wil.  Shake- 
spears"  appears  at  first  sight  to  commence  with  two  six- line  stanzas,  representing  a 
different  and  perhaps  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." 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c.  Preface 

GeofTrey  Chaucer,  with  their  ruthful  burden  ; — "  Pile  ii  dtdc  and  Luiied  \n 
gentil  herte."  * 

The  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle.  This  poem  first  appeared  in 
a  collection  published  by  Robert  Chester  in  1601,  under  the  following 
descriptive  title: — 

^'Love's  Mart  If  r ;  or,  Rosaline  Complaint.  Allegorlcally  shadoiuin^  the  truth 
of  Love  in  the  constant  Fate  of  the  Phanix  and  Turtle.  A  Poem  enterlaced  ivith 
much  varietie  and  raritie  ;  noivjirst  translated  out  of  the  venerable  Italian  Torquato 
Caliano,  by  Robert  Chester.  IVith  the  true  legend  of  famous  King  Arthur,  the  last 
of  the  nine  IVorthies,  being  the  first  essay  of  a  neiv  British  poet;  collected  out  of 
diverse  authentical  Records.  To  these  are  added  some  ne^v  compositions,  of  several 
modern  -writers  -whose  names  are  subscribed  to  their  several  -works,  upon  the  first 
subject :   viz..,  the  Phanix  and  Turtle." 

The  following  title  prefaces  these  new  compositions: — 

"Hereafter  |  follow  diverse  |  Poeticall  Essaies  on  the  former  sub- 
I  ject  ;  viz.  the  Turtle  and  Phanix.  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,  |  Sir  John  Salis- 
burie.   I  Dignum  laude  virum  Musa  vetat  mori,  MDCI." 

The  genuineness  of  the  contribution  with  Shakespeare's  name  sub- 
scribed is  now  generally  admitted,  though  no  successful  attempt  has  yet 
been  made  to  explain  the  allegory,  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  pro- 
bability the  occasion  and  subject  of  the  whole  collection,  which  has  so 
long  bafiBed  patient  research,  will  some  day  be  discovered,  and  Shake- 
speare's meaning  will  be  clear.  It  would  seem  from  the  title-page  that 
the  private  family  history  of  Sir  John  Salisbury  ought  to  yield  the 
necessary  clue  to  the  events.  There  is  not  much  to  be  said  in  favour  cf 
the  view  that  the  Phanix  shadows  forth  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  the  Turtle- 

*  Spenser's  volume  entitled  "  Co7nplaints:  containing  Sundry  Small  Poems  0/ the 
IVorlifs  Vanity  "  was  published  in  1591 :  cfi.  the  following  opening  lines  of  "  The 
Ruins  0/ Time"  with  "  y4  Lover's  Complaint"  : — 

"/4  -woman  sitting  sorroufully  -wailing. 
Rending  her  yellow  locks  like  7uiry  gold, 
About  her  shoulders  carelessly  down  trailing. 
And  streams  0/  tears  front  her  fair  eyes  forth  railings 
In  her  right  hand  a  broken  rod  site  held. 
Which  towards  heaven  she  seemed  on  high  to  -weld." 


Preface  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c. 

do-ve  typifies  "  the  brilliant  but  impetuous,  the  greatly  dowered  but  rash, 
the  illustrious  but  unhappy  Robert  Devereux,  second  Earl  of  Essex."* 
On  the  other  hand,  the  problem  is  not  settled  by  describing  the  allegory 
as  <'the  delineation  of  spiritual  union,"  and  refusing  to  recognise  the 
personal  allegory. f 

Emerson's  words,+  uttered  some  twenty  years  ago,  may  well  bear 
repetition: — "I  should  like  to  have  the  Academy  of  Letters  propose  a 
prize  for  an  essay  on  Shakespeare's  poem,  Let  the  bird  of  loudest  lay,  and 
the  Threnos  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." 


"  mow  :Bicl^  sour  af^g,  .  .  Ifgbt  m^  weaftcc  ciee,  .  . 
•Cbat  wbllBt  of  tbis  same  /Ketapbiesical, 
Oo^,  man,  nor  woman,  but  cUr'6  of  all, 
flD>s  labouring  tbougbts  wttb  6trainc^  arbour  sing, 
/IDs  muse  ma^  mount  witb  an  uncommon  wing." 


*  Cp.  Dr  Grosart's  edition  of  Love's  Martyr  {New  Shak.  Soc.  1878)  ;  vide  also  the 
same  scholar's  remarks  in  his  privately  printed  scarce  Elizabethan  books,  Manchester, 
1880,  etc.  ;  c/>.  Transactions  oi  New  Shak.  Soc. 

tQ.  Ilalliwell-Phillips'  Outlines,  vol.  i.  191. 

}  Preface  to  Parnassus,  1875. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 


To  the 

Right  Honourable,  HENRT  WRIOTHESLBT, 
Earle  of  Southhampton,  and  Baron  of  Titchjield. 

CT^HE  loue  I  dedicate  to  your  Lordship  is  without 
end :  ivhereof  this  Pamphlet  •without  beginning 
is  but  a  superfluous  Moity.  The  warrant  I  haue  of 
your  Honourable  disposition,  not  the  worth  of  my 
vtitutord  Lijies  makes  it  assured  of  acceptance. 
What  I  haue  done  is  yours,  nvhat  I  haue  to  doe  is 
yours,  being  part  in  all  I  haue,  deuoted  yours.  Were 
my  worth  greater,  my  duety  would  shew  greater, 
meane  time,  as  it  is,  it  is  bound  to  your  Lordship; 
To  ivhom  I  wish  long  Ife  still  lengthned  ivith  all 
happinesse. 

Your  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  Servius  Tullius  to  be 
cruelly  murdered,  and,  contrary  to  the  Roman  laws  and  customs, 
not  requiring  or  staying  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  virtues  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  intending,  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  dancing  and  revelling, 
or  in  several  disports.  Whereupon  the  noblemen  yielded  Collatinus 
the  victory,  and  his  wife  the  fame.  At  that  time  Sextus  Tar- 
quinius being  inflamed  with  Lucrece'  beauty,  yet  smothering  his 
passions  for  the  present,  departed  with  the  rest  back  to  the  camp  ; 
from  whence  he  shortly  after  privily  withdrew  himself,  and  was, 
according  to  his  estate,  royally  entertained  and  lodged  by  Lucrece 
at  Collatium.  The  same  night  he  treacherously  stcaleth  into  her 
chamber,  violently  ravished  her,  and  early  in  the  morning  spcedeth 
away.  Lucrece,  in  this  lamentable  plight,  hastily  dispatcheth 
messengers,  one  to  Rome  for  her  father,  another  to  the  camp  for 
Collatine.  They  came,  the  one  accompanied  with  Junius  Brutus, 
the  other  with  Publius  Valerius ;  and  finding  Lucrece  attired  in 
mourning  habit,  demanded  the  cause  of   her  sorrow.      She,  first 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

taking  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  Tarquins ;  and  bearing  the  dead  body 
to  Rome,  Brutus  acquainted  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  con- 
sent and  a  general  acclamation  the  Tarquins  were  all  exiled,  and 
the  state  government  changed  from  kings  to  consuls. 


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. 


Verses  4—7  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

O  happiness  enjoy'd  but  of  a  few  ! 

And,  if  possess'd,  as  soon  decay'd  and  done 

As  is  the  morning's  silver-melting  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  which  is  so  singular  ? 

Or  why  is  Collatine  the  publisher 

Of  that  rich  jewel  he  should  keep  unknown 
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  4*-* 

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-timeless  speed,  if  none  of  those: 
His  honour,  his  affairs,  his  friends,  his  state, 
Neglected  all,  with  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  ! 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  8— ii 

When  at  Collatium  this  false  lord  arrived,  Co 

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  that  o'er  with  silver  white. 

But  beauty,  in  that  white  intituled. 
From  Venus'  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  Lucrece'  face  was  seen. 

Argued  by  beauty's  red  and  virtue's  white : 

Of  cither'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. 


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,  80 

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  j 

For  unstain'd  thoughts  do  seldom  dream  on  evil  j 

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  j 

That  nothing  in  him  seem'd  inordinate, 

Save  sometime  too  much  wonder  of  his  eye, 

Which,  having  all,  all  could  not  satisfy  j 

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,  loo 

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. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  16-19 

He  stories  to  her  ears  her  husband'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  :  1 10 

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  j 
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. 


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.    lAo 

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  uf  night, 
When  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: 


Verses  28—31  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

*  Fair  torch,  burn  out  thy  light,  and  lend  it  not  ipo 
To  darken  her  whose  light  excelleth  thine  : 

And  die,  unhallow'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  bin.  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  Collatinus  dream  of  my  intent. 

Will  he  not  wake,  and  in  a  desperate  rage 

Post  hither,  this  vile  purpose  to  prevent?  2 20 

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. 

Mine  eyes  forgo  their  light,  my  false  heart  bleed  ? 

The  guilt  being  great,  the  fear  doth  still  exceed ; 

And  extreme  fear  can  neither  fight  nor  (ly,  230 

But  coward-like  with  trembling  terror  die. 

*  Had  Collatinus  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'll  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.' 


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  welfare  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  ; 

Love  thrives  not  in  the  heart  that  shadows  dreadeth  :    270 

Affection  is  my  captain,  and  he  leadeth  ; 

And  when  his  gaudy  banner  is  display'd, 
The  coward  fights,  and  will  not  be  dismay'd. 


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  where  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,  liatter'd  by  their  leader's  jocund  show, 

Stutf  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  marchcth  to  Lucrece'  bed. 


Verses  44—47  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

The  locks  between  her  chamber  and  his  will, 
Each  one  by  him  enforced,  retires  his  ward  j 
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  gio 

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  the  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  stay  his  course  doth  let, 
Till  every  minute  pays  the  hour  his  debt. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  48  -51 

*So,  so,'  quoth  he,  *  these  lets  attend  the  time,  ^go 

Like  little  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  ^  350 

*  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  ; 

Against  love's  fire  fear's  frost  hath  dissolution. 
The  eye  of  heaven  is  out,  and  misty  night 
Covers  the  shame  that  follows  sweet  delight.' 


Verses  52—55  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

This  said,  his  guilty  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  j  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  life,  her  world's  delight. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  56—59 

Ker  lily  hand  her  rosy  cheek  lies  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  white 
Show'd  like  an  April  daisy  on  the  grass, 
With  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  !  aqi 

Showing  life's  triumph  in  the  map  of  death, 

And  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  life. 

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. 


Verses  60—63  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

What  could  he  see  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,  450 

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.  44I 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  64     67 

They,  mustering  to  the  quiet  cabinet 
Where  their  dear  governess  and  lady  lies, 
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. 


Verses  68—71  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

First,  like  a  trumpet,  doth  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  what  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. 


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. 


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  53*-^ 

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  54^ 

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;  ^^l 

So  his  unhallow'd  haste  her  words  delays, 
And  moody  Pluto  winks  while  Orpheus  plays. 


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  j 
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  580 

To  strike  a  poor  unseasonable  doe. 


Verses  84—87  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

*  My  husband  is  thy  friend  ;  for  his  sake  spare  me  : 
Thyself  art  mighty  j  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  convert. 
O,  if  no  harder  than  a  stone  thou  art, 

Melt  at  my  tears,  and  be  compassionate  ! 

Soft  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  wrong'st  his  honour,  wound'st  his  princely  name. 

Thou  art  not  what  thou  seem'st ;  and  if  the  same,         600 

Thou  seem'st  not  what  thou  art,  a  god,  a  king ; 

For  kings,  like  gods,  should  govern  every  thing. 

'  How  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. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  88-  91 

'This  deed  will  make  thee  only  loved  for  fear;  610 

But  happy  monarchs  still  are  fear'J  for  love  : 
With  foul  offenders  thou  perforce  must  bear, 
When  they  in  thee  the  like  offences  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  office  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  r     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. 

O,  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  shalt  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  j 
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  thy  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. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  96 -99 

*  So  let  thy  thoughts,  low  vassals  to  thy  state ' — 
'  No  more,'  quoth  he  j  *  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  j  690 

This  hot  desire  converts  to  cold  disdain : 
Pure  Chastity  is  rifled  of  her  store, 
And  Lust,  the  thief,  far  poorer  than  before. 


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  Grace, 

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. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  104     107 

She  says,  her  subjects  with  fuul  insurrection 

Have  batter'd  down  her  consecrated  wall, 

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  away  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 ;  j^o 

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  offences  with  a  cunning  brow. 


Verses  io8— in  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

*  They  think  not  but  that  every  eye  can  see  750 
The  same  disgrace  which  they  themselves  behold  j 

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 ! 

Vast  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 ; 
Or  if  thou  wilt  permit  the  sun  to  climb 

His  wonted  height,  yet  ere  he  go  to  bed. 
Knit  poisonous  clouds  about  his  golden  head. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE        Verses  112— 115 

'With  rotten  damps  ravish  the  morninir  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  smothcr'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  ! 

Keep  still  possession  of  thy  gloomy  place, 

That  all  the  faults  which  in  thy  reign  are  made 
May  likewise  be  sepulchred  in  thy  shade  ! 

"  H 


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  810 

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  j 
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  Collatine's  dear  love  be  kept  unspotted : 
If  that  he  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,  820 

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  ! 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE         Verses  120     123 

'  If,  CoUatine,  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  entertain  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  coffers  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. 


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  weeds  take  root  with  precious  flowers ; 
The  adder  hisses  where  the  sweet  birds  sing  j  87 1 

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! 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  128     131 

'  Thy  secret  pleasure  turns  to  open  shame,  890 

Thy  private  feasting  to  a  public  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, 
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. 


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 !  p^o 

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  office  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 ; 


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  ravens'  wings, 
To  dry  the  old  oak's  sap  and  cherish  springs,  950 

To  spoil  antiquities  of  hammer'd  steel 
And  turn  the  giddy  round  of  Fortune's  wheel  j 

*  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. 
And  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. 


Verses  140—143        THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

*  Disturb  his  hours  of  rest  with  restless  trances, 
Afflict  him  in  his  bed  with  bedrid  groans  j 

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  j 
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  1 000 

As  slanderous  deathsman  to  so  base  a  slave  ? 


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  mlss'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  confirm'd  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. 


Verses  148-151  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'Poor  hand,  why  quiver'st  thou  at  this  decree  ?  I030 

Honour  thyself  to  rid  me  of  this  shame  ; 

For  if  I  die,  my  honour  lives  in  thee, 

But  if  I  live,  thou  livest  in  my  defame : 

Since  thou  couldst  not  defend  thy  loyal  dame, 
And  wast  afeard  to  scratch  her  wicked  foe. 
Kill  both  thyself  and  her  for  yielding  so.' 

This  said,  from  her  be-tumbled  couch  she  starteth. 
To  find  some  desperate  instrument  of  death : 
But  this  no  slaughterhouse  no  tool  imparteth 
To  make  more  vent  for  passage  of  her  breath ;  I040 

Which,  thronging  through  her  lips,  so  vanisheth 
As  smoke  from  jEtna  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  ! 


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,  I060 

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,  but  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  thee  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,  I080 

And  solemn  night  with  slow  sad  gait  descended 
To  ugly  hell  ;  when,  lo,  the  blushing  morrow 
Lends  light  to  all  fair  eyes  that  light  will  borrow : 
But  cloudy  Lucrece  shames  herself  to  see. 
And  therefore  still  in  night  would  cloister'd  be. 


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  j  the  other  wild. 

Like  an  unpractised  swimmer  plunging  still 
With  too  much  labour  drowns  for  want  of  skill. 

So  she,  deep-drenched  in  a  sea  of  care,  1 1 00 

Holds  disputation  with  each  thing  she  views, 

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  j 
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  ;  I  no 

Grief  best  is  pleased  with  grief's  society  : 
True  sorrow  then  is  feelingly  sufficed 
When  with  like  semblance  it  is  sympathized. 


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  limit  knows.  1 1 20 

*  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,  1 1 30 

So  I  at  each  sad  strain  will  strain  a  tear, 

And  with  deep  groans  the  diapason  bear ; 

For  burden-wise  I'll  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  j 

Who,  if  it  wink,  shall  thereon  fall  and  die. 

These  means,  as  frets  upon  an  instrument,  11 40 

Shall  tune  our  heart-strings  to  true  languishment. 


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  fly,  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 1 60 

Who,  having  two  sweet  babes,  when  death  takes  one, 
Will  slay  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. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  168—171 

'Her  house  is  sack'd,  her  quiet  interrupted,  1 1 70 

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'll  bequeath. 

Which  by  him  tainted  shall  for  him  be  spent, 

And  as  his  due  writ  in  my  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. 


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"  :       1 209 
Yield  to  my  hand ;  my  hand  shall  conquer  thee : 
Thou  dead,  both  die  and  both  shall  victors  be.' 

This  plot  of  death  when  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  fleet-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. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE        Verses  176     179 

But  as  the  earth  doth  weep,  the  sun  being  set, 

Each  flower  moisten'd  like  a  melting  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  they  drown  their  eyes  or  break  their  hearts. 

For  men  have  marble,  women  waxen,  minds,  1 240 

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;  1 250 

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. 


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,  I261 

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. 

That  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. 


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  :  '  if  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  toll. 

*  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.' 


Verses  i88— 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  j 

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  we  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  I^^I 

*  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. 


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,  ^4° 

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  true  respect 

To  talk  in  deeds,  while  others  saucily 

Promise  more  speed  but  do  it  leisurely  : 

Even  so  this  pattern  of  the  worn-out  age  135° 

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.  1 3^° 

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. 


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  ;  137° 

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  139° 

Pale  cowards,  marching  on  with  trembling  paces ; 
Which  heartless  peasants  did  so  well  resemble 
That  one  would  swear  he  saw  them  quake  and  tremble. 


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  roU'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  up  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  boU'n  and  red  j 
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. 


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  ^43^ 

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  M^o 

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  Pyrrhus'  proud  foot  lies. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  208—211 

In  her  the  painter  had  anatomized  M5o 

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  :  1 460 

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'll  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.  1470 

*  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. 


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  I480 

Upon  his  head  that  hath  transgressed  so ; 
Let  guiltless  souls  be  freed  from  guilty  woe: 

For  one's  offence  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  s wounds, 
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  Lucrece,  set  a-work,  sad  tales  doth  tell 

To  pencill'd  pensiveness  and  colour'd  sorrow ; 

She  lends  them  words,  and  she  their  looks  doth  borrow. 

She  throws  her  eyes  about  the  painting  round, 
And  who  she  finds  forlorn  she  doth  lament.  1500 

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. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  2i6     219 

In  him  the  painter  labour'd  with  his  skill 
To  hide  deceit  and  give  the  harmless  show 
An  humble  gait,  calm  looks,  eyes  wailing  still, 
A  brow  unbent,  that  seem'd  to  welcome  woe  ; 
Cheeks  neither  red  nor  pale,  but  mingled  so  1 510 

That  blushing  red  no  guilty  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  perjury  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  1 5  20 

For  perjured  Sinon,  whose  enchanting  story 

The  credulous  old  Priam  after  slew  5 

Whose  words,  like  wildfire,  burnt  the  shining  glory 

Of  rich-built  Ilion,  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 :  ^53° 

And  still  on  him  she  gazed,  and  gazing  still 

Such  signs  of  truth  in  his  plain  face  she  spied 
That  she  concludes  the  picture  was  belied. 


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  ?  ^55^ 

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.' 


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.         1 570 
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 

Brings  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. 


Verses  228-231  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

Which  when  her  sad-beholding  husband  saw,  ^59^ 

Amazedly  in  her  sad  face  he  stares  : 

Her  eyes,  though  sod  in  tears,  look'd  red  and  raw, 

Her  lively  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  ?       1 600 

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. 


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,  "  Awake,  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  will, 

I'll  murder  straight,  and  then  I'll  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. 


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  j 
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  dechned,  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. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE         Verses  240  -  243 

Which  speechless  woe  of  his  poor  she  attendcth 
And  his  untimely  frenzy  thus  awaketh  : 
'  Dear  lord,  thy  sorrow  to  my  sorrow  lendeth 
Another  power ;  no  flood  by  raining  slakcth. 
My  woe  too  sensible  thy  passion  maketh 

More  feeling-painful :  let  it  then  suffice 

To  drown  one  woe,  one  pair  of  weeping  eyes.      1 680 

*  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  j 

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,  1 690 

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  bcwray'd. 

But  she,  that  yet  her  sad  task  hath  not  said, 

The  protestation  stops.     '  O,  speak,'  quoth  she,  IJOO 
*How  may  this  forced  stain  be  wiped  from  me  ? 


Verses  244—247         THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  What  is  the  quahty  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 

While  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. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  248-251 

Stone-still,  astonish'd  with  this  deadly  deed,  17^0 

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  I740 

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  watery  rigol  goes. 

Which  seems  to  weep  upon  the  tainted  place  : 

And  ever  since,  as  pitying  Lucrece'  woes. 

Corrupted  blood  some  watery  token  shows  ; 
And  blood  untainted  still  doth  red  abide. 
Blushing  at  that  which  is  so  putriiied.  1 750 

*  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 
In  thy  sweet  semblance  my  old  age  new  born ; 
But  now  that  fair  fresh  mirror,  dim  and  old,  1 760 

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,  live  again,  and  see       1 7  70 
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  inward  soul 

Hath  served  a  dumb  arrest  upon  his  tongue;  1 780 

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  what  he  said. 


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:  1 790 

Then  son  and  father  weep  with  equal  strife 
Who  should  weep  most,  for  daughter  or  for  wife. 

The  one  doth  call  her  his,  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.' 

*0,'  quoth  Lucretius,  *I  did  give  that  life  1 800 

Which  she  too  early  and  too  late  hath  spill'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.  18 lo 

He  with  the  Romans  was  esteemed  so 
As  silly-jeering  idots  are  with  kings. 
For  sportive  words  and  uttering  foolish  things : 


Verses  260—263         THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

But  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  Collatinus'  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  suffer  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,         1 840 
We  will  revenge  the  death  of  this  true  wife  ! ' 


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,  185c 

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. 


A   LOVER'S   COMPLAINT 


A   Lover's   Complaint. 

From  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. 


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,  untuck'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  negligence. 

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  weeping  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  flood ; 

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. 


A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT  Verses  8-  ii 

These  often  bathed  she  in  her  fluxive  eyes,  50 

And  often  kiss'd,  and  often  'gan  to  tear ; 

Cried  '  O  false  blood,  thou  register  of  lies, 

What  unapproved  witness  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.  7° 

*  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. 


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  j 
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  ;  loo 

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. 


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,  lio 

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  1 20 

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  :  1 30 

Consents  bewitch'd,  ere  he  desire,  have  granted. 

And  dialogued  for  him  what  he  would  say, 

Ask'd  their  own  wills  and  made  their  wills  obey. 


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 

*  So  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,  1 50 

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  1 60 

By  blunting  us  to  make  our  wits  more  keen. 


A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT  Verses  24—27 

'Nor  gives  it  satisfaction  to  our  blood, 
That  we  must  curb  it  upon  others'  proof; 
To  be  forbod  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  ; 

Though  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  ;  1 80 

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 

Are  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  shame  did  find  ; 

And  so  much  less  of  shame  in  me  remains 

By  how  much  of  me  their  reproach  contains. 


Verses  28—31  ^  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT 

'  "  Among  the  many  that  mine  eyes  have  seen,  ipo 

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  j 

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.  2lo 

'  '*  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  tvit  well  blazon'd,  smiled  or  made  some  moan. 


A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT  Verses  32-35 

*  "  Lo,  all  these  trophies  of  affections  hot, 
Of  pensived  and  subdued  desires  the  tender, 

Nature  hath  charged  me  that  I  hoard  them  nut,  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  be. 

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, 
Whose  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,       2i^o 

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. 


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,  hberty  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  filial  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. 


A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT  Verses  40-43 

'  "Now  all  these  hearts  that  do  on  mine  depend, 

Feeling  it  break,  with  bleeding  groans  they  pine ; 

And  supplicant  their  sighs  to  you  extend, 

To  leave  the  battery  that  you  make  'gainst  mine, 

Lending  soft  audjence  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  apace  : 
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  difference  bore,      :^oo 

His  poison'd  me,  and  mine  did  him  restore. 


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,  3  To 

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  j 

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  fly, 

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 


THE   PHCENIX    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,  lo 

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, 

'Mongst  our  mourners  shalt  thou  go.  2o 

Here  the  anthem  doth  commence  : 
Love  and  constancy  is  dead  j 
Phoenix  and  the  turtle  fled 
In  a  mutual  flame  from  hence. 


Verses  7—13       THE  PHCENIX  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  20 

'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  j 

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  phoenix  and  the  dove,  50 

Co-supremes  and  stars  of  love. 

As  chorus  to  their  tragic  scene. 


THE  PHCENIX  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  infirmity,  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. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c. 


Glossary. 


Accorded,  agreed  ;  Comp.  3. 

Acture,  action  ;  Comp.  185. 

Addressed,  prepared,  ready  ;   1606. 

Adjunct,  "  be  adj.,"  follow  as  a  con- 
sequence ;   133. 

Advance,  VSiise;    1705. 

Ad-visedlj/,  deliberately;  180,  1527, 
1816. 

Affectioti' s ,  passion's  ;  500. 

yi//o-zf,  approve  ;   1845. 

All-too-timeless,  altogether  unseason- 
able ;  44. 

Aloes,  bitterness;  Comp.  273. 

Anatomizd,  laid  open,  shown  dis- 
tinctly; 1450. 

Annexions,  additions;  Comp.  208. 

Antics,   fantastic    shapes   (Quartos, 

"  antiques  ")  ;   459" 

yi^/'a/i/,  satisfied  ;   914. 

^/-a'fa,  capital  of  the  Rutuli,  twenty- 
four  miles  south  of  Rome  ;  i . 

Arrive,  reach  ;   781. 

As,  that  ;   1372. 

Askance,  turn  aside  ;  637. 

Assay,  essay,  try;  Comp.  156. 

yi^j/jy/,  attempts  ;   1720. 

Astonish'd,  astounded  ;    1 730. 

Balk,  disregard,  neglect;  696. 

Ban,  curse  ;   1460. 

Bare,  bareness;  Comp.  95. 

Barns,  stores  up  ;   859. 

Bat,  staff;  Comp.  64. 

Bateless,  not  to  be  blunted  ;  9. 

Beguird,  rendered  guileful  ;   1544. 

i/«'/i/<iOT,  grandmother ;  953 

Beseems,  becomes;  277. 

Beivrayd,  ey.^osedL;    1698. 

Blasts,  is  blasted  ;  49. 

Blazon  d,  interpreted;  Comp.  217. 


Blend,  blended;  Comp.  215. 

Blood,  passion  ;  Comp.  162. 

Blossoms,  flower  of  the  young  no- 
bility ;  Comp.  235. 

Blunt,  rude,  rough  ;   1504. 

.Go//'«,  swollen  ;   1417. 

Bond,  claim  given  by  a  bond, 
ownership;   136. 

Braving,  challenging  ;  40. 

Bulk,  chest ;  467. 

Burdenivise,  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  Capitoline  Hill.) 


Careless;    "  c.    hand   of  pride,"  i.e. 
hand    of  careless   pride;    Comp. 

3°- 
C(7ii',  dress  ;   Comp.  116. 

Ca«/f/j,  deceits  ;   Comp.  303. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c. 


Glossary 


C/iamf)jit;n,  open  country  ;   1247.  1 

C/iu/>s,   Wrinkles     (early     yuartos, 

"chops");   1451.  I 

Charactcrt,  figures;    Comp.   16. 
Cheer,  face,  look  ;   264. 
Cherubin,  chcxwh  \   Comp.   319. 
C//>Airr,  decipher  ;   811. 
Civil,  decorous;   Comp.  298. 
Cleft,  double,  two-fold  ;  Comp.  293. 
Coa/,  coat-of-arms  ;  205. 
Cockatrice,  basilisk  ;    540. 
Colour,  pretext  ;  267. 
Comfortable,  comforting  ;    1 64 
Commenils,  commits;   436. 
Compare,  comparison  ;  40. 
Complain  J,  hti-wzWuA;    1839. 
Co/iiTf//,  conception  ;   701,  1298. 
Co/iw/fc/,  imaginative;   1371- 
Conclusion,  experiment ;   1 160. 
Conduct,  that  which  guides  ;   313. 
Confound,  ruin  ;   1202. 
Congest,  gather  in  one;  Comp.  258. 
Contrives,    devises   (?    wears    away, 

spends);  Comp.  243. 
Controlled,  restrained;  448. 
Convertite,  convert,  penitent ;  743. 
Cop'd,  encountered,  met;  99. 
Copesmate,  compvinion;   925. 
Coucheth,  causes  to  cower;   507. 
Counterfeit,  \m2ige;    1 269. 
Credent,  credulous;   Comp.  279. 
Crest-ivounding,  staining  the  family 

crest  ;  828. 
Cries,  cries  for;  Comp.  42. 
Curious,  careful  ;  Comp.  49. 

Daf'd,  doffed,  put  off  ;  Comp.  297. 

Dash,  mark  of  infamy  ;  206. 

Deat/isman,  executioner ;   looi. 

Defunctive,  funereal;   Ph.  14. 

i)£/>r;''i;<-,  take  away  ;   1186. 

Descant' st,  singest  ;    1 1 34. 

Diapason,  deep  notes  harmoniously 
accompanying  high  ones  ;    1132. 

Digression,  transgression  ;  202. 

Dismount,  lower  ("alluding  to  the 
old  English  fife-arms,  which  were 
supported  on  what  was  called  a 
rest,"  Malone);    Comp.  281. 


Dispense  tvith,  excuse;    IO70. 
Distract,  disjoined;  Comp.  231. 
Done,  ended  ;   23. 

,  past,  lost;  Comp.  11. 

Z)<«B/)i,  mournful  lays  ;   1127. 

Ecstasy,  excitement ;  Comp.  69. 
Effects,       outward       manifestations 

(?  efficacies)  ;   1555. 
Element,  sky  ;    15X8. 
Enpatron,  "  e.  me,"  are  my   patron 

saint ;  Comp.  224. 
Ensue,  follow  ;  502. 
Exclaiming  on,  crying   out   against  ; 

741. 
Extindure,  extinction  ;  Comp.  294. 

Fact,  deed  (perhaps  criminal  deed)  ; 

349- 
Falcons    bell,    511.      A    specimen    ot 

such  a  bell, bearing  the  nobliman- 

owner's  arms,  is  here  reproduced 

from  an  engraving  by  Fairholt. 


Falls,  lets  fall;   1551. 

Fanc\js,  love's  ;    200. 

Fear,  the  object  of  his  leaf  ;   30S. 

Feast-finding,    attending     banquets; 

817. 
Feat,    featly,    dexterously;    Comp. 

48. 
Fence,  defend;  63. 
/■/'<•/</ (perhaps  with  a  play  upon  its 

heraldic  use)  ;  72. 
Fiery-pointed,  "  throwing  darts  with 

points  of  fire"  (Steevens,  '•  fre- 

y-pointed")  ;    372. 


Glossary 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c. 


Fine,  bring   to   an   end    (?)    refine, 

soften  ;   936. 
Fluxi-ve,  flowing,  weeping  ;  Comp. 

50. 
Foil,   setting,   background ;    Comp. 

153- 
i^o//y,  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  ivhy,  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"  ;   1 144. 
Fuljill'd,  filled  full;    1258. 

Gage,  stake ;   144. 

Gaze;     "at    g.,"    staring    about; 

1 149. 
Gentry,  gentle  birth  ;  569. 
Got;fr«OTf«/,  self-control ;   1400. 
Graff,  graft ;   1062. 
Grained,    of     rough    wood  ;     Comp. 

64. 
Grave,  engrave;  755. 
Gryii- J,  griffins  ;  543. 

Hwvings,  accomplishments;   Comp. 

235- 
Heartless,    bereft    of    all    courage  ; 

471. 
Helpless,  unavailing  ;   1027. 
Hild,    held    (rhyming    with    '■'■Jul- 

fiiiyy,  1257. 

His,  its  ;   303. 

Hive,  a  kind  of  bonnet,  resembling 
a  hive  ;  Comp.  8. 

///,  wickedness  ;   304. 
/OTo^/^izr^,  imaginative  ;   1422. 
Immured,    shut     up    in    a    cloister 

(Quarto,  "  fwz/rf,"  rhyming  with 

^^ procure")-,   Comp.  251. 


Impleach\i,  entwin'd  ;  "  hair  with 
twisted  metal  amorously  im- 
pleach'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  de- 
scendants of  the  Earl  of  Huntly, 
to  whom  she  gave  it.) 


Instance;    "guilty  i.,"  i.e.    "token 

of  guilt  "  ;    15  1 1. 
//jto/tZ/wg-,  pretending  ;   121. 
Intituled,  having  a  claim  ;  57. 
7«/rm/(?,  invade,  enter  ;   848. 
Invis^d,  invisible  (?  inspected,  tried); 

Comp.  212. 

Ken,  sight  ;    11 14. 
Kind,  natural  ;   1423. 
Kinds,  n'Sitnrss;   1242. 

Late,  lately  ;    180 1. 

Laundering,  ■walVing  ;   Comp.   17. 

Laivn,  fine  linen  ;  258. 

Lectures,  lessons  ;   61 8. 

Leisures,     leisure     hours  ;      Comp. 

193- 
Let,  forbear ;    10. 

,  hinder  ;   328. 

LeveWd  (technical  term  for  aiming 

a  gun  J ;  Comp.  22. 
Like  ivory  conduits  coral  cisterns  filling ; 

1234.     The  simile  is  illustrated  by 

the  annexed  engraving  from  the 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c. 


Glossary 


XlVth  century  Lancelot  romance, 
presarved  in  the  National  Library 
at  Paris. 


Limed,  ensnared  by  bird-lime;   88. 
Linen,  linen  kerciiief  ;   680. 
Zkj^  pleasure ;   1384. 
Lust-breathed,  animated  by  lust  ;  3. 
Luxury,  lust;   Comp.  314. 

Map,  picture,  image  ;  402. 
Margents,  margins  ;   102. 
Maund,  hand-basket ;   Conip.  36. 
Muze  ;    1151.      The  famous  Cretan 
labyrinth  was  often  depicted  on 


Mermaid,  si  ren  ;    1411. 

Moe,  more  ;   1479. 

Moity,  portion  ;  Dcdic.  to  Luc. 

Moralize,  interpret  ;    104. 

Mortalitij;  "life's  m.,"  i.e.  "  mortal, 

human  life  ";  403. 
Mot,  motto ;  830. 

JVary!>i;n,  handkerchief;   Comp.   15. 
iVffi//;  (monosyllabic)  ;    319. 
Nice,  skilful  ;    1412. 
Night-iuaLin^,  awake  at  night  ;  554. 
Note,  notoriety;  Comp.  233. 
Nought  to  do,  nothing  to  do  with  ; 
1092. 

On,  "on  ringing,"/.!?.  "  a- ringing  "; 

1494. 
Orchards,  gardens  ;   Comp.   171. 
Orts,  scraps  ;   985. 
Outivards,  external  features  ;  Comp. 

80. 
Oi«rrj«, superintend  ;   1205. 
Overseen,  bewitched  ;    I2o6. 
Oive,  own,  have  ;  82. 
Oxt.'^a',  owned  ;    1803. 

Pack-horse;   928.    (C/.  illustration.) 


gold  pieces,  as  in  the  accompany- 
ing illustration  of  a  coin  of 
Cnossus. 


From  a  terra-cott.i  figure  found  at 
Moulins-sur-Allier,  France. 


Glossary 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c. 


Painted  cloth,  canvas  painted  with 
figures,  mottoes,  or  moral  sen- 
tences, used  for  hangings  for 
rooms;  245.     {Cp   illustration.) 


i.iL(...A-J.''cJ':i'i«a'u"""™ <• 


4i?^r-%  ffi  l^<i|®^ 


This  representation  of  a  meeting  between 
Death  and  a  fop  is  a  copy  of  a  paint- 
ing formerly  preserved  in  the  Hunger- 
ford  Chapel,  Salisbury  Cathedral.  The 
dialogue  between  the  characters  is 
painted  on  the  labels  over  their  heads. 

Faled,  pale  (Quarto,  "palyd"); 
Comp.  198. 

Pa/OTfrj' pilgrims' ;   791. 

Purling,  speaking;   100. 

Peace,  "love's  arms  are  p."  (so 
Quarto,  i.e.  non-resistant,  accept- 
ing all  consequences  ;  Malone, 
^^ proof ,"  etc.)  Comp.  271. 

Peers,  lets  peer,  shows  ;   472. 

Pelleted,  rounded;  Comp.  18. 

Pelt,  throw  out  angry  words;  1418. 

Pensivd,  pensive;   Comp.  219. 

Perplex'd,  bewildered  ;  733. 

Philomel,  the  nightingale;   1079. 

Phanix,  matchless,  rare  ;  Comp.  93. 


Phraseless,      baffling      description ; 

Comp.  225. 
P/<7/«;/;g-,  complaining ;   559. 
Plaits,  folds  ;   93. 
7'/a«j/^/y,  willingly  ;    1854. 
Point^st,  appointest  ;   879. 
Posied,  inscribed  with  posies  ;  Comp 

45,     (C/>.  illustration.) 


From  a  specimen  found  at  Arreton, 
Isle  of  Wight. 

/"r^ci/c/j/,  example :   1261. 

/"rfjfn/,  instant ;    1263. 

Pretended,  intended  ;    576. 

/"r/V^,  dial-point ;  781. 

Prime,  spring;   331. 

Prone,  headlong  ;   684. 

Proof,  experience;  Comp.  163. 

Property,  individuality  ;   Ph.    37. 

Proportion  d,  regular,  orderly  ;   774. 

Purifed,  purged,  rendered  harmless  ; 

532. 
Purl'd,  curled  ;   1407. 

Qualifed,  softened,  abated  ;  424. 
QKi?j/yo«fi/,  conversed  ;   122. 
Qitittal,  requital ;  236. 
Q«o/f,  observe  ;   812. 

Rate,  chide;   304. 

Receipt,  what  has  been  received  ;  703. 

Regard,  thought,  deliberation  ;  1400. 

Relish,  serve  up  as  a  relish  ;    11 26. 

Remembered,  "  be  r. ,"  remember  ;  607. 

Remorseless,  pitiless  ;    562. 

Rents,  rends  ;  Comp.  55. 

Repeal,  recall ;  640. 

Replication,  repartee;   Comp.  122. 

Requiring,  asking ;  Argum  to  Luc. 

Respect,  prudent  consideration  ;  275. 

Retires,  draws  back  ;  303. 

Retiring,  returning  ;  962. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c. 


Glossary 


Rigoly  circle  ;   1745. 

Ruffle,  noise,  brawls;  Comp.  58. 

Saiu,  maxim  ;   244. 

Saivn,  sown  ;   Comp.  91. 

Scapes,  transgressions  ;  747. 

Seated,  situated  ;    1144. 

Securely,  unsuspiciously  ;   89. 

Secit  to,  applies  to  ;   293. 

Seeming;   "  s.    owed,"  i.e.    wliicli  he 

seemed  to  possess  ;  Comp.  327. 
Senseleu,   i.e.    "not    sensible    of  the 

wrong  done  it  "  ;  820. 
Shames,  is  ashamed  ;    1084. 
Shaming,  being  ashamed;    1143. 
SAeav'J,  straw  ;  Comp.  31. 
Shift,  trickery  ;  920. 
Shifting  (?)  cozening  ;   930. 
Sightless,  blind,  dark  ;    1013. 
Silli/,  harmless,  innocent;    167. 
Simoii,  the  river  so  often  referred  to 

by  Homer;    1437. 
Slanderous,  disgraceful  ;  looi. 
Sletded,  untwisted  ;  Comp.  48. 
Smoothing,  flattering  ;  892. 
Sneaped,  nipped,  frost-bitten  ;    333. 
Sort,  sort  out,  select;   899. 
Sorts,  adapts  ;   1221. 
Springs,  young  shoots  ;   950. 
Stcll'd,  placed,  fixed;   1444. 
Still-pining,  ever-longing;   858. 
Stiil-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  f  by  them)  ;  377. 
Surcease,  cease;    1766. 
Surmise,  reflection,  thought  ;    83. 
Siviftest,  "  the  s.   hour,"  the  prime 

of  life  ;  Comp.  60. 
S-wounds,  swoons  ;    i486. 

Talents,  lockets  made  ot  hair,  plaited 
and  set  in  gold  ;  Comp.  204.  Cp. 
8.V.  impleach'd. 

13,  « 


Teen,  pain;   Comp.  192. 
Temperance,  chastity  ;    884. 

TVWrr,  favour ;  534. 

Termlesi,  indescribable;   Comp.  94. 

Than  (rhyming  with  "  began"),  then; 

1440. 
That,  so  that  ;   177. 
Thi.t,  fast  ;    1 784. 
7",4//ii  (?J  =  methinks  ;   Comp.  91. 
Thorough,      through,      througiiout  : 

1851. 
Threne,  threnody  funeral  song  ;   Ph. 

49- 
To,  in  addition  to  ;    1589. 

Toivering,   flying    high    (a    term    of 

falconry)  ;   506. 
Treble-dated,  living  thrice  as  long  as 

man  ;   Ph.  17. 
Trumpet,  trumpeter;  Ph.  3. 

i/nai/f/jiri/,  inadvertent ;   1488. 
Unapproved, not  approved,  not  proved 

true  ;  Comp.  53. 
Uncouth,  Strange  ;    1598. 
Unhappy,  mischievous,  fatal  :   1565. 
Unrecatling,  not  to  be  recalled  ;  993. 

Vastly,  take  a  waste;   1740. 
/'iV/ax/i,  countryman  ;   1338. 

Want,  "  to  w.,"  i.e.  "  at  missing  "  ; 

389. 
Ward,  bolt  ;    303. 
Watch;  "w.  of  woes,"  i.e.  ■•  divided 

and    marked    only    by     woes"; 

928. 
Water-galls,    secondary     rainbows  ; 

1588. 
^«a',  garment ;   196. 
Where,  whereas  ;    792. 
Winking,  shutting  the  eyes  ;  458. 
Winks,    shuts    the    eyes,    slumbers; 

SS3- 
Wipe,  brand  ;  537. 

^;j//y,  wistfully  :   1355. 

Woodman,  huntsman  ;   580. 

Wot;  "  God  w.,"  i.e.  "God  knows"; 

1345- 
Wrapped,  involved  ;   456. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c. 


Notes. 


LuCRECE  :    8.    'unhappily';   Quartos  i,  2,  3,  '  ■unhap'ly* 

24.    '  mornings  '  ;   Quarto  I  (Bodl.   l),  '  morning.' 

31.    'apologies';    Quarto  I  (Bodl.  l),  '  appoUgie.' 

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  posses- 
sions of  others  ";  the  second  clause  of  line  135  is  in  apposition  to  the  first. 

195.    'let';   Schmidt  conj.  'lest.' 

239-    '"}/>  '/' ;  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  '  i/rf' (rhyming  with  'fret'):  similarly  line 
696,  '  bait ' ;  Quartos,  '  bauk  '  (rhyming  with  '  hatuk'). 

782.    'misty';   Quartos  i,  2,  '  mustie.' 

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  filia  temporis  was  a  favourite  motto 
in  the  sixteenth  century,  as  is  seen  from  the  annexed  engravings  (i)  of 
the  reverse  of  a  silver  groat  issued  by  Queen  Mary,  and  (2  j  of  a  design 
found  in  Whitney's  Emblems  (1586). 

1 1  34.    '  descant' st' ;    (^\X7).rX.o%,  '  descants.' 

1338.    '  court' sies' ;   Quartos,  '  cwrf/Vj'.' 

1662.    '  ivretched' ;  S.  Walker  conj.  '-wreathed.' 

A  Lover's  Complaint  :   12.    'scythed';  Quarto,  '  sithedj' 

37.    'beaded';  Quarto,  '  ^fa^^^/' (?  =  "  imbedded,  set  "). 

39.    '  "weeping  margent ' ;   Malone  conj.  '  margent  -weeping.' 

51.    '  ' gan  to  tear  ' ;   Quarto,  ' gaue  to  teare' ;   GWAon,' ga-ue  a  tear .' 

60.  'observed  as  they  fe-w' ;  the  clause  is  probably  connected  with 
'  hours ';  "  the  reverend  man  had  not  let  the  swift  hours  pass  by  without 
gaining  some  knowledge  of  the  world";  it  is  possible,  however,  that 
'  they'  refers  to  the  torn-up  letters. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  &c. 


Notes 


III.    ^manage';   Quarto,  ^  mannad'g.' 

iiX.  ^  came' \  Sewell's  correction;  Quarto,  -can';  Sewell'ii  ind  ed. 
'  can  for  additions  get  their  purpose  trim.' 

182.    '  Tf 00  ' ;  Quarto,  '  voTf.' 

164.  -  s-weeti  that  seem'  \  Quarto,  '  siveets  that  seemei  ' ;  Capell  MS.  •  sueet 
that  seems.' 

228.    '  Halloiv'd' ;   Quarto,  ••hollo-wed';  Sfwcll's  correction. 

241.  -  playing  the  place' ;  some  error  due  to  the  printer  has  spoilt  the 
line  ;  the  fir.st  word  of  the  line  has  been  caught  up  by  the  compositor's 
eye  from  the  first  of  the  next  line,  or  -vice -versa;  the  most  ingenious  and 
plausible  emendation  is  '^ paling'  for  ' plai/imr.' 

260.  ^  nun' ;    Quarto,  '  iSj/nnf.' 

261.  '</y';  Quarto,  '  /.' 

271.  <■  Love's  arms  are  peace'' ;  SO  Quarto;  Capell  MS.  and  Malone  conj. 
^  proof  for  ^  peace'  a  plausible  change,  if  any  is  necessary  ;  other  readings 
are  : — '  Love  aims  at  peace  ' ;   '  Love  charms  our  peace  ' ;   '  Love  aims  a  piece,'  etc. 

286.  '  ivho  glaz'd  ivilh  crystal  gate'  ;  Malone,  '  W/o,  glaz'd  iiith  crystal, 
gate'  (i.e.gale=^'  the  ancient  perfect  tense  of  the  verb  to  get,"  JJame  being 
its  object). 

308.    '  sivound' ;    Quarto,  '  sound,' cp.  305,  •  sivounding' ;   Quarto  '■sounding.' 


*  Time's  glory  is  to  .       ,   bring  truth  to  light'  (939,  40). 


SHAKE-SPEARES 


SONNETS. 


Neuer  before  Imprinted. 


AT  LONDON 

By  (j.Eld  for  T.  T.  and  arc 

to  be  foldc  by  ^illiAm  \^Uy» 
J  60  p. 


SONNETS 


Preface. 

The  First  Edition.  On  May  20th,  1609,  "a  book  calUd  Sluh,peare, 
Sonnettes"  was  entered  on  the  Stationers'  Register,  and  soon  after  was 
published,  in  quarto,  with  the  following  title-page: — 

"  SHAKE-SPEARES  |  sonnets.  ]  Neuer  before  Imprinted.  |  at  London 
I  By  G.  ELD  for  T.  T.   and  are  |  to  be  solde  by  IV, Ilium  AspUy.  \ 
1609.   I  "*     {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  CXXVi.,  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  various  titles  (with 
the  omission  of  XVIII.,  XIX.,  XLIII.,  LVI.,  LXXV.,  LXXVI.,  XCVI., 
CXXVI.),were  included  in  "POEMS:  written  by  Wu..  SHAKESl^EARE, 
Gent.  Printed  at  London  by  Tho.  Cotes,  and  are  to  be  sold  by  John  Benson, 
dwelling  in  St  Dunstanes  Churchyard  1640." 

It  is  strange  that  there  should  have  been  no  edition  between  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 
intelltct,  but  perfect  eloquence,"  best  explains  the  prevailing  opinion  on 
the  subject  of  the  poems.  Mr  Publisher  "protests  too  much"  against 
the  alleged  obscurity  of  the  Sonnets. f 

*  Some  copios  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  " S/iais/cre  Quarto  Fac- 
similes"  (No.  30). 

The  original  selling  price  of  the  "Sonnets"  was  sd.  A  perfect  copy  would,  probably, 
now  fetch  ^Csoo- 

t  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.'" 

'2  M 


Preface  SONNETS 

One  hundred  years  after  the  appearance  of  the  First  Edition,  the 
Sonnets  were  first  republished,  by  Lintott,  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  printed  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  Sonnet  is  out  of  place,  the  whole  chain  would 
perhaps  be  spoilt,  but  no  such  "  broken  link  "  can  be  adduced.* 

The  Sonnet-Sequence  consists  of  three  main  sections: — A.  Sonnets 
I.-CXXVI.  ;  B.  Sonnets  CXXVII.-CLII. ;  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 
sonneteering,  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  century  after  Christ ; — 

"T^5'  virb  rds  TrXard^'ou?  aira\<^  rerpvuivos  viruij) 

€v5€v"'Epo}S,  vvfjicpais  Xafiirdda  irapd^fiepos. 

Ni^/x0at  5'a\\T]\7i(n,  '  t'l  fieWo/xev  ;  aide  de  roi^ry 

ff^icraafiev,'  etirov,  '  6/j.ov  irvp  KpaSiris  fj-epdiruv. 

Aa/iiras  5'  ojs  ^(^Xe^e  Kal  iidara,  Oep/xbu  eKeWev 

livn<pai  'Epu3Tiddes  Xovrpoxoevffip  vScap. "  t 

The  Drama  of  the  Sonnet.  The  general  theme  of  the  Sonnets 
is  the  poet's  almost  idolatrous  love  for  a  younger  friend,  a  noble  and 
beauteous  youth,  beloved  for  his  own  sweet  sake,  not  for  his  exalted 
rank  ;  this  unselfish,  whole-hearted,  and  soul-absorbing  devotion  passes 
through    various    stages    of    doubt,    distrust,    infidelity,    jealousy,    and 

*  Mr  Rolfe,  in  his  Addenda  to  the  ^'Sonnets"  contrasts  Sonnet  LXX.  with  Sonnets 
XXXIII.-XXXV.  (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  afi'air  as  that  with  the  poet's  mistress  was  not  regarded,  apparently,  as  involving 
serious  moral  blemish."  Anyhow  the  statement  in  the  Sonnet  is  somewhat  too  flatter- 
ing, but  its  position  dare  not  be  disturbed. 

f'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.  Hertzberg,  Jahrbnck  der  Deutschen  Shakespeare- 
Gesellscha/t,  187S).    A  Latin  rendering  is  found  in  Selecta  Epgirammata  ;  Basel,  1529. 


SONNETS  Preface 

estrangement  ;  after  the  period  of  trial,  love  is  again  restored,  stronger 
and  greater  than  before: — 

"  O  benefit  o/ill!  now  I  find  true 
That  better  is  by  ci'il  still  made  better  ; 
And  ruin  d  love,  ivhen  it  is  built  anew, 
Crovts  fairer  than  at  first,  more  strong,  far  greater." 

"Friendship  Triumphant"  is  the  subject  of  the  story  unfolded  in 
Sonnets  I.-CXXVI.  Love  between  man  and  man,  triumphing  over  the 
love  of  man  for  woman,  was  no  uncommon  theme  in  Elizabethan 
literature.     The  denouement  of  The  Two  Gentlemen  rf  Verona  turns  upon 

it,    while    Lyly's    Campaspe   (pub.    1584)   illustrates    the    same    truth: 

Alexander  the  Great  and  Apelles,  the  most  famed  of  Grecian  jiainters, 
were  intimate  friends;  their  friendship  was  wtll-nigh  wrecked  through 
a  woman's  charms ;  the  painter  became  enamoured  of  the  monarch's 
mistress  while  painting  her  likeness,  but  Alexander  generously  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  common  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 
(CXXVII.-CLII.)  concerns  the  "woman  colour'd  ill,"  to  whom  passing 
allusion  is  evidently  made  in  Sonnets  XXX, -XXXV.,  etc  ;  the  poet's 
picture  of  his  Campaspe  needed  a  special  section  for  itself;  he  gives  us  no 
fancy  picture,  but  one  evidently  drawn  from  life  {cp.  CXXVII.-CXLIV., 
etc.). 


Preface  SONNETS 

Noteworthy  Points,  (i)  Although  the  first  one  hundred  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,  unconnected  with  what  goes  before  or  with  what  follows.  Thus 
I. -XXVI.  is  a  series  of  Sonnets  forming,  as  it  were,  a  single  poetical 
epistle  urging  his  friend  to  marry  ;  XXVII. -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  forgive- 
ness;  XLIII.-LV.  express  friendship's  fears  during  separation.  Similarly, 
the  remaining  Sonnets  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  having  been  added  after  the  so-called  Sonnet 
CXXVI.  had  been  written  ;  if  this  were  so,  Shakespeare's  original  inten- 
tion was  to  compose  a  Century  of  Sonnets,  following  the  example  of  the 
poet  Watson,  the  author  of  "  Hekatompathia,  the  Passionate  Century  of  Love." 
{Cp.  Analytical  Chart.) 

(ii)  These  various  poetical  epistles  probably  represent  intervals  of 
time ;  but  there  are  also  more  direct  indications  of  the  time  covered  by 
the  poems  ;  the  most  important  of  these  indications  is  to  be  found  in 
Sonnet  CIV.  (where  a  three  years'  space  is  alluded  to  ;  compare  with  the 
earlier  Sonnets,  e.g.  XXXIII.  "he  -was  but  one  hour  mine").  Time-indica- 
tions are  also  perhaps  to  be  found  in  the  references  to  particular  seasons 
in  some  of  the  Sonnets. 

(iii)  Certain  Sonnets  are  suggestive  of  historical  allusions,  notably 
CVII.  and  CXXIV.,  though  it  may  at  present  be  difficult  to  explain  with 
certainty  the  events  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.,  LXXXI., 
etc.):  he  was  evidently  following  Horace's  excellent  precedent  ("  d'x^g-/ 
monumentum  are  perennius  ")  in  making  his  proud  claim  : — 

"  Not  marble,  nor  the  gilded  monument 

0/ princes.,  shall  outlive  this  powerful  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  sensitiveness,  showing  itself  in  many 
forms,  now  in  his  passionate  devotion,  now  in  his  regard  for  his  reputa- 
tion (CXXI.),  now  in  his  jealous  resentment  of  any  rival  near  the  throne 
of  his  love. 


SONNETS  Preface 

"Who    was  the   rival    poet  ?  Sonnets    LXXIX.  -  LXXXVI. 

obviously  refer  to  some  particular  poet.  Various  solutions  have  been 
advanced.  Marlowe,  Drayton,  Daniel,  have  each  been  put  forward,  but  no 
satisfactory  case  lias  been  made  out  for  any  one  of  tliem.  In  all  probability 
George  Ciiapman  is  the  poet  referred  to  and  characterised.  In  the  dedi- 
cation to  his  poem  called  The  Shado-w  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  pros- 
titutely  show  them  her  secrets,  when  she  will  scarcely  be  looked  upon 
by  Otliers  but  ivith  invocation^  fasting,  "watching;  yea,  not  ivithout  having  drops 
of  their  souls  like  a  heavenli/  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  en- 
thusiasm, ever  eager  in  magnifying  poetry,  and  advancing  fervent  claims 
to  supernatural  inspiration." 

"  The  proud  full  sail  of  his  great  -verse  "  recalls  Keats's  famous  sonnet,  "  On 
first  looking  into  Chapman  s  Homer  "  f  :  — 

"  Then  felt  I  like  some  watcher  o/the  skies 

IVken  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken  ; 
Or  like  stout  Cortez  when  ivilh  eagle  eyes 

He  star'd  at  the  Pacific — and  all  his  men 
Looked  at  each  other  ivith  a  wild  surmise — 

Silent,  upon  a  peak  in  Darien." 

The  Date  of  Composition,  The  Sonnets  were  first  printed  in 
the  year  1609;  "  7",4<r  Passionate  Pilgrim,"  published  in  1599,  contained 
two  Sonnets  found  in  the  1609  volume  (viz.  CXXXVIII.  and  CXLIV.); 
Francis  Meres  in  his  Palladis  Tamia,  1598,  referred  to  Shakespeare's 
"  sugred  Sonnets  among  his  private  friends,"  and  the  reference  may  be 
to  the  collection,  or  part  of  the  collection,  under  consideration.^  This 
sums  up  the  direct  evidence  we  possess.     Seeing,  however,  that  Shake- 

*  Cp.  Characteristics  of  English  Poets,  pp.  222,  223,  where  the  suggestion  was  first 
made  that  Chapman  was  the  poet  in  question. 

t  Chapman  first  published  seven  books  of  the  Iliad  in  1598. 

tMr  Tyler  {.Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  p.  19)  m.ikes  the  ingenious  suggestion  that 
Sonnet  LV.,  "Not  marble,  nor  tlu  gilded  monuments:'  etc.,  and  more  especially  the 
line,  "  Not  Mars  his  sword,  nor  war's  quick  fire  shall  bum,"  was  suggested  by  Meres' 
reference  to  Shakespeare,  etc.  ;  the  suggestion  is  certainly  note- worthy  :— 

"  As  Ovid  saith  of  his  worke  : — 

'Jamque  opus  exegi,  quod  nee  Jovis  ira,  nee  ignis. 
Nee poterit  ferrum,  nee  cdax  abolere  vetusias:' 

And  as  Horace  saith  of  his, — 

'Exegi  monumentum  cure perennius',  etc. 


Preface  SONNETS 

speare,  in  1593,  styled  his  Venus  and  Adonis  "  the  first  heir  of  my 
invention,"  and  that  the  poem  on  the  Rape  of  Lucrece  appeared  the  follow- 
ing 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  "  Homeo  and  Juliet"  and  Sonnet 
CXVI.,  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  suggestive  of  plays 
of  a  somewhat  later  period  (e.g.  Sonnets  LXVI.-LXXIV.  recall  Hamiet 
and  measure  for  Measure)  :  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  belong  to  about 
1595.  If  Sonnet  CIV.  were  taken  strictly,  the  period  covered  would  be 
(circa)  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  cannot  be  sure ;  too  often,  perhaps,  we  merely 

force  the  lock.f 

. . i 

So  say  I  severally  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney's,  Spencer's,  Daniel's,  Drayton's,  Shakespeare's, 
and  Warner's  workes  : — 

'  Non  Jovts  ira,  imbres,  Mars,ferrunt.,flamma,  scncctus, 
Hoc  opus  unda,  Ives,  turbo,  venena  ruent.' 
Et  quamquam  ad  pulcherrimum  hoc  opus  evertendum  tres  illi  Dii  conspirabunt, 
cronus,  Volcanus,  et  pater  ipse  gentis : — 

"■  Non  tatnen  annorum  series,  nonjlamnia,  nee  ensis, 
jEtet~nu}n  potuit  hoc  abolere  dieus.'  " 
*  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  books  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  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  person."  (A  summary  of  the  various  theories 
will  be  found  in  Prof.  Dowden's  edition  of  the  Sonnets,  1881.) 


SONNETS  Preface 

To  -whom  were  the  Sonnets  addressed  ?  The  world  of 
scholars  may  be  said  to  be  divided  into  Herbertists  and  Southamptonitcs; 
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  ascendant. 
Many  a  former  ally  of  Southampton  has  rallied  round  the  banner  un- 
furled by  Herbert's  redoubtable  chaminon,  Mr  Thomas  Tyler.* 

"William  Herbert's  Clalnns.  William  Herbert  was  born  on 
April  8,  1580;  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1598  he  came  to  reside  per- 
manently in  London.  Evidence  exists  that  he  was  averse  to  marriage; 
he  was,  however,  no  misogynist.  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  belonged  to  1600-1. 

The  Herbertists  assign  the  Sonnets  to  the  years  1598-1601  ;  the 
historical  allusions  in  Sonnets  CVII.,  CXXIV.,  are  referred  by  them  to 
the  rebellion  of  Essex  (1601  j;  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  incom- 
parable pair  of  brethren,"  was  dedicated  the  First  Folio  Edition  of 
Shakespeare's  plays  by  Hemiiige  &  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.,  CXXXVI.,  CXLIII., 
afford  conclusive  evidence  that  the  poems  were  addressed  to  "  tVill." 

The  case  against  Herbert.  According  to  the  Herbertists  the 
earliest  date  for  any  of  the  Sonnets  must  be  1598;  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-eminence  as 
a  writer  of  comedies  and  tragedies,  and  instances  six  plays  in  each 
department.     In    Sonnet    XVI.,    however,    which    Herbert's    supporters 

*  "  Shakespeare  s  Sonnets,  edited  by  Thomas  Tyler"  (David  Nutt,  1890)  contains  a 
thorough  investigation  of  William  Herbert's  alleged  connection  with  the  Sonnets, 
together  with  a  full  account  of  Mary  Fitton,  and  an  admirable  commentary  ;  the 
arguments  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. 


Preface  SONNETS 

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  Meres  had  referred  to),  Shakespeare  and 
young  Herbert  had  not  only  become  friends,  not  only  had  their  friend- 
ship ripened,  but  that  the  drama  of  their  friendship  had  developed  to 
the  point  indicated  by  the  two  Sonnets  in  question  ? 

The  first  group  of  Sonnets  (X. -XXVI.)  link  themselves  unmistakeably 
to  the  poems  of  "  Fenus  and  Adonis  "  and  "  Lucrece."  How  do  the  Herbert- 
ists  account  for  Shakespeare's  strange  return  in  1598  to  his  earlier  mood 
and  style? 

The  alleged  references  to  "  WiW^  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,  or  playing  on  ^^  ■will"  and  "•wish"  in 
true  Elizabethan  fashion.* 

There  is,  further,  one  small  point  worthy  of  note.  Shakespeare's 
pique  at  his  friend's  encouragement  of  another  poet  would  hardly  have 
been  justifiable  in  the  case  of  Herbert.  The  poet  Daniel,  who  had  been 
Herbert's  tutor,  and  who  was  far  excellence  the  poet  of  the  Pembroke 
family,  would  have  had  the  first  place  in  his  pupil's  affection.  The 
Sonnets  in  question  certainly  give  the  impression  that  Shakespeare  was 
the  first  to  receive  encouragement  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 
Sonnets  to  Herbert  gives  the  lie  to  Shakespeare's  protestations  of  whole- 
hearted and  exclusive  devotion  to  his  first  patron,  the  Earl  of  South- 
ampton, and  convicts  the  poet  of  time-serving  insincerity.  What,  then, 
becomes  of  his  proud  claim: — "Ho,  Time,  thou  shalt  not  boast  that  I  do 
change  ?  " 

Southampton's  claims.  Henry  Wriothesley  was  born  October 
6,  1573.  His  father  and  brother  both  died  before  he  had  reached  the 
age  of  twelve.     After  taking  his  degree  at  Cambridge,  1589,  he  came  to 

*  In  the  early  comedies  the  quibble  is  often  found,  e.g:  : — 
' '  Silvia]     What 's  your  will  ? 
Proteus]     That  I  Jiiay  compass  yours. 
Silvia]     You  have  your  wish ;  my  will  is  ever  this,  etc." 

Two  Gentlemen,  iv.  ii. 


SONNETS  Preface 

London  and  entered  Gray's  Inn.  He  was  the  ward  of  Lord  Burj^liley, 
and  might  not  inaptly  be  described  as  "  a  child  of  state,"  broujjht  up 
under  the  Queen.  In  1593  yenus  and  Adonis  appeared  with  its  dedication 
to  the  young  Lord  ;  in  1594  Zwtr^cf  was  published  with  its  noteworthy 
declaration  : — "  What  I  have  done  is  yours  ;  ivliat  I  have  to  do  is  yours  ;  being 
part  in  all  I  have,  devoted  yours." 

About  this  time  he  became  recognised  as  the  patron  of  learning  and 
poetry  (f/i.  Gabriel  Harvey's  Letter,  with  Sonnet  to  Southampton  1593; 
Markham's  Sir  R.  Grenville,  1595  ;  Peele's  Angtorum  Feria,  1595  ;  Florio's 
Dictionary,  1596,  etc.).  In  Sept.  1595  Southampton  fell  in  love  with 
Elizabeth  Vernon,  the  Earl  of  Essex's  cousin  ;  his  love  cost  iiim  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  ;  owing,  however,  to  false  reports 
and  misrepresentations,  he  received,  as  his  reward,  blame  instead  of 
praise  from  his  unfriendly  Sovereign;  on  March  17,  1598,  Cecil  in- 
troduced 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 
married  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  commuted  to  perpetual 
imprisonment.  His  subsequent  history  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  beginnings," 
wrote  a  contemporary,  referring  to  the  event,  "  raise  ail  men's  spirits 
and  put  them  in  great  hopes."  There  was  universal  joy;  poets  wel- 
comed him  with  verses ;  notably  Samuel  Daniel,  and  John  Davies  of 
Hereford  ;  the  panegyric  of  the  former  poet  tells  that : — 

"  The  world  had  never  taken  so  full  nott 

O/ixihat  thou  art,  hadst  thou  not  been  undone ; 
And  only  thy  affliction  hath  begot 

More  fame,  than  thy  best  fortunes  could  have  won  "  : 
while   the   latter,    addressing   the   Earl,   sings   of  the    happy  change   in 
men's  affairs : — 

"  T/ien  lets  be  merry  in  our  God  and  King, 
That  made  us  merry,  being  ill  bcstadd : 
Southampton,  up  thy  cap  to  Heaven  fling. 


Preface  SONNETS 

And  on  the  viol  their  sweet  praises  sins; 
For  he  is  come  that  grace  to  all  doth  bringP 

Whatever  may  have  been  men's  feelings  towards  the  hapless  Essex, 
it  is  certain  that  there  was  no  little  affectionate  sympathy  for  one  at 
least  of  the  fool-hardy  rebels,  "  covered  long  ivith  the  ashes  of  great  Essex  his 
ruins."  In  their  very  jubilation  there  was  silent  disapproval  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),  reproached  him  for  his 
silence: — 

"  Nor  doth  the  silver-tongued  Melicert 

Drop  from  his  honied  Muse  one  sable  tear 
To  mo'urn  her  death  that  graced  his  desert 

A  nd  to  his  laies  opened  her  royall  care. 
Shepherd,  remember  our  Elizabeth 
And  sing  her  rape  done  by  that  Tarquin,  Death." 

Mr  Gerald  Massey  *  maintains  that  Sonnet  CVIl.  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-Southamptonist,  the  eclipse  of  " /-4«  mortal  moon"  is  an  allusion  to 
Elizabeth's  death.  The  Herbertists,  emphasising  the  word  ''endured,'' 
rightly  point  out  that  the  moon  is  imagined  as  having  endured  her 
eclipse,  and  come  out  none  the  less  bright,  and  refer  the  Sonnet  to 
Essex's  abortive  attempt.  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  English  supremacy  at 
sea  ;  by  it  all  danger  from  Spain  quietly  passed  away  : — 

"  Incertainties  now  crown  themselves  assur'd. 
And  peace  proclaims  olives  0/ 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  "incertainties"  for  England.  Shakespeare's  Love's 
Labour's  Lost  ^  reflects  the  popular  interest  in  Henry's  affairs  ;  while  T/;^ 
Comedy  of  Errors  {III.  ii.  125-127)  quibblingly  alludes  to  France  "armed 
and  reverted,  mating  -war  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  Secret  Drama  of  Shakespeare' s  Sonnets"  p.  333. 
t  Vide  Preface  to  "  Love's  Labours  Lost." 


SONNETS  Preface 

riiu  whole  y(iiin(.'t  rcails  like  a  protL-statioii  on  Shakc-ipfarc'h  part  ; 
though  his  friend,  "  the  child  of  state,"  has  siilTcred  Fortune's  spite,*  the 
poet's  love,  beinj^  no  child  of  state,  fears  no  policy,  and  knows  no  change; 
it  is  indifferent  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  attractions.  The  poet  resents  the  bare 
thought  that  he  valued  pomp,  grandeur  and  prosperity,  and  was  merely 
a  "  fair-weather  "  friend  f  : — 

"  No  let  me  be  obsequious  in  thy  heart 
And  take  thou  my  oblation,  />oor  but  free. 
Which  is  not  niix'd  with  seconds,  i-niKvs  no  art, 
But  mutual  render,  only  me /or  thee. 

J  fence,  thou  suborn  d  in/omier  !  a  true  soul 
When  most  impeaclCd  stands  least  in  thy  control" 

The  Herbertists  explain  the  poem  as  Sliakespeare's  apology  for  his 
defection  from  Southamjiton,  "  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  patron  of  his  early  poems  :  — 

"  Our  lozie  was  new,  and  then  but  in  the  spring. 
When  I  wcu  wont  to  greet  it  with  my  lays  "  ; 

while  XXVI.  almost  echoes  the  Lucrece  dedication. 

According  to  the  Southamptonites,  Sonnets  C.-CXXVI.+  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  (before 
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,  involving  the  poet's  reputation,  and  to  this  he  refers  in  CX.- 
CXII.  ;  it  is  difficult  to  determine  what  this  trouble  actually  was  ;  the 
Oldcastle-FalstafT affair  (W</c  Henry  IV.  Prt/icc)  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 

*  On  Nov.  22nd,  1598,  Southampton  returned  from  the  Continent;  "for  his  wel- 
come," wc  read,  "  he  is  comniitled  to  the  Fleet." 

\Cp.  Sonnet  XXV. 

t  Perhaps  C.-CXXV.  would  be  better  ;  the  envoi  CXXV  I.  w.as  perhaps  originally  the 
concluding  poem  of  Sonnets  I.-XCIX. 


Preface 


SONNETS 


out  for  the  Herbertists'  view,  which  connects  the  scandal  with  "  the 
quarrel  known  as  tJie  War  of  the  theatres  "  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  enamoured  of  Elizabeth  Vernon,  it  is 
easy  to  understand  the  omission  of  further  reference  to  the  marriage 
theme  in  the  subsequent  Sonnets.* 

Sonnets  XL.,  XLII.,  (and  Section  B.  CXXVII.-CLII.  connected  with 
them)  must,  according  to  the  supporters  of  Southampton's  claim,  be 
referred  to  1595.  In  connection  with  this  early  date  it  is  perhaps 
fair  to  mention  a  curious  publication  of  the  year  1594  entitled  "  Willoblc 
his  Ai)'isa,  or  the  true  Picture  of  a  Modest  maid  and  of  a  Chaste  and  Constant  Lfe, 
which  tells  how  a  young  married  woman  Avice  resists  successively  the 
wooing  of  a  Frenchman,  an  Anglo-German,  and  an  '^  old  player,  W.  S., 
who  not  long  before  tried  the  courtesy  of  the  like  passion";  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  Cut- 
wode's  Caltha  Poetarum.  "  H.  W."  and  "  W.  S.,"  suggestive  of  Henry 
Wriothesley  and  William  Shakespeare  may  of  course  be  purely  accidental, 
but  the  coincidence  is  remarkable,  and  the  evidence,  whatever  its  value, 
cannot  be  suppressed.  It  should  be  added  that  there  are  prefatory  lines 
in  praise  of  Avisa,  wherein  Shakespeare,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in 
literature,  is  referred  to  by  name: — "  And  Shakespeare  paints  foor  Lucrece's 
rape."     Was  this  reference  ironical  ?  * 

The  Publisher's  evidence.  Initials    are  troublesome  ciphers. 

"  H.  W."  and  "  W.  S."  allure  the  readers  of  "  Willobie  his  A-visa  "  ;  while 
"  Mr  W.  H."  of  the  Dedication  prefacing  the  Sonnets  has  afforded  intel- 
lectual exercise  to  generations  of  scholars. 

Had  the  publisher  been  aware  of  the  contentions  of  posterity  as  to  the 
history  of  the  Sonnets,  he  could  not,  in  a  diabolical  mood,  have  invented 
a  more  protean  dedication.      The  Herbertists  naturally   interpret  "  Mr 

*  Mr  Fleay,  however,  holds  that  these  Sonnets  were  written  after  Southampton  had 
met  Elizabeth  Vernon  in  1595  (w/ife  "'Chronicle  History  0/  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). 

t  A  reprint  of  Willobie  is  to  be  found  among  Dr  Grosart's  privately  printed  issues. 
The  particular  Chapter  referred  to  above  is  printed  in  the  ^^Shakespeare  Allusion 
Book."'    (,Neiv  Shak.  Sac.) 


SONNETS  Preface 

W.  H."  as  standing  for  "  Mr  William  Herbert  fEarl  of  I\ml)r<.kc),"  and 
"  begetter  "  as  meaning  "inspirer";  the  Soutliamptonites  suggcit  that 
the  publisher  reversed  the  initials  of  "  Henry  Wriothesley,"  «o  a»  to  half- 
conceal  his  connexion  with  the  facts  referred  to  in  the  Sonnets. 

Others  allege  that  "  begetter  "  is  used  in  the  sense  of'*  obtainer,"  "  pro- 
curer," "  dedicatee,"  and  various  dedicatees  have  been  found  answering 
the  requirements  of  the  initials  in  c|uestion — William  Hughes,  William 
Hathaway,  William  Hart,  William  Hervey  (Southampton's  step-father;, 
and,  actually,  William  Himself  !  "  * 

T.  T.  has  set  the  world  a  conundrum,  which  will  probably  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  Astrophel  and  Stdta,  published  1591  ;  Daniel's  Deliu, 
1592;  Constable's  Z)/a/ia,  1592  ;  Fletcher's  Z/«a,  1593 ;  Barnes' /"arM/no- 
phil,  1593;  Drayton's  Idna,  1594;  Spenser's  Amorctti,  1594;  Lodge's 
Phillis,  1595  ;  Chapman's  Coronet  for  his  Mistress  Philosophy,  1595.  It 
would  certainly  seem  that  the  writing  of  Love-Sonnets  culminated  in 
i594"S't  -As  far  as  the  form  of  his  Sonnets  is  concerned,  Shakespeare 
seems  to  have  been  influenced  by  contemporary  sonneteers,  and  perhaps 

•  George  Wither  seems  to  have  anticipated  this  stupendous  discovery,  due  to  Ger- 
manic genius,  when  he  inscribed  his  satires  thus  :— "  C  IV.  Wishcth  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 
yowT  mcTiU  I  dare  not  change  your  title.  .  .  .  When  I  made  them  I  had  nothing  in 
my  conscience  to  expressing  of  which  I  did  need  a  ciplur.'^ 

t  Mr  Massey  in  his  ^'Secret  Drama  0/  Shakespeare's  Sonnets"  points  out  some 
striking  reminiscences  of  Sidney's  Astrophel  and  Stella  (as  well  as  of  the  Arcadia), 
more  especially  with  reference  to  a  number  of  the  earliest  sonnets. 

Shakespeare's  Sonnets  and  the  1599  revised  edition  of  Drayton's  Idea  contain  some 
remarkable  parallel  passages;  it  seems  most  likely  that  Drayton  w.is  the  borrower. 
Mr  Tyler  cannot  detect  any  allusion  in  Drayton's  work  to  Sonnets  C.-CXXVI.  The 
following  specimen  of  Drayton  will  best  illustrate  his  debt : — 

"  Att  evil  spirit  your  beauty  haunts  me  still. 
Wherewith,  alas,  I  have  been  long  possest, 
Which  ceaseth  not  to  tempt  me  vnto  ill. 
Nor  gives  me  once  but  one  pore  minutes  rest 

Thus  am  I  still pro7'ok'd  to  every  evil 

By  this  good  wicked  spirit,  sweet  Angel-devil.'" 

Marston's  Pigmalioris  Image  and  Certaine  Satyres,  published  in  1598,  contains  a 


Preface       *  SONNETS 

more  especially  by  Daniel,  in  abandoning  the  Petrarchan  type,  and 
building  up  his  sonnet  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  arrange- 
ments in  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  sufficiently 
near  to  shed  its  influence  over  the  poem  back  to  the  initial  verse." 

Enthusiasts  for  the  Miltonic  Sonnet,  with  its  "  observance  of  strict 
laws  of  composition,"  condemn  Shakespeare's  deviation  from  the  stricter 
type,  and  declare  that  "  the  so-called  Sonnets"  are  not  sonnets  at  all,  but 
a  continuous  poem,  or  poems,  written  in  fourteen-line  stanzas  :  but  from 
the  experimental  days  of  Surrey  and  Wyatt  the  form  employed  by 
Shakespeare  had  been  the  favourite  sonnet-type  of  English  poets.  It 
were  easy  to  combat  Mark  Pattison's  bold  pronouncement,  that  "the 
example  of  Shakespeare,  and  the  veneration  due  to  that  mighty  name, 
has  exercised  a  misleading  influence  on  our  sonnetists."  Milton's  ex- 
altation implies  no  rivalry  with  Shakespeare — theirs  are  "  two  glory- 
smitten  summits  of  the  poetic  mountain." 

"  The  tongue  of  England,  that  luhich  myriads 
Ha-ue  spoken  and  ivill  speak,  ivere  paralyzed 
Hereafter,  but  tivo  mighty  men  stand  forth 
Above  the  fight  of  ages,  tzuo  alone  ; 
One  crying  out, 

HII  nations  spoftc  tbro'  me. 

The  ether  : 

Uruc ;  an^  tbro'  this  trumpet  burst 
©oil's  wor^  ;  tbe  fall  of  Hngela,  an6  tbc  ^oom 
jFirst  of  tmniovtal,  tbcn  of  mortal,  man ; 
©lor^  !  be  glor^!  not  to  me,  to  006." 

passage  strongly  resembling  Sonnet  XXXII.,  lines  10-14,  and  more  especially  th» 
words  "  To  march  in  ranks  0/ better  equipage;''^  Marston's  lines  speak  of — 

"  Stanzaes  like  odd  bands 
0/ voluntaries  and  mercenarians : 
Which  like  soldados  of  our  -warlike  age, 
March  rich  bedight  in  ivarlike  equipage," 

I  cannot  agree  with  Mr  Tyler  that  it  may  be  maintained,  with  confidence,  that 
Marston's  poem  preceded  Shakespeare's. 


SONNETS 


ANALYSIS  OF   "THE  SONNETS." 


"THE   BETTER  ANGEL" 

I.  LOVE'S  ADORATION  :  i.xxv 


i.-cxxn. 


f 


in  the  beloved's  children  fi.-xvi.) 


Beauty    and    goodness  h     ^,^^  p^^^,^  ^^^^^  ^^^;j^^^^ 


must  live  on 


I 


Envoy  (xxvl.) 


Interval. 


(a)  The  bitterness  of 
absence  (xxvii.- 
xxxii.) 


(i)  Love's  first  disillu 
sioning  (xxxiii. 
xlii.) 


(c)  Love's  longings  and 
prophetic     fears< 
(xliii.-lv.) 


II.  LOVES  TRIALS  :  xjrvii.-xcix. 

^The  sense  of  loss  (xxvii.,  xxviii.) 

(The    poet's    outcast    state  Love  in 
(xxix.)  Absence. 

Bereavements  (xxx.) 
Love  dispels  the  gloom  :  xxix.-xxxi. ) 

Envoy  f  X  X  X  i  i . ) 

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  i^xlii.; 
Forgiveness. 

(?)  Envoy  (xlii.) 

Interval. 
^Love-longing  (xliii.-xlvii.) 
Fears  (xlviii.) 
.Self-abasement  fxlix.) 
The  journey  from,  contrasted  with  journey  to, 

his  friend  (1.,  li.) 
Tlie  pleasures  of  hope  (lii.) 
The  pleasures  of  imagination  (liii.) 
Love's  assurance  (liv.) 

Envoy  (Iv.) 


Analysis 


SONNETS 


Love  in 
Absence. 


(</)  Love's  growing  dis- 
trust and  mel- 
ancholy (Ivi.- 
Ixxv.) 


(0 


(/) 


Interval. 

/Love  must  watch  and  wait  and  believe  (Ivi.- 

Iviii.) 
Despite  ancient  doctrines  (lix.-  Ix.) 
Nevertheless  distrustful  thoughts  arise  (Ixi.) 
Introspection  and  self-accusation  (Ixii.-lxiii.) 
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  always  transfigure 
I  vice  (xcv.) 

\  Envoy  (xcvi.) 

Interval. 

Love's      farewell  /"Absence  in  Summer  and  Autumn  (xcvii.) 
tribute     (xcvii.--!  Absence  in  Spring  (xcviii.) 
xcix.)  \  Envoy  (xcix.) 


Love's      jealousy 
(Ixxv.-xcvi.) 


SONNETS  Analysis 

Interval  of  a  ytar  or  ttuo. 
in.   LOVF.S  TRIUMPH     .    .  ».vi 

The  re-awakening  (c.  ;  'I'he  poetV  silence  (cii.-ciii.) 

Time    cannot    change    the    beloved  The  poet's  eulogies  (cv.) 

(civ.) 

Chivalrous  poetry  prophetic  of  his  Love  survives  ill-forebodings  Ccvii.) 

friend  (cvi.) 

Love  finds  new  conceits  (cviii.)  The  poet's  confessions  rcix.-cxi.) 

Love  and  pity  (cxii.)  Love's  imaginings  (cxiii.,  cxiv.) 

Love  grows  stronger  through  error  Love  superior  to  dangers  and  trials 

(cxv.)  (cxvi.^ 

Error  tests  friendship  (cxvii.-cxix.)  Still  apologetic  (cxx.-cxxii.) 

The  poet  rebuts  malicious  charges  Love  conquers  Time  fcxxiii.) 

(cxxi.) 

The  poet's  love  no*  "  the  child  of  The  poet    resents   the    calumny    of 
state"  (cxxiv.)  being  a  time-server  (cxxv.) 

Envoy  (c\%s\.  , 

B— "THE  WORSER  SPIRIT":  cxxvii.-clii. 
(Cp.  xxxiii.-xlii.) 

C.— "LOVE'S  FIRE":  cliii.-cliv. 


'=  M* 


••  With  this  key 
Shakespeare  unlocked  his  heart." 

Wordsworth. 

"  '  IVith  this  same  key 
Shakespeare  unlocked  his  heart '  once  more  ! 
Did  Shakespeare?     If  so,  the  less  Shakespeare  he  I  " 

Browning. 

"  No  whit  the  less  like  Shakespeare,  but  undoubtedly 
the  less  like  Browning." 

Swinburne. 

"  If  any  should  be  curious  to  discover 
Whether  to  you  I  am  a  friend  or  lover, 
Let  him  read  Shakespeare's  sonnets,  taking  thence 
A  whetstone  for  their  dull  intelligence 
That  tears  and  will  not  cut." 

Shelley. 

"  I  loved  thee,  Spirit,  and  love,  nor  can 
The  soul  of  Shakespeare  love  thee  more." 

Tennyson. 


SONNETS 


TO  .  THE  .  ONLIE  .  BEGETTER  .  OF 

THESE  .  INSVING  .  SONNETS  . 

M"".  W.  H.  ALL  .   HAPPINESSE  . 

AND  .  THAT  .  ETERNITIE  . 

PROMISED  . 

BY  . 

OVR  .  EVER-LIVING  .  POET  . 

WISHETH  . 

THE  .  WELL-WISHING  . 

ADVENTVRER  .  IN  . 

SETTING  . 

FORTH  . 


T.  T. 


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  light'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,  10 

Within  thine  own  bud  buriest  thy  content 
And,  tender  churl,  makest  waste  in  niggardiog. 
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. 

Will  be  a  tatter'd  weed,  of  small  worth  held : 

Then  being  ask'd  where  all  thy  beauty  lies,  C 

Where  all  the  treasure  of  thy  lusty  days. 

To  say,  within  thine  own  deep-sunken  eyes, 

Were  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  10 

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. 


III.  and  IV.  SONNETS 

III 

Look  in  thy  glass,  and  tell  the  face  thou  viewest 
Now  is  the  time  that  face  should  form  another  j 
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  :  lo 

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  traffic  with  thyself  alone, 

Thou  of  thyself  thy  sweet  self  dost  deceive.  lo 

Then  how,  when  nature  calls  thee  to  be  gone, 

What  acceptable  audit  canst  thou  leave  ? 

Thy  unused  beauty  must  be  tomb'd  with  thee. 

Which,  used,  lives  th'  executor  to  be. 


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,  lo 

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  hves  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. 


VII.  and  VIII.  SONNETS 

VII 

Lo,  in  the  orient  when  the  gracious  light 

Lifts  up  his  burning  head,  each  under  eye 

Doth  homage  to  his  new-appearing  sight, 

Serving  with  looks  his  sacred  majesty ; 

And  having  climb'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,  lO 

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 ;  lo 

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  f 

Ah  !   if  thou  issueless  shalr  hap  to  die, 

The  world  will  wail  thee,  like  a  makelcss  wife  •, 

The  world  will  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  world  enjoys  it ;  To 

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 

Who  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  ?  lo 

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. 


XL  and  XII.  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  :  lo 

Look,  whom  she  best  endow'd  she  gave  the  more ; 
Which  bounteous  gift  thou  shouldst  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  j 

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,  lo 

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. 


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  yourselfs  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  wind. 
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,  lo 

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. 


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 
Whereon  the  stars  in  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,  10 

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 

Make  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, 

With  virtuous  wish  would  bear  your  living  flowers 

Much  liker  than  your  painted  counterfeit : 

So  should  the  lines  of  life  that  life  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  you  must  live,  drawn  by  your  own  sweet  skill. 


SONNETS  XVII.  and  XVIII. 

XVII 

Who  will  believe  my  verse  in  time  to  come, 

If  it  were  fill'd  with  your  most  high  deserts  ? 

Though  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, 

Nor  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. 


I 


XIX.  and  XX.  SONNETS 

XIX 

Devouring  Time,  blunt  thou  the  lion's  paws, 

And  make  the  earth  devour  her  own  sweet  brood  j 

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  j  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. 

Which  steals  men's  eyes  and  women's  souls  amazeth. 

And  for  a  woman  wert  thou  first  created  j 

Till  Nature,  as  she  wrought  thee,  fell  a-doting,  lo 

And  by  addition  me  of  thee  defeated. 

By  adding  one  thing  to  my  purpose  nothing. 

But  since  she  prick'd  thee  out  for  women's  pleasure, 
Mine  be  thy  love,  and  thy  love's  use  their  treasure. 


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  firsc-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  believe  me,  my  love  is  as  fair  lo 

As  any  mother's  child,  though  not  so  bright 

As  those  gold  candles  fix'd  in  heaven's  air : 

Let  them  say  more  that  like  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  j  lO 

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  agaia 


XXIII.  and  XXIV.  SONNETS 

XXIII  1 

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  5 

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 ;  lo 

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  j 

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  windows  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. 


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,  lO 

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,  lO 

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. 


XXVII.  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  bhnd  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  either's  reign,  5 

Do  in  consent  shake  hands  to  torture  me  j 

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 :      lo 

So  flatter  I  the  swart-complexion'd  night ; 

When  sparkling  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. 


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. 


XXXI.  and  XXXII.  SONNETS 

XXXI 

Thy  bosom  Is  endeared  with  all  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  stol'n  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. 

XXXII 

If  thou  survive  my  well-contented  day, 

When  that  churl  Death  my  bones  with  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  love  had  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.' 


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 

With  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  ;  lo 

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 .'' 
I'Tis  not  enough  that  through  the  cloud  thou  break, 
[To  dry  the  rain  on  my  storm-beaten  face, 
'or  no  man  well  of  such  a  salve  can  speak 
'hat  heals  the  wound  and  cures  not  the  disgrace  : 
lor  can  thy  shame  give  physic  to  my  grief; 
'hough  thou  repent,  yet  I  have  still  the  loss : 
'he  offender's  sorrow  lends  but  weak  relief 
'o  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. 


10 


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 —  lo 

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. 


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  10 

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  excellent 

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. 


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. 

0  absence,  what  a  torment  wouldst  thou  prove. 

Were  it  not  thy  sour  leisure  gave  sweet  leave  lo 

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 

1  cannot  blame  thee  for  my  love  thou  usest ; 
But  yet  be  blamed,  if  thou  thyself  deceives! 
By  wilful  taste  of  what  thyself  refusest. 

I  do  forgive  thy  robbery,  gentle  thief, 

Although  thou  steal  thee  all  my  poverty ;  lO 

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. 


SONNETS 


XLI.  and  XLII. 


XLI 


Those  pretty  wrongs  that  liberty  commits, 
When  I  am  sometime  absent  from  thy  heart, 
Thy  beauty  and  thy  years  full  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  beauty  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. 


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,  lo 

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. 


SONNETS  XLV.  and  XLVI. 

XLV 

The  other  two,  slight  air  and  purging  fire, 

Are  both  with  thee,  wherever  I  abide  j 

The  first  my  thought,  the  other  my  desire. 

These  present-absent  with  swift  motion  slide. 

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. 


I 


XLVII.  and  XLVIII.  SONNETS 

XLVII 

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  C' 

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  j  lo 

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,  c 

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,  lo 

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. 


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,  lo 

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  ;  lo 

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. 


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,  lo 

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,  lo 

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. 


SONNETS  LIII.  and  LIV. 

LIII 

What  is  your  substance,  whereof  are  you  made, 

That  millions  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,  lo 

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 ;  lo 

Die  to  themselves.     Sweet  roses  do  not  so  j 

Of  their  sweet  deaths  are  sweetest  odours  made : 
And  so  of  you,  beauteous  and  lovely  youth, 
"When  that  shall  vade,  by  verse  distills  your  truth. 


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  S 

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      lo 

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  lo 

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. 


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  of  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,  like  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  or  well. 


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  was  done. 

That  I  might  see  what  the  old  world  could  say 

To  this  composed  wonder  of  your  frame ;  lo 

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  echpses  '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,  lo 

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. 


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  j 

And  for  this  sin  there  is  no  remedy. 

It  is  so  grounded  inward  in  my  heart. 

Methinks  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. 


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,  lo 

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;  lo 

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. 


SONNETS  LXV.  and  LXVI. 

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. 


LXVII.  and  LXVIII.  SONNETS 

LXVII 

Ah,  wherefore  with  infection  should  he  live 

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  ?         lo 

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. 


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  ;  lo 

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  j 

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  ;  lo 

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. 


LXXI.  and  LXXII.  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  1  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,  ^ 

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,  lO 

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. 


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,  10 

As  the  death-bed  whereon  it  must  expire. 

Consumed  with  that  which  it  was  nourish'd  by. 

This  thou  perceivest,whichmakes  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  coward  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. 


LXXV.  and  LXXVI.  SONNETS 

LXXV 

So  are  you  to  my  thoughts  as  food  to  life, 

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 ;  lo 

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. 


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  this  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  :  lo 

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. 


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 ;  lo 

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. 


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 ;  lo 

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,  lo 

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. 


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 ;  lo 

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. 


SONNETS  LXXXV.  and  LXXXVI. 

LXXXV 

My  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  compeers  by  night 

Giving  him  aid,  my  verse  astonished. 

He,  nor  that  affable  familiar  ghost 

Which  nightly  gulls  him  with  intelligence,  lo 

As  victors,  of  my  silence  cannot  boast ; 

I  was  not  sick  of  any  fear  from  thence  : 

But  when  your  countenance  fiU'd  up  his  line, 
Then  lack'd  I  matter ;  that  enfeebled  mine. 


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,  10 

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. 


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  '11  myself  disgrace  ;  knowing  thy  will, 

I  will  acquaintance  strangle  and  look  strange  j 

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. 


XCI.  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. 

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  away  and  me  most  wretched  make. 

XCII 

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  with  inconstant  mind. 

Since  that  my  life  on  thy  revolt  doth  lie.  10 

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. 


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  j  lo 

Whate'er  thy  thoughts  or  thy  heart's  workings  be, 
Thy  looks  should  nothing  thence  but  sweetness  tell. 
How  like  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. 

"a 


XCV.  andXCVI.  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  j 

Naming  thy  name  blesses  an  ill  report. 

O,  what  a  mansion  have  those  vices  got 

Which  for  their  habitation  chose  out  thee,  10 

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  makes t  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  !  \0 

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. 


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  lily's  white, 

Nor  praise  the  deep  vermilion  in  the  rose  ;  lo 

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. 


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.  $ 

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,  lo 

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 

C 

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  life ; 

So  thou  prevent'st  his  scythe  and  crooked  knife. 


SONNETS  CI.  and  CII. 

CI 

0  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  lies  in  thee  lo 

To  make  him  much  outlive  a  gilded  tomb 

And  to  be  praised  of  ages  yet  to  be. 

Then  do  thy  office,  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; 

1  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,        lo 
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. 


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  before  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. 


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 ;  TO 
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. 


evil,  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,  lo 

Since,  spite  of  him,  I'll  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  thy  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,  lo 

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. 


SONNETS  CIX.  and  CX. 

CIX 

O,  never  say  that  I  was  false  of  heart, 

Though  absence  seem'd  my  flame  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,  c 

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  c 

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,  have  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. 


CXI.  and  CXII.  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  eisei  'gainst  my  strong  infection ;  lO 

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. 


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,  10 

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 :  lo 

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. 


CXV.  and  CXVI.  SONNETS 

CXV 

Those  lines  that  I  before  have  writ  do  lie, 
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  sharp'st  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,'  lo 

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  ;  lo 

Love  alters  not  with  his  brief  hours  and  weeks. 

But  bears  it  out  even  to  the  edge  of  doom. 

If  this  be  error  and  upon  me  proved, 

I  never  writ,  nor  no  man  ever  loved. 


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  ;  lo 

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  j 
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. 


CXIX.  and  CXX.  SONNETS 

CXIX 

What  potions  have  I  drunk  of  Siren  tears, 

Distill'd  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  blessfed  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,  lo 

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. 


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  within  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  j 

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  ;  lo 

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  forgctfulness  in  me. 


CXXIII.  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.  lo 

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,  who  have  lived  for  crime. 


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  forgoing  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  impcach'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. 


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,  lo 

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. 


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,  havNig,  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  tar  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  belied  with  false  compare. 


CXXXI.  and  CXXXII.  SONNETS 

CXXXI 

Thou  art  as  tyrannous,  so  as  thou  art, 

As  those  whose  beauties  proudly  make  them  cruel  j 

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,  lo 

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  lo 

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  thy  complexion  lack. 


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  thou  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. 


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 ;  lo 

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.' 


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  lies, 

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  wherefore  say  not  I  that  I  am  old  ?  lo 

O,  love's  best  habit  is  in  seeming  trust, 
And  age  in  love  loves  not  to  have  years  told : 
Therefore  I  He  with  her  and  she  with  me. 
And  in  our  faults  by  lies  we  flatter'd  be. 


CXXXIX.  and  CXL.  SONNETS 

CXXXIX 

O  call  not  me  to  justify  the  wrong 
That  thy  unkindness  lays  upon  my  heart ; 
Wound  me  not  with  thine  eye,  but  with  thy  tongue ; 
Use  power  with  power,  and  slay  me  not  by  art. 
Tell  me  thou  lovest  elsewhere ;  but  in  my  sight,  5 

Dear  heart,  forbear  to  glance  thine  eye  aside  : 
What  need'st  thou  wound  with  cunning,  when  thy  might 
Is  more  than  my  o'er-pressed  defence  can  bide  ? 
Let  me  excuse  thee :  ah,  my  love  well  knows 
Her  pretty  looks  have  been  mine  enemies ;  lo 

And  therefore  from  my  face  she  turns  my  foes, 
That  they  elsewhere  might  dart  their  injuries  : 
Yet  do  not  so ;  but  since  I  am  near  slain, 
Kill  me  outright  with  looks,  and  rid  my  pain. 

CXL 

Be  wise  as  thou  art  cruel ;  do  not  press 

My  tongue-tied  patience  with  too  much  disdain  ; 

Lest  sorrow  lend  me  words,  and  words  express 

The  manner  of  my  pity-wanting  pain. 

If  I  might  teach  thee  wit,  better  it  were,  5 

Though  not  to  love,  yet,  love,  to  tell  me  so ; 

As  testy  sick  men,  when  their  deaths  be  near, 

No  news  but  health  from  their  physicians  know ; 

For,  if  I  should  despair,  I  should  grow  mad. 

And  in  my  madness  might  speak  ill  of  thee  :  lo 

Now  this  ill-wresting  world  is  grown  so  bad. 

Mad  slanderers  by  mad  ears  believed  be. 

That  I  may  not  be  so,  nor  thou  belied. 

Bear  thine  eyes  straight,  though  thyproudheartgowide. 


SONNETS  CXLI.  and  CXLII. 

CXLI 

In  faith,  I  do  not  love  thee  with  mine  eyes, 

For  they  in  thee  a  thousand  errors  note  ; 

But  'tis  my  heart  that  loves  what  they  despise, 

Who,  in  despite  of  view,  is  pleased  to  dote  ; 

Nor  are  mine  ears  with  thy  tongue's  tune  delighted  ;  5 

Nor  tender  feeling,  to  base  touches  prone, 

Nor  taste,  nor  smell,  desire  to  be  invited 

To  any  sensual  feast  with  thee  alone : 

But  my  five  wits  nor  my  five  senses  can 

Dissuade  one  foolish  heart  from  serving  thee,  lo 

Who  leaves  unsway'd  the  likeness  of  a  man, 

Thy  proud  heart's  slave  and  vassal  wretch  to  be : 
Only  my  plague  thus  far  I  count  my  gain, 
That  she  that  makes  me  sin  awards  me  pain. 

CXLII 

Love  is  my  sin,  and  thy  dear  virtue  hate, 

Hate  of  my  sin,  grounded  on  sinful  loving  : 

O,  but  with  mine  compare  thou  thine  own  state, 

And  thou  shalt  find  it  merits  not  reproving  ; 

Or,  if  it  do,  not  from  those  lips  of  thine,  5 

That  have  profaned  their  scarlet  ornaments 

And  seal'd  false  bonds  of  love  as  oft  as  mine, 

Robb'd  others'  beds'  revenues  of  their  rents. 

Be  it  lawful  I  love  thee,  as  thou  lovest  those 

Whom  thine  eyes  woo  as  mine  importune  thee:  lo 

Root  pity  in  thy  heart,  that,  when  it  grows, 

Thy  pity  may  deserve  to  pitied  be. 

If  thou  dost  seek  to  have  what  thou  dost  hide, 

By  self-example  mayst  thou  be  denied  ! 


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  1  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 ;  lo 

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. 


SONNETS  CXLV.  and  CXLVI. 

CXLV 

Those  lips  that  Love's  own  hand  did  make 

Breathed  forth  the  sound  that  said  '  I  hate,' 

To  mc  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  lo 

Doth  follow  night,  who,  like  a  fiend, 

From  heaven  to  hell  is  llown  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 

Dost  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 ;  lo 

Buy  terms  divine  in  selling  hours  of  dross ; 

Within  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. 


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 ;  lo 

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  ?  lo 

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. 


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  lie  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  ?  lo 

O,  though  I  love  what  others  do  abhor, 

With  others  thou  shouldst  not  abhor  my  state : 

If  thy  unworthiness  raised  love  in  me. 

More  worthy  I  to  be  beloved  of  thee. 


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. 

CLII 

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 ;  lo 

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 ! 


SONNETS  CLIII.  and  CLIV. 

CLIII 

CupiJ  laid  by  his  brand  and  fell  asleep  : 

A  maid  of  Diaii'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 ;  10 

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  water,  water  cools  not  love. 


SONNETS 


Glossary. 


Abuse,  treat  badly  ;  xlii.  7. 

Acquaintance ;  "  to  take  a  new  a.  of 
thy  mind,"/.f.  thy  mind  will  be- 
come anew  acquainted  with  its 
own  thoughts  "  ;  Ixxvii.  12. 

Act;  "in  z.."  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  opportunity ; 
cliii.  2. 

Advised;  "  a.  respects,"  deliberate 
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,"/.?,  accepting 
no  bail ;   Ixxiv.  2. 

All-oblivious,  causing  all  to  be  for- 
gotten ;  Iv.  9. 

Alloiu,  approve  ;  cxii.  4. 

Amizeth,  confounds  ;   xx.  8. 

Ambush,  insidious  attacks  ;  Ixx.  9. 

Approve,  prove  ;  Ixx.  5. 

,  find  by  experience ;  cxlvii.  7. 

April,  the  month  of  Spring  flowers  ; 
iii.  10. 

^rg-uOTfn/,  subject-matter  ;  xxxviii.  3. 

Art,  learning  ;  Ixvi.  9. 

y^r</,  learning,  letters  ;  Ixxviii.  12. 

As,  as  for  example;  Ixvi.  2. 

Astonished,  Stunned  ;  Ixxxvi.  8. 

Astronomy ,  astrology  ;  xiv.  2. 

Attaint,  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- 

Bfriends,  benefits  ;   cxx.  I. 

Bears;     "  b.    it    out,"    i.e.    endures; 

cxvi.  12. 
Seated,    beaten,     battered     {"bated," 
"  'bated,"  '^beaten,"  have  been  unneces- 
sarily substituted)  ;  Ixii.  10. 
Begetter,  prob.  =  inspirer   (according 

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. 
Bevel,  s\3.nt\ng;  cxxi.  11. 
5/a«,fx,biank  pages  (Quarto,  "blacks"); 

Ixxvii.  10. 
Blenches,  aberrations ;  ex.  7. 
5/oo(/,  passion  ;  cix.  10. 
Blunt,  clumsy  ;  ciii.  7. 
Bonds ,  cXaXms  ;  Ixxxvii.  4. 
Boiver,  habitation  ;  cxxvii.  7. 
Brave,  beautiful ;   xii.  2. 

,  defy  ;  xii.  14. 

Bravery,  splendour  ;  xxxiv.  4. 
Breathers;   "the    b.    of   this    world," 

i.e.     "  the    present    generation " ; 

Ixxxi.  12. 
Bred,  firmly  established  ;  cxii.  13. 

Canker,  canker-worm;  xxxv.  4;  Ixx.  7. 
Canker-blooms,  dog-roses  ;   liv.  5. 
Captain,  cYiiei ;  Iii.  8. 
Carcanet,  necklace  ;  Hi.  8. 
Case;    "love's  fresh  c,"  i.e.   "love's 
new  condition  "  ;  cviii    9. 


SONNETS 


Glossary 


Cast:  '-cast  his  utmost  sum,"  closed 

the  account  ;  xlix.  3. 
Cf/i/ur«,  judges  ;   cxlviii.  4. 
f7/;jr^V,  attacked  ;  Ixx.  10. 
Check,  rebutT;   Iviii.  7. 
Chest;     "time's     ch.,"     i.e.      Time's 

treasure-hold,  the  grave  ;  Ixv.  10. 
Chof>p\l,  chapped,   rent,   roughened  ; 

ixii.  10. 
Churl,  niggard,  miser;   i.  12. 
'C/Vif,  decide  (Quarto,  "j/V<r"j  ;  xlvi.  9. 
Clean,  completely  ;  Ixxv.  10. 
CoBiwic///,  expatiate  ;  Ixxxix.  2. 
Compare,  comparison  ;   xxi.  5. 
Compile,  compose,  write;   Ixxviii.  9. 
Conceit,  conception;  xv.  9;  cviii.  13. 
Confound,  destroy  ;   Ix.  8. 
Co/i/^crj/ir,  consecrated  ;   Ixxiv.  6. 
Contents  ;  "  these  c,"  i.e.  what  is  con- 
tained in  tliese  writings  ;  Iv.  3. 
Cort/rjirW,  betrothed  ;   i.  5. 
Controlling,     rendering     subordinate, 

surpassing ;  xx.  7. 
Con-vert,  turn,  change  thy  aim  ;  xiv. 

12. 
Converted,  changed  ;  xlix.  7. 

,  turned  away  ;  vii.  11. 

Convertest,  dost  turn  away  ;  xi.  4. 
Cofii,,  the  original  design  ;  xi.  14. 
Correct;  "to  c.  correction,"/.;:,  "to 

perfect  correction  "  ;  cxi.  i  2. 
Cost,  that  on  which  money  is  spent ; 

Ixiv.  2. 
Count,  account,  reckoning;  ii.  11. 
Counterfeit,  portrait ;   xvi.  8. 

,  (rhyming  with  "•set,"')  ;  liii.  5. 

Counterpart,      exact       reproduction  ; 

Ixxxiv.  II. 
Couplemrnt.    Union    (Quarto,    •■  coofle- 

ment")  ;   Xxi.  5. 
Courj«,  yearly  courses  ;  lix.  6. 
Critic,  carper  :  cxii.  1 1. 
Crooked,  malignant ;  Ix.  7. 
Curious,  fastidious,  critical  ;   xxxviii. 

D.imaslid,  variegated  ;  cxxx.  5. 
Date,  limit ;    xiv.  14. 
Z)a/*/«/,  endless  ;    xxx.  6. 


Dateless,  eternal  ;  cliii.  6. 

Dates,  terms  of  existence  ;  cxxiii.  5. 

Z)far,  loving  ;   xlvi.  12. 

Dearest,  most  intense;    xxxvii.  3. 

Z)^ij/f,  contest,  quarrel ;   Ixxxix.   13. 

Debateth,  combats  (perhaps  discutses); 

XV.    I  I  . 

Decay,  cause  of  ruin  ;  Ixxx.  14. 
Dedicated;  •' d.  words,"  i.e.  (probably) 

words  of  dedication  ;  ixxxii.  3. 
/>f/>a/,  destroy  ;  Ixi.   11. 
Z)</^j/<-i^,  defrauded  ;   xx.   11. 
Z)^/;-^,  fault,  blameworthiness;  Ixx.  1. 

,  defects  ;  cxlix.  11. 

Defence,  resistance  ;  cxxxix.  8. 
Delves;  "d.  the  parallels," /.f.  "  makes 

furrows ;   Ix.  10. 
Denote,  show  ;  cxlviii.  7. 
Departest,  leaves t  ;  xi.  2. 
Determinate,  determine,  ended,  out  of 

date  ;  Ixxxvii.  4. 
Determination,   end   of  (a   legal   use) ; 

xiii.  6. 
ZJ/jflW^i/ (quadrisyllable  )  ;  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. 
Drop  in,  come  in  ;  xc.  4. 
Z)u//n«^,  drowsiness  ;  Ivi.  8. 
Dwellers  on,  those  who  set  store  on  ; 

cxxv.  5. 

Eager,  sharp,  acid;   cxviii.  2. 

£^rf,  working  efficiency  ;  xxxvi.  7. 

Effectually,  in  reality  ;  cxiii.  4. 

jE/jf/,  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.  Vl.';  Hales); 
Ixx.    12. 

Enlighten,  to  shed  lustre  on  ;  clii.  1 1. 
Ensconce,  shelter;    xlix.  9. 


Glossary 


SONNETS 


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  clue ") ; 
xxxvii.  7. 

Envy  (accented  on  second  syllable)  ; 
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. 

/a/r,  beauty  ;   xvi.  11. 

Fairly,  beauteously,  in  respect  of 
beauty;   v.  4. 

False;  " f .  esteem,"  spurious  reputa- 
tion ;  cxxvii.  I  2. 

Fame,  made  famous;  Ixxxiii.  11. 

/j-yoar,  countenance  ;  cxiii.  lo. 

,  outward  appearance;  cxxv.  5. 

iJ'ff,  pledjre,  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,  imagina- 
tion, fantasy,  estimation,  memory ; 
cxli.  9. 

Flourish,  external  beauty ;  Ix.  9. 

Foison,  plenty,  rich  harvest ;  liii.  9. 

Fond,  foolish  ;  iii.  7. 

;   "  being    f.    on,"   i.e.    "  doting 

on  ";  Ixxxiv.  14. 

Fools  of  time,  i.e.  the  sports  of  Time  ; 
cxxiv.  13. 

For,  because ;  xl.  6 ;  liv.  9. 

,  for  fear  of;  Iii.  4. 

;  "f.  thy  hand,"  i.e.  "for  steal- 
ing the  whiteness  of  thy  hand"; 
xcix.  6. 

^Fore,  before  (Quarto,  "fore");  vii. 
II. 


Foregone,    past,    previously   endured ; 

xxx.  9. 
Form,  good  semblance;  Ixxxix.  6. 
Forivard,  early;  xcix.  i. 
Foul,  ugly;  cxxxvii.  12. 
Frank,  liberal ;   iv.  4. 
Free,  liberal,  bountiful ;  iv.  4. 
Frequent,  intimate  ;   cxvii.  c. 
Front;  "  summer's  f.,"  i.e.  "  summer's 

beginning  "  ;  cii.  7. 
Fury,  poetic  inspiration  ;  c.  3. 

Gflu^,  gay,  festive  ;  i.  10. 

Gaze,  object  gazed  at ;  v.  2. 

General,  chief  cause  ;  cliv.  7. 

Give,  to  ascribe  ;  ex  v.  14. 

Go,  walk;  11.  14;  cxxx.  11. 

Gored;    "  g.    mine   own    thoughts," 

i.e.    "wounded    my    self-respect"; 

ex.  3. 
Gracious,   full    of   grace,    beauteous ; 

Ixii.  5. 
Greeing;    "is    g.,"  i.e.   suits,   agrees; 

cxiv.  II. 
Grind,  whet;  ex.  10. 
Grossly,  manifestly  ;  xcix.  5. 
Gust,  taste;  cxiv.  11. 

Habit,  heating;  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  "  ;  perhaps,  better,"  mere 
extravagant  talk  "  ;  xxi.  13. 

Heavy,  gloomy,  morose  ;  xcviii.  4. 

Height,  angular  altitude  ;  cxvi.  8. 

His,  its  ;  ix.  lo. 

Horse,  horses  ;  xci.  4, 

Hue,  form  ;  xx.  7. 

Husbandry,  economy  ;  xiii.  10. 

Idle;  "  i.  rank,"  i.e.  "  poor  dignity  "; 

cxxii.  3. 
Ill-wresting,  trusting  to  a  bad  sense ; 

Cxl.    II. 

Imaginary,  imaginative  ;   xxvii.  9. 


SONNETS 


Glossary 


Imprison  J:  "  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. 

InJiireji,  formless  ;  cxiv.  5. 

/nJ;Vcir//y,  artificially  ;  Ixvii.  7. 

//i/rf<yrjc,  entomb  ;  Ixxxvi.  3. 

Injurious,  hostile  ;    xliv.  I. 

Iniulti,  exults  ;  cvii.   i  2. 

Intend,  direct  ;  xxvii.  6. 

Interest,  rightful  claim  ;   xxxi.  7. 

,  property;  Ixxiv.  3. 

Invention,  imagination  ;   xxxviii.  8. 

Itself, \t%  natural  self,  nature  itself; 
Ixviii.  10. 

Jacks,  keys  of  the  virginal ;  cxxviii. 
5.     The    annexed    diagram    (by 
Fairholt)  exhibits  the  mechanism 
of  the  jack  :—a  is  the  jack  ;  b,  tlie 
quill ;  c,  the  bristle  spring  ;  d,  the  | 
cloth  damper.     The  quill  is  here  1 
shewn  beside  the  jack  :  its  proper  j 
place  is  the  groove  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  jack,  the  bristle  being 
held  in  the  small  hole  seen  there. 


a 


Just;  "j.  to  the  time,"  "punctual 
to  the  time  "';  cix.  7. 

iC«/^,  guards  ;  cxxxiii.  ii. 

12  s* 


Key     (rhyming     with     '■^  survey"); 

lii.  I. 
Kindness,  affection  :  clii.  9. 

Lace,  embellish  ;  Ixvii.  4. 

Lame;    "made    1.,"    crippled    (used 

metaphorically);  xxxvii.  3. 
Lameness,  impaired  condition  f?  used 

metaphorically);  Ixxxix.  3. 
Latch,  catch  ;  cxiii.  6. 
Lay,  lay  on  ;  ci.  7. 
Learnintr,  lesson  ;   Ixxvii.  4. 
Leese,  lose  ;   v.  14. 
Level,  aim  ;  cxvii.  11. 
Light;    "set    me    1.,"    esteem     me 

lightly ;  Ixxxviii.  i. 
Liie  of,  like,  care  for  ;   xxi.  13. 
Limhects,  alembics  ;   cxix.  2. 
Lines;  "1.  of  life," living  lines,  living 

pictures  {i.e.  children) ;  xvi.  9. 
Live,  subsist ;  iv.  8. 
Lool:,  lo  ;  xi.  II. 
Love;  '•  1.  for  love,"  i.e.  "Love,  on 

account  of  my  love  "  ;  li.  12. 
Lovely;  '•  thy  1.  argument,"  ;.^.  "the 

theme  of  your  loveliness  "  ;  Ixxix. 

S- 

Love's,  mistress's  ;   xlii.  9. 

Lusty,  vigorous;  ii.  6. 

Main;  "  m.  of  light," /.;.  "flood  of 

light  (into  which  a  new-born  child 

is  launched)  ";  Ix.  5. 
Makelesi,  without  a  mate  ;  ix.  4. 
Manner,  courteous  dccorum  ;  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        ^- melan- 

ch'ly");  xlv.  8. 
Memory,  memorials  ;   cxxii.  2. 
Million  d,  millionfold,   innumerable  ; 

cxv.  5. 


Glossary 


SONNETS 


Mind,  thought;  lix.  8. 
Minion,  darling  ;   cxxvi.  9. 
Misprision,  mistake,  error;   Ixxxvii. 

II. 
Moan,  bemoan  ;  xxx.  8. 
Modern,  ordinary,  common  ;  Ixxxiii. 

7- 
Moiety,  share,  portion  ;  xlvi.  1 2. 

More;  "  m.  and  less,"  i.e.  "  high  and 

low  "  ;   xcvi.  3. 
;    "the   m.,"  i.e.   the    greater 

faculty ;  xi.  11. 
Mortal;    "  m.    rage,"   the    resistless 

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 ;  viil.  i. 

Neglect,  being  neglected  by  others  ; 
cxii.  12. 

Ne-wer,  more  recent ;  cxxiii.  2. 

Niggarding,  being  miserly;   i.  12. 

None;  less  than  nothing  (antithetical 
to  "one  ";  perhaps,  however,  there 
is  an  allusion  to  the  proverbial 
saying  "one  is  no  number "j; 
viii.  14. 

Noted,  familiar ;  Ixxvi.  6. 

Obsequious,  funereal ;  xxxi.  5. 

,  devoted,  zealous  ;  cxxv.  9. 

O'ergreen,  cover  with  verdure,  em- 
bellish (Sewell,  "  o'er-skreen  "  ; 
Steevens,  *'  o'er-grie-ve")  •   cxii.  4. 

G'erlook,  peruse;  Ixxxii.  2. 

OVr/>r«jV,  over-strained  ;  cxxxix.  8. 

Offences;  '-made  old  o.  of  affections 
new,"  i.e.  "  each  new  affection 
transgressed  against  my  old  love"; 
ex.  4. 

Old;  "  my  o.  excuse,"  i.e.  "  the  ex- 
cuse of  my  oldness  "  ;  ii.  II. 

One  on  anothers  neck;  one  after  another ; 
cxxxi.  1 1. 

On/y,  principal,  chief;  i.  10. 

Orphans;  "  hope  of  o.,"  i.e.  "expecta- 
tion of  the  birth  of  posthumous 
children";  xcvii.  10. 


Over-goes,  transcends ;  ciii.  7. 
0-we,  own,  possess  ;  Ixx.  14. 
Owett,  possessest ;  xviii.  10. 

Pace  forth,  walk,  go,  proceed  ;  Iv.  lo. 

Pain,  punishment;  cxli.  14. 

P arallt Is,  Wms;   Ix.   10. 

Part;  "p.  his  function,"/.?,  "divide 
its  function  "  ;  cxiii.  3. 

Partake;  "with  thee  p.,"  i.e.  "take 
thy  part  "  ;  cxlix.  2. 

Particulars,  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. 

Perspecti-ve,  used  perhaps  with  a  play 
upon  the  two  senses :  (i)  "  the 
science  of  perspective,"  and  (ii) 
"a  glass  cut  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  produce  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. 

P//^^i,  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  pre- 
diction ;  xiv.  8. 

Present,  immediate  ;  cxlix.  8. 

Prevent' st,  hinderest  by  anticipation; 
c.  14. 

/"m/fV,  marked  ;  xx.  13. 

Pride,  proud  conquest ;   cli.  10. 

Prime,  spring  ;  xcvii.  7. 

/'ri-yi/Zf,  ordinary  ;   ix.  7. 

Prizing;  "  not  p.,"  i.e.  disregarding  ; 
cxliii.  8. 


SONNETS 


Glossary 


Proud-pied,     gorgeously     variegated  ; 

xcviii.  2. 
i'roair,  ultimately  become  ;  viii.  14. 

,  find  ;  Ixxii.  4. 

Pyramids,  used  as  symbolical  of  what 

is  grand  and  stupendous  ;  cxxiii.  z. 

Qualify,  temper;  cix.  2. 
Queit,  inqucNt,  or  jury  ;  xlvi.  10. 
Question  mate,  feel  a  doubt ;   xii.  9. 
Quietus,     discharge     of     obligation  ; 
cxxvi.  14. 

Rack;  mass  of  floating  cloud  ;  xxxiii. 

6. 
Ragged,  rugged,  rough;  vi.  i. 
Ranged,  gone  away  ;  cix.  5. 
Rank,  sick  ;  cxviii.  12. 
Rearivard;    "in   the  r.,"  i.e.  at   the 

end  ;  xc.  6. 
Receipt,  capacity,  power  of  receiving 

and  containing  ;  cxxxvi.  y. 
Reckoning,  taking  account  of;  cxv.  5. 
Record,  history  ;  lix.  5. 
Recured,  restored  ;   xlv.  9. 
Region,  belonging  to  the  upper  air  ; 

xxxiii.  12. 
Remembered,  reminded  ;  cxx.  9. 
Remove,  fall  away  ;   cxvi.  4. 
Removid,  passed  ;   xcvii.  5. 
Render;  "mutual  r.,"  i.e.  ''give  and 

take  ";  cxxv.  12. 

,  surrender  ;  cxxvi.  14. 

Rene-uPd,  thoroughly  changed  ;  cxi.  8. 
Repair;  "  fresh  r.,"  renovation, health- 
ful condition  ;  iii.  3. 

,  renovate  ;  xvi.  9. 

Reserve,  preserve  ;   xxxii.  7. 

.^«^«/,  regard,  consideration;   xxvi. 

12. 
;  "but  one  r.,"  i.e.  "one  matter 

for  consideration  ";  perhaps  "one 

affection,"  or  "  perfect  similarity  "; 

xxxvi.  5. 
Reslij,  torpid  ;   c.  9. 
Retention,    means    of    preserving    im- 

pressions(  =  a  table  book);  cxxii.  9. 
.ffir^o//,  faithlessness  ;  xcii.  10. 
Rotten,  damp,  vapourish  ;  xxxiv.  4. 


Roundure,  circle  ;   xxi.  i. 
Ruinate,  ruin  ;    x.  7. 
Ruth,  pity  ;  cxxxii.  4. 

Salutation;  "give  $.,"  i.e.  "affect  in 
any  manner,  gratify  or  mortify  "  ; 
cxxi.  6. 

Satire;  "be  a  s.  to  decay,"  satirise 
decay,  mock   decay   (?  =  satirist;; 

c.   I  I. 

Scope,  power,  range  of  thought  ; 
xxix.  7. 

Seconds,  an  inferior  kind  of  flour,  base 
matter  ;  cxxv.  1 1. 

Seeing;  "dead  s.,"  i.e.  "lifeless  ap- 
pearance" ;  Ixvii.  6. 

Self-substantial,  deriving  its  substance 
from  thyself;  i.  6. 

Sense,  reason  ;  xxxv.  9. 

5j-/iarai/<',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, 

S/wiv,  appear  ;  cv.  2. 

Simplicity,  ioWy  ;  Ixvi.  11. 

Siren;  cxix.  I.  The  annexed  en- 
graving of  syrens  is  copied  from  an 
illuminated  MS.  of  the  fourteenth 
century. 


^r^^ 


5//,  be  comprised  ;  ciii.  13. 

Slept;  "have  I  s.  in  your  report,"  i.e. 
j  I  have  been  slow  to  tell  your 
'      praises  ;  Ixxxiii.  5. 


Glossary 


SONNETS 


So,  provided  only  ;  Ixx.  5. 

Soil,  solution  ;  with  a  play  upon  the 
more  ordinary  sense  of  the  word 
(Quarto,  "soiye";  Malone,  "jolve"; 
1640  ed.,  "so^le");   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.  1 2. 

,  rank,  power;  cxxi  v.  i. 

Statute  (used  in  legal  sense)  "  secu- 
rity, or  obligation  for  money  "  : 
cxxxiv.  9. 

Steal,  glide  away  ;  civ.  10. 

Steel'J,  hardened  ;  cxii.  8. 

Steep-up,  high  and  precipitous;  vii.  5. 

5/?^/iy,  having  a  steep  decline;  Ixiii.  5. 

Stell'd,  fixed  (Quarto,  "steeU"); 
xxiv.  I . 

Store;  '-made  for  s.,"  i.e.  increase, 
fertility,  population  ;  xi.  9. 

Store's;  "  in  thy  s.  account,"  i.e.  "in 
estimating  the  worth  of  thy  pos- 
sessions "  ;  cxxxvi.  10. 

Strained,  forced,  overwrought ;  Ixxxii. 
10, 

Strange,  distant  ;  Ixxxix.  8. 

Sfrangclt^,  distantly  ;   ex.  6. 

Strangle,  extinguish  ;  Ixxxix.  8. 

Strength;  "  s.  of  laws,"  the  laws' 
support,  perfect  legal  right ;  xlix. 

13- 
Stretched,  o\eTstra.\ned  ;  xvii.  12. 
Subscribes,  y'lfAds  ;  cvii.  10. 
Successive,    by    Order    of   succession  ; 

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.  11. 
Summer's   story,    i.e.    "  gay    fiction  "  : 

xcviii.  7. 
Suspect,  suspicion  ;  Ixx.  3. 
Stvift;  "s.  extremity":  the  extreme 

of  swiftness ;  li.  6. 


Sympathized,     described     with      due 
appreciation;  Ixxxii.  11. 

Table,  tablet ;   xxiv.  2. 
Tables,  memorandum  tablets  ;  cxxii.  i . 
(^Cp.  illustration.) 


From  Gesner's  De  rerum  fossiliuin 
liguris.  1565. 

Tallies,  notched  sticks  for  keeping 
accounts  ;  cxxii.  10. 

Tame,  tamed  ;  Iviii.  7. 

Tatter  d  (Quarto,  '^  totter  d,''  an  old 
form  of  the  word)  ;  ii.  4  ;  xxvi.  1 1. 

7>//,  count ;  xxx.  10. 

Terms,  "  (?)  long  periods  of  time" 
(opposed  to  hours  j;  cxlvi.  11. 

That,  so  that ;  xcviii.  4. 

Thralled,  kept  down,  held  in  subjec- 
tion ;  cxxiv.  7. 

7'>^r////(?«,  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  having"; 
Ixiv.  14. 

Translated,  cYizn^eA;  xcvi.  8. 

Treasure,  make  rich  ;   vi.  3. 

Triumphant,  triumphal  ;  cli.  10. 

Trust;  "for  fear  of  tr.,"  fearing  to 
trust  myself;  xxiii.  5. 


SONNETS 


Glossary 


Truth,  allegiance,  troth,  duty  ;  xli.  1 1. 

,  (?)  fidelity  :  ex.  5. 

7'Tf/r,',  peep,  twinkle  :   xxviii.  12. 

Tyrant:  "ail  t..''  i.e.  tyrannical 
towards  myself;  (?)  '-thou  com- 
plete tyrant  "  ;  cxlix.  4. 

Unbless,    neglect    to    make    happy ; 

iii.  4. 
Under     thee,     under     thy     auspices  ; 

Ixxviii.  4. 
Uneard,  unpioughed  ;  iii.  5. 
Unfair,  deprive  of  beauty;  v.  4. 
Unhappily,  mischievously  ;  Ixvi.  4. 
Unlook'dfor,  disregarded  ;  xxv.  4. 
Unfrovident,  improvident  ;  x.  2. 
Unrtsfected.  unnoticed;  xliii.  2. 

,  unregarded  :  liv.  10. 

Unthrift,  prodigal,  spendthrift;  ix.  9. 
t/n/n/ir,  untruly  ;  Ixxii.  10. 
Uie,  interest;  vi.  5  ;  cxxxiv.  10. 
U:er,   possessor   (Sewell,   "  u/Vct-  ")  ; 

ix.  12. 

Fade,  fade  :  liv.  14. 

Fount,  mount  upwards :  xv.  7. 

Viev!,  what  it  sees  ;  cxli.  4. 

Warraniise,  security  ;  cl.  7. 
Wojte ;  "w.  of  shame,"  ;.f.  "  shame- 
ful 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"  fmono. 
syllabic:  Quarto,  '^ -where  "^  ;  lix. 
II. 

WilL  :  '•  in  their  w.,"  i.e.  '•  according 
to  their  pleasure";  cxxi.  8. 

Wini.  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  the  present  time"; 
or.  "being  tempted  in  thy  youth "); 
Ixx.  6. 

Jri5r/A,(?)  "stellar  influence":  cxvi.  8. 

Wreciful, destmctive  (Quarto,  "•urad- 
/«//");  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.  1 1. 

Toungly,  in  the  period  of  youth:  xi.  3. 
Yourself,  your  very  self,  truly  yours, 
master  of  yourself  :   xiii.  i. 


SONNETS 


Notes. 


XII.  4.   'And  .      .air-,  so  Malone;  Quarto.  'And  .  .  .  or.' 
XVI.  10.    '  l/iis,    .   .   .  fen';   Quarto,  '  i/tis  (Time'i  fcmirl  or  my  fufill  fen)' ; 
Massey  conj.  'this  time's  fendl,  or  my  fufiJ  fen';  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.  'fiieist';  so  Quarto;  Dyce,  'fleets'  (rhyming  with  ' stueeU'); 
cp.  VIII.  7. 

XX.  7.   '  hue,  all  "  hues  "':   Quarto,  •  hetc  all  Hctus  '  (He-ws  in  italics). 

XXI.  5.    '  couflement' :   Quarto,  '  coot  elm  tnt.' 

XXV.  9-1 1,  'flght  .  .  .  quite';  Malone  (Theobald  conj.");  Quarto, 
*  loorth  .  .  .  quite ' ;  Theobald  conj.  '  v.'erth  .  .  .  forth '  ;  Capell  MS., 
'  might   .    .    .    quite.' 

XXVII.  10.  'thy';  Quarto,  •  M«>' ;  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';  Capell  MS.  and 
Collier  conj.  ;   Quarto,  'longer  .  .   .  length  seeme  stronger.' 

XXXI.  8.    'thee';  Qa^rto,  '  there.' 

XXXIV.   10-12.    'loss  .   .   .    cross';  Qua.no.'  losse  .    .   .  losse.' 

XXXIV.  13.   '  sheds  ' ;  Quarto,  '  sheeds  '  (rhyming  with  '  deeds  '). 

XXXIX.  12.   'doth';  QuzTto,  '  dost.' 

XL.  7.  'thyself';  Quarto,  '  tkU  sei/e.' 

XLI.  8.   'she  have';  Tyrwhitt  conj.  ;  Quarto,  'he  haue' ;  Ewing,  'he  has.' 

XLVII.  II.   'not';  so  ed.  1640;  Quarto, '/lor.' 

XLIX.  10.   '  desert ' ;  Quarto,  '  desart '  (rhyming  with  'fart '). 

LI.  II.  'neigh — no  dull  flesh — '  (Malone);  Quarto,  '  naigh  not  dull  flesh'; 
prob.  the  reading  of  the  quarto  is  correct, ' /i«VA '  =  ' neigh  after,' '  neigh  to,' 
cf.  "They  were  fed  horses  in  the  morning;  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,  '  IfUl' ;  Massey  conj.  '"  Will.'" 


SONNETS  Notes 

LXII.  7.  '  And  f'jr  mijietf,'  i.t.  'and  for  my  own  latijfaction,'  or  perhapi 
the  word*  merely  emphasize  the  statement. 

LXV.  iz.  '0/';  Malone;  Quarto,  'or';  Capell  MS.,  '  *Vr ' ;  GUdon. 
'on: 

LXIX.  3.  Uhat  due'  \  Capell  MS.  and  Tyrwhi't  conj.  ;  Quarto, '  that  end' ; 
Scwell  fed.  l),  '  ihy  due.' 

LXX.   I.   'ar<,'ed.   1640;    Quarto,  'are.' 

6.   '7V;^';  Capell  MS.  ;  Quarto,  '  M«>.' 

LXXill.  4.    '  Bare  ruind  chain  ' ;    Quarto,  '  Bare  rn-wd  quieri.' 

LXXIV.  14,   'that  it  thii,'  i.e.  my  spirit  is  my  poetry. 

LXXVl.  7.  'tell';  Capell  MS. ;  Quarto,  «/<:/';  Lintott,  '/■//';  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.),  'Rehearse  thy.'  a 
more  plausible  reading  than  'preserve  their,' ' deserve  their'  etc.,  and  other 
suggestions  which  have  been  advanced  ;  their  is  probably  some  error  in  the 
text  as  printed. 

LXXXVI.  13.   'fll'd';   Quarto,  'Jild';  Malone, '/fd.' 

XCIV.  14.  c/>.  Edward  III.  ii.  i  Sprinted  in  1596): — 

"  Poison  shows  worst  in  a  golden  cup; 
Dark  nii^ht  seems  darker  by  the  lightning  /lash  ; 
Lilies  that/ester  seem/ar  worse  than  weeds  ; 
A  nd  every  glory,  that  inclines  to  sin. 
The  same  is  treble  by  the  opposite." 

XCV.    IZ.    'turn';    QuartO,  < /l/r««.' 

XCIX.  A  fifteen-lined  sonnet  ;  the  first  line  serves  as  a  sort  of  intro- 
duction, standing  outside  the  sonnet. 

XCIX.  15.    's-weet';  S.  Walker  conj.  'scent.* 

CII.  8.  '^fr.'Housman;  Quarto, '^V.' 

CVl.  iz.  '  skill' ;  Tyrwhitt  conj.  and  Capell  MS.  ;  Quarto,  ' still : 

CVII.  8.  It  has  been  suggested  that  this  is  a  possible  allusion  to  the 
peace  completed  in  1609,  which  ended  the  war  between  Spain  and  the 
United  Provinces  ;  but  this  is  merely  a  random  suggestion. 

CVIII.  3.  'nevi  .  .  .  neiv,'  Malone;  Quarto,  ' neiv  .  .  .  noxu'  \  S.  Walker 
conj.  '  noiu  .  .  .  no-w.' 

CXII.  8.  'or  changes';  Malone  conj.  'e'er  changes';  Knight  conj.  '  St 
changes.' 

14.  *  besides  methinii  are.'  Capell  MS.  and  Steevens  conj.  ;  Quarto,  ^besides 
melhinkes  y'  are' ;   Dyce,  '  be  1  ides   melhinis  they're.' 

CXIII.  6.   'latch';   Quarto, '/j<:i.' 


Notes  SONNETS 

CXIII.  14.  ^  maketh  mine  untrue'-,  so  Quarto;  Capell  MS.  and  Malone 
conj.  ^  makes  mine  eye  untrue' ;  Collier  conj.  '■  maieth  my  eyne  untrue';  Malone 
conj.  ^  thy  most  true  mind  maketh  mine  untrue.' 

CXIX.  14.   '  i//,' Malone  ;  Quarto,'/'///.' 

CXX.  6.    'you'-ue'  \    Quarto,  <■  y'haue.' 

CXXIII.  7.   '  them,'  i.e.  '  -what  thou  dost  foist  upon  us.' 

CXXIV.  13-14.  '  T/ie  fools  of  time,'  etc.  Tyler  sees  in  these  lines  a  refer- 
ence to  the  popular  repute  of  Essex  as  the  "  good  earl,"  notwithstanding 
the  "crimes "for  which  he  and  certainly  bis  companions  were  executed; 
the  allusion  is  probably  more  general,  and  perhaps,  as  Palgrave  observes, 
to  "  the  plotters  and  political  martyrs  of  the  time." 

CXXVI.  This  short  poem  is  of  six  rhymed  couplets  ;  it  was  evidently 
not  intended  to  pass  as  an  ordinary  sonnet,  tho'  after  the  last  line  an  omis- 
sion of  two  lines  is  marked  in  the  quarto  by  two  pairs  of  parentheses.  It 
is  the  envoy,  the  conclusion  of  one  series  of  sonnets. 

2.  '■  sickle,  hour' ;  Quarto,  -sickle,  hoiver' ;  perhaps  we  should  redid  ^  sickle 
hour';  other  suggestions,  unsatisfactory  for  the  most  part,  are,  ^Jickle 
motver ' ;   'Jicile  hoar  '  ;   '  sick/e  hoar  ' ;  etc. 

CXXVII.  9-10.  'eyes  .  .  .  eyes,'  Quarto;  Capell  MS.,  'eyes  .  .  .  hairs  '; 
S.  Walker  and  Delius  conj.  'hairs  .  .  .  eyes  ';  Staunton  and  Brae  conj. '  broivs 
.  .  .  eyes,'  etc. 

CXXIX.   II.    'proved,  a  very,'  Capell  MS.  ;   Quarto,  ' proud  and  very.' 

CXXXV.  13.  'no  unkind,  no  '  ;  Do  wden  conj.  '  no  unkind  "  No  "  ' ;  Rossetti 
proposed  'skill,'  i.e.  "avail"  instead  oi  '  kill.' 

CXXXVII.  cp.  Passionate  Pilgrim,  I. 

CXLII.  6-7.  cp.  Edward  III.  ii.  i  : — '  His  cheeks  put  on  their  scarlet 
ornaments.' 

CXLIII.  I.  '  housezvifo' ;  Quarto,  ' Ausivifo.' 

13.  '  have  thy  "  Will"'  ;  cp.  Preface. 

CXLIV.  cp.  Passionate  Pilgrim,  II. 

6.  'side' ;  so  Passionate  Pilgrim,  and  Capell  MS.  ;  Quarto,  'sight.' 

9.  'fiend';  Quarto,  'Jinde';  Passionate  Pilgrim, 'yii'Wc.' 

CXLV.  The  only  sonnet  in  Shakespeare  in  eight-syllable  verse. 

CXLVI.  1-2.  'earth  .  .  .  these  rebel';  Quarto,  'earth.  My  sinfoll  earth 
these  rebbeir  ;  Malone,  '  ^■ar<//,  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,  afHict,  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,  '  eye.' 

360 


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