Finding Shakespeare

Venus And Adonis

1 Even as the sun with purple-colour’d face
2 Had ta’en his last leave of the weeping morn,
3 Rose-cheek’d Adonis tried him to the chase;
4 Hunting he lov’d, but love he laugh’d to scorn;
5 Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
6 And like a bold-fac’d suitor ’gins to woo him.

7 “Thrice fairer than myself,” thus she began,
8 “The field’s chief flower, sweet above compare,
9 Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
10 More white and red than doves or roses are:
11 Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
12 Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.

13 “Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
14 And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
15 If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
16 A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
17 Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
18 And being set, I’ll smother thee with kisses.

19 “And yet not cloy thy lips with loath’d satiety,
20 But rather famish them amid their plenty,
21 Making them red, and pale, with fresh variety:
22 Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
23 A summer’s day will seem an hour but short,
24 Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.”

25 With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
26 The precedent of pith and livelihood,
27 And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
28 Earth’s sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
29 Being so enrag’d, desire doth lend her force
30 Courageously to pluck him from his horse.

31 Over one arm the lusty courser’s rein,
32 Under her other was the tender boy,
33 Who blush’d and pouted in a dull disdain,
34 With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
35 She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
36 He red for shame, but frosty in desire.

37 The studded bridle on a ragged bough
38 Nimbly she fastens;—O! how quick is love!—
39 The steed is stalled up, and even now
40 To tie the rider she begins to prove:
41 Backward she push’d him, as she would be thrust,
42 And govern’d him in strength, though not in lust.

43 So soon was she along, as he was down,
44 Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
45 Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
46 And ’gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips,
47 And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
48 “If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.”

49 He burns with bashful shame, she with her tears
50 Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;
51 Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs
52 To fan and blow them dry again she seeks.
53 He saith she is immodest, blames her miss;
54 What follows more, she murders with a kiss.

55 Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
56 Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone,
57 Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,
58 Till either gorge be stuff’d or prey be gone:
59 Even so she kiss’d his brow, his cheek, his chin,
60 And where she ends she doth anew begin.

61 Forc’d to content, but never to obey,
62 Panting he lies, and breatheth in her face.
63 She feedeth on the steam, as on a prey,
64 And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace,
65 Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers
66 So they were dew’d with such distilling showers.

67 Look how a bird lies tangled in a net,
68 So fasten’d in her arms Adonis lies;
69 Pure shame and aw’d resistance made him fret,
70 Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes:
71 Rain added to a river that is rank
72 Perforce will force it overflow the bank.

73 Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,
74 For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale.
75 Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets,
76 ’Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy pale;
77 Being red she loves him best, and being white,
78 Her best is better’d with a more delight.

79 Look how he can, she cannot choose but love;
80 And by her fair immortal hand she swears,
81 From his soft bosom never to remove,
82 Till he take truce with her contending tears,
83 Which long have rain’d, making her cheeks all wet;
84 And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.

85 Upon this promise did he raise his chin,
86 Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave,
87 Who, being look’d on, ducks as quickly in;
88 So offers he to give what she did crave,
89 But when her lips were ready for his pay,
90 He winks, and turns his lips another way.

91 Never did passenger in summer’s heat
92 More thirst for drink than she for this good turn.
93 Her help she sees, but help she cannot get;
94 She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn:
95 “O! pity,” ’gan she cry, “flint-hearted boy,
96 ’Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy?

97 “I have been woo’d as I entreat thee now,
98 Even by the stern and direful god of war,
99 Whose sinewy neck in battle ne’er did bow,
100 Who conquers where he comes in every jar;
101 Yet hath he been my captive and my slave,
102 And begg’d for that which thou unask’d shalt have.

103 “Over my altars hath he hung his lance,
104 His batter’d shield, his uncontrolled crest,
105 And for my sake hath learn’d to sport and dance,
106 To toy, to wanton, dally, smile, and jest;
107 Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red
108 Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.

109 “Thus he that overrul’d I oversway’d,
110 Leading him prisoner in a red rose chain:
111 Strong-temper’d steel his stronger strength obey’d,
112 Yet was he servile to my coy disdain.
113 Oh be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,
114 For mast’ring her that foil’d the god of fight.

115 “Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine,
116 Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red,
117 The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine:
118 What see’st thou in the ground? hold up thy head,
119 Look in mine eyeballs, there thy beauty lies;
120 Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes?

121 “Art thou asham’d to kiss? then wink again,
122 And I will wink; so shall the day seem night.
123 Love keeps his revels where there are but twain;
124 Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight,
125 These blue-vein’d violets whereon we lean
126 Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.

127 “The tender spring upon thy tempting lip
128 Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted,
129 Make use of time, let not advantage slip;
130 Beauty within itself should not be wasted,
131 Fair flowers that are not gather’d in their prime
132 Rot, and consume themselves in little time.

133 “Were I hard-favour’d, foul, or wrinkled old,
134 Ill-nurtur’d, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice,
135 O’erworn, despised, rheumatic, and cold,
136 Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice,
137 Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee;
138 But having no defects, why dost abhor me?

139 “Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow,
140 Mine eyes are grey and bright, and quick in turning;
141 My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow,
142 My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning,
143 My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt,
144 Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt.

145 “Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,
146 Or like a fairy, trip upon the green,
147 Or like a nymph, with long dishevell’d hair,
148 Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen.
149 Love is a spirit all compact of fire,
150 Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.

151 “Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie:
152 These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me;
153 Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky,
154 From morn till night, even where I list to sport me.
155 Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be
156 That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee?

157 “Is thine own heart to thine own face affected?
158 Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left?
159 Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected,
160 Steal thine own freedom, and complain on theft.
161 Narcissus so himself himself forsook,
162 And died to kiss his shadow in the brook.

163 “Torches are made to light, jewels to wear,
164 Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use,
165 Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear;
166 Things growing to themselves are growth’s abuse,
167 Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth beauty;
168 Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty.

169 “Upon the earth’s increase why shouldst thou feed,
170 Unless the earth with thy increase be fed?
171 By law of nature thou art bound to breed,
172 That thine may live when thou thyself art dead;
173 And so in spite of death thou dost survive,
174 In that thy likeness still is left alive.”

175 By this the love-sick queen began to sweat,
176 For where they lay the shadow had forsook them,
177 And Titan, tired in the midday heat,
178 With burning eye did hotly overlook them,
179 Wishing Adonis had his team to guide,
180 So he were like him and by Venus’ side.

181 And now Adonis with a lazy spright,
182 And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,
183 His louring brows o’erwhelming his fair sight,
184 Like misty vapours when they blot the sky,
185 Souring his cheeks, cries, “Fie, no more of love:
186 The sun doth burn my face; I must remove.”

187 “Ay me,” quoth Venus, “young, and so unkind!
188 What bare excuses mak’st thou to be gone!
189 I’ll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind
190 Shall cool the heat of this descending sun:
191 I’ll make a shadow for thee of my hairs;
192 If they burn too, I’ll quench them with my tears.

193 “The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm,
194 And lo I lie between that sun and thee:
195 The heat I have from thence doth little harm,
196 Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me;
197 And were I not immortal, life were done,
198 Between this heavenly and earthly sun.

199 “Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel?
200 Nay more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth:
201 Art thou a woman’s son and canst not feel
202 What ’tis to love, how want of love tormenteth?
203 O had thy mother borne so hard a mind,
204 She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind.

205 “What am I that thou shouldst contemn me this?
206 Or what great danger dwells upon my suit?
207 What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss?
208 Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute:
209 Give me one kiss, I’ll give it thee again,
210 And one for int’rest, if thou wilt have twain.

211 “Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,
212 Well-painted idol, image dull and dead,
213 Statue contenting but the eye alone,
214 Thing like a man, but of no woman bred:
215 Thou art no man, though of a man’s complexion,
216 For men will kiss even by their own direction.”

217 This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
218 And swelling passion doth provoke a pause;
219 Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong;
220 Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause.
221 And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak,
222 And now her sobs do her intendments break.

223 Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand,
224 Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground;
225 Sometimes her arms infold him like a band:
226 She would, he will not in her arms be bound;
227 And when from thence he struggles to be gone,
228 She locks her lily fingers one in one.

229 “Fondling,” she saith, “since I have hemm’d thee here
230 Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
231 I’ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
232 Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
233 Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,
234 Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

235 “Within this limit is relief enough,
236 Sweet bottom grass and high delightful plain,
237 Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough,
238 To shelter thee from tempest and from rain:
239 Then be my deer, since I am such a park,
240 No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.”

241 At this Adonis smiles as in disdain,
242 That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple;
243 Love made those hollows, if himself were slain,
244 He might be buried in a tomb so simple;
245 Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,
246 Why there love liv’d, and there he could not die.

247 These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits,
248 Open’d their mouths to swallow Venus’ liking.
249 Being mad before, how doth she now for wits?
250 Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking?
251 Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn,
252 To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn!

253 Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say?
254 Her words are done, her woes the more increasing;
255 The time is spent, her object will away,
256 And from her twining arms doth urge releasing:
257 “Pity,” she cries; “some favour, some remorse!”
258 Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse.

259 But lo from forth a copse that neighbours by,
260 A breeding jennet, lusty, young, and proud,
261 Adonis’ tramping courser doth espy,
262 And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud:
263 The strong-neck’d steed, being tied unto a tree,
264 Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he.

265 Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,
266 And now his woven girths he breaks asunder;
267 The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,
268 Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven’s thunder;
269 The iron bit he crusheth ’tween his teeth,
270 Controlling what he was controlled with.

271 His ears up-prick’d; his braided hanging mane
272 Upon his compass’d crest now stand on end;
273 His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,
274 As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:
275 His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,
276 Shows his hot courage and his high desire.

277 Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps,
278 With gentle majesty and modest pride;
279 Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps,
280 As who should say, “Lo thus my strength is tried;
281 And this I do to captivate the eye
282 Of the fair breeder that is standing by.”

283 What recketh he his rider’s angry stir,
284 His flattering “Holla”, or his “Stand, I say”?
285 What cares he now for curb or pricking spur?
286 For rich caparisons or trappings gay?
287 He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,
288 Nor nothing else with his proud sight agrees.

289 Look when a painter would surpass the life,
290 In limning out a well-proportion’d steed,
291 His art with nature’s workmanship at strife,
292 As if the dead the living should exceed:
293 So did this horse excel a common one,
294 In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.

295 Round-hoof’d, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,
296 Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide,
297 High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong,
298 Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:
299 Look, what a horse should have he did not lack,
300 Save a proud rider on so proud a back.

301 Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares;
302 Anon he starts at stirring of a feather:
303 To bid the wind a base he now prepares,
304 And where he run or fly they know not whether;
305 For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,
306 Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather’d wings.

307 He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her;
308 She answers him as if she knew his mind,
309 Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,
310 She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind,
311 Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels,
312 Beating his kind embracements with her heels.

313 Then like a melancholy malcontent,
314 He vails his tail that like a falling plume,
315 Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent:
316 He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume.
317 His love, perceiving how he was enrag’d,
318 Grew kinder, and his fury was assuag’d.

319 His testy master goeth about to take him,
320 When lo the unback’d breeder, full of fear,
321 Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him,
322 With her the horse, and left Adonis there:
323 As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them,
324 Outstripping crows that strive to overfly them.

325 All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits,
326 Banning his boisterous and unruly beast;
327 And now the happy season once more fits
328 That love-sick love by pleading may be blest;
329 For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong,
330 When it is barr’d the aidance of the tongue.

331 An oven that is stopp’d, or river stay’d,
332 Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage:
333 So of concealed sorrow may be said,
334 Free vent of words love’s fire doth assuage;
335 But when the heart’s attorney once is mute,
336 The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.

337 He sees her coming, and begins to glow,
338 Even as a dying coal revives with wind,
339 And with his bonnet hides his angry brow,
340 Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind,
341 Taking no notice that she is so nigh,
342 For all askance he holds her in his eye.

343 O what a sight it was, wistly to view
344 How she came stealing to the wayward boy,
345 To note the fighting conflict of her hue,
346 How white and red each other did destroy:
347 But now her cheek was pale, and by and by
348 It flash’d forth fire, as lightning from the sky.

349 Now was she just before him as he sat,
350 And like a lowly lover down she kneels;
351 With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat,
352 Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels:
353 His tend’rer cheek receives her soft hand’s print,
354 As apt as new-fall’n snow takes any dint.

355 Oh what a war of looks was then between them,
356 Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing,
357 His eyes saw her eyes, as they had not seen them,
358 Her eyes woo’d still, his eyes disdain’d the wooing:
359 And all this dumb play had his acts made plain
360 With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain.

361 Full gently now she takes him by the hand,
362 A lily prison’d in a gaol of snow,
363 Or ivory in an alabaster band,
364 So white a friend engirts so white a foe:
365 This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
366 Show’d like two silver doves that sit a-billing.

367 Once more the engine of her thoughts began:
368 “O fairest mover on this mortal round,
369 Would thou wert as I am, and I a man,
370 My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound,
371 For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee,
372 Though nothing but my body’s bane would cure thee.”

373 “Give me my hand,” saith he, “why dost thou feel it?”
374 “Give me my heart,” saith she, “and thou shalt have it.
375 O give it me lest thy hard heart do steel it,
376 And being steel’d, soft sighs can never grave it.
377 Then love’s deep groans I never shall regard,
378 Because Adonis’ heart hath made mine hard.”

379 “For shame,” he cries, “let go, and let me go,
380 My day’s delight is past, my horse is gone,
381 And ’tis your fault I am bereft him so,
382 I pray you hence, and leave me here alone,
383 For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,
384 Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.”

385 Thus she replies: “Thy palfrey as he should,
386 Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire,
387 Affection is a coal that must be cool’d;
388 Else, suffer’d, it will set the heart on fire,
389 The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none;
390 Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.

391 “How like a jade he stood tied to the tree,
392 Servilely master’d with a leathern rein!
393 But when he saw his love, his youth’s fair fee,
394 He held such petty bondage in disdain;
395 Throwing the base thong from his bending crest,
396 Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast.

397 “Who sees his true-love in her naked bed,
398 Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,
399 But when his glutton eye so full hath fed,
400 His other agents aim at like delight?
401 Who is so faint that dare not be so bold
402 To touch the fire, the weather being cold?

403 “Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy,
404 And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee,
405 To take advantage on presented joy,
406 Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee.
407 O learn to love, the lesson is but plain,
408 And once made perfect, never lost again.”

409 “I know not love,” quoth he, “nor will not know it,
410 Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it;
411 ’Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it;
412 My love to love is love but to disgrace it;
413 For I have heard, it is a life in death,
414 That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.

415 “Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish’d?
416 Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?
417 If springing things be any jot diminish’d,
418 They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth;
419 The colt that’s back’d and burden’d being young,
420 Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong.

421 “You hurt my hand with wringing. Let us part,
422 And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat:
423 Remove your siege from my unyielding heart,
424 To love’s alarms it will not ope the gate:
425 Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flatt’ry;
426 For where a heart is hard they make no batt’ry.”

427 “What! canst thou talk?” quoth she, “hast thou a tongue?
428 O would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing;
429 Thy mermaid’s voice hath done me double wrong;
430 I had my load before, now press’d with bearing:
431 Melodious discord, heavenly tune, harsh-sounding,
432 Ear’s deep sweet music, and heart’s deep sore wounding.

433 “Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love
434 That inward beauty and invisible;
435 Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move
436 Each part in me that were but sensible:
437 Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,
438 Yet should I be in love by touching thee.

439 “Say that the sense of feeling were bereft me,
440 And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch,
441 And nothing but the very smell were left me,
442 Yet would my love to thee be still as much;
443 For from the stillitory of thy face excelling
444 Comes breath perfum’d, that breedeth love by smelling.

445 “But oh what banquet wert thou to the taste,
446 Being nurse and feeder of the other four;
447 Would they not wish the feast might ever last,
448 And bid suspicion double-lock the door,
449 Lest jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,
450 Should by his stealing in disturb the feast?”

451 Once more the ruby-colour’d portal open’d,
452 Which to his speech did honey passage yield,
453 Like a red morn that ever yet betoken’d
454 Wrack to the seaman, tempest to the field,
455 Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,
456 Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.

457 This ill presage advisedly she marketh:
458 Even as the wind is hush’d before it raineth,
459 Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh,
460 Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,
461 Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,
462 His meaning struck her ere his words begun.

463 And at his look she flatly falleth down
464 For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth;
465 A smile recures the wounding of a frown;
466 But blessed bankrout, that by love so thriveth!
467 The silly boy, believing she is dead,
468 Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red.

469 And all amaz’d brake off his late intent,
470 For sharply he did think to reprehend her,
471 Which cunning love did wittily prevent:
472 Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her!
473 For on the grass she lies as she were slain,
474 Till his breath breatheth life in her again.

475 He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks,
476 He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard,
477 He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks
478 To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr’d:
479 He kisses her; and she, by her good will,
480 Will never rise, so he will kiss her still.

481 The night of sorrow now is turn’d to day:
482 Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth,
483 Like the fair sun when in his fresh array
484 He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth:
485 And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,
486 So is her face illumin’d with her eye.

487 Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix’d,
488 As if from thence they borrow’d all their shine.
489 Were never four such lamps together mix’d,
490 Had not his clouded with his brow’s repine;
491 But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light
492 Shone like the moon in water seen by night.

493 “O where am I?” quoth she, “in earth or heaven?
494 Or in the ocean drench’d, or in the fire?
495 What hour is this? or morn or weary even?
496 Do I delight to die, or life desire?
497 But now I liv’d, and life was death’s annoy;
498 But now I died, and death was lively joy.

499 “O thou didst kill me; kill me once again:
500 Thy eyes’ shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine,
501 Hath taught them scornful tricks, and such disdain,
502 That they have murder’d this poor heart of mine;
503 And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen,
504 But for thy piteous lips no more had seen.

505 “Long may they kiss each other for this cure!
506 Oh never let their crimson liveries wear,
507 And as they last, their verdure still endure,
508 To drive infection from the dangerous year:
509 That the star-gazers, having writ on death,
510 May say, the plague is banish’d by thy breath.

511 “Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted,
512 What bargains may I make, still to be sealing?
513 To sell myself I can be well contented,
514 So thou wilt buy, and pay, and use good dealing;
515 Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips,
516 Set thy seal manual on my wax-red lips.

517 “A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;
518 And pay them at thy leisure, one by one,
519 What is ten hundred touches unto thee?
520 Are they not quickly told and quickly gone?
521 Say, for non-payment that the debt should double,
522 Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?”

523 “Fair queen,” quoth he, “if any love you owe me,
524 Measure my strangeness with my unripe years:
525 Before I know myself, seek not to know me;
526 No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears:
527 The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks fast,
528 Or being early pluck’d, is sour to taste.

529 “Look the world’s comforter, with weary gait
530 His day’s hot task hath ended in the west;
531 The owl, night’s herald, shrieks, ’tis very late;
532 The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest,
533 And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven’s light
534 Do summon us to part, and bid good night.

535 “Now let me say good night, and so say you;
536 If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.”
537 “Good night,” quoth she; and ere he says adieu,
538 The honey fee of parting tender’d is:
539 Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace;
540 Incorporate then they seem, face grows to face.

541 Till breathless he disjoin’d, and backward drew
542 The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,
543 Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew,
544 Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drouth,
545 He with her plenty press’d, she faint with dearth,
546 Their lips together glued, fall to the earth.

547 Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey,
548 And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth;
549 Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,
550 Paying what ransom the insulter willeth;
551 Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high,
552 That she will draw his lips’ rich treasure dry.

553 And having felt the sweetness of the spoil,
554 With blindfold fury she begins to forage;
555 Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil,
556 And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage,
557 Planting oblivion, beating reason back,
558 Forgetting shame’s pure blush and honour’s wrack.

559 Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing,
560 Like a wild bird being tam’d with too much handling,
561 Or as the fleet-foot roe that’s tir’d with chasing,
562 Or like the froward infant still’d with dandling:
563 He now obeys, and now no more resisteth,
564 While she takes all she can, not all she listeth.

565 What wax so frozen but dissolves with temp’ring,
566 And yields at last to every light impression?
567 Things out of hope are compass’d oft with vent’ring,
568 Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission:
569 Affection faints not like a pale-fac’d coward,
570 But then woos best when most his choice is froward.

571 When he did frown, O had she then gave over,
572 Such nectar from his lips she had not suck’d.
573 Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover;
574 What though the rose have prickles, yet ’tis pluck’d.
575 Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast,
576 Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last.

577 For pity now she can no more detain him;
578 The poor fool prays her that he may depart:
579 She is resolv’d no longer to restrain him,
580 Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart,
581 The which by Cupid’s bow she doth protest,
582 He carries thence encaged in his breast.

583 “Sweet boy,” she says, “this night I’ll waste in sorrow,
584 For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch.
585 Tell me, love’s master, shall we meet tomorrow
586 Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match?”
587 He tells her no, tomorrow he intends
588 To hunt the boar with certain of his friends.

589 “The boar!” quoth she; whereat a sudden pale,
590 Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose,
591 Usurps her cheek, she trembles at his tale,
592 And on his neck her yoking arms she throws.
593 She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck,
594 He on her belly falls, she on her back.

595 Now is she in the very lists of love,
596 Her champion mounted for the hot encounter:
597 All is imaginary she doth prove,
598 He will not manage her, although he mount her;
599 That worse than Tantalus’ is her annoy,
600 To clip Elysium and to lack her joy.

601 Even as poor birds, deceiv’d with painted grapes,
602 Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw:
603 Even so she languisheth in her mishaps,
604 As those poor birds that helpless berries saw.
605 The warm effects which she in him finds missing,
606 She seeks to kindle with continual kissing.

607 But all in vain, good queen, it will not be,
608 She hath assay’d as much as may be prov’d;
609 Her pleading hath deserv’d a greater fee;
610 She’s love, she loves, and yet she is not lov’d.
611 “Fie, fie,” he says, “you crush me; let me go;
612 You have no reason to withhold me so.”

613 “Thou hadst been gone,” quoth she, “sweet boy, ere this,
614 But that thou told’st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.
615 Oh be advis’d; thou know’st not what it is,
616 With javelin’s point a churlish swine to gore,
617 Whose tushes never sheath’d he whetteth still,
618 Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill.

619 “On his bow-back he hath a battle set
620 Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;
621 His eyes like glow-worms shine when he doth fret;
622 His snout digs sepulchres where’er he goes;
623 Being mov’d, he strikes whate’er is in his way,
624 And whom he strikes his crooked tushes slay.

625 “His brawny sides, with hairy bristles armed,
626 Are better proof than thy spear’s point can enter;
627 His short thick neck cannot be easily harmed;
628 Being ireful, on the lion he will venture:
629 The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,
630 As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.

631 “Alas! he naught esteems that face of thine,
632 To which love’s eyes pay tributary gazes;
633 Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips, and crystal eyne,
634 Whose full perfection all the world amazes;
635 But having thee at vantage, wondrous dread!
636 Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.

637 “Oh let him keep his loathsome cabin still,
638 Beauty hath naught to do with such foul fiends:
639 Come not within his danger by thy will;
640 They that thrive well, take counsel of their friends.
641 When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,
642 I fear’d thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.

643 “Didst thou not mark my face, was it not white?
644 Saw’st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye?
645 Grew I not faint, and fell I not downright?
646 Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie,
647 My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest,
648 But like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast.

649 “For where love reigns, disturbing jealousy
650 Doth call himself affection’s sentinel;
651 Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny,
652 And in a peaceful hour doth cry “Kill, kill!”
653 Distemp’ring gentle love in his desire,
654 As air and water do abate the fire.

655 “This sour informer, this bate-breeding spy,
656 This canker that eats up love’s tender spring,
657 This carry-tale, dissentious jealousy,
658 That sometime true news, sometime false doth bring,
659 Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine ear,
660 That if I love thee, I thy death should fear.

661 “And more than so, presenteth to mine eye
662 The picture of an angry chafing boar,
663 Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie
664 An image like thyself, all stain’d with gore;
665 Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed,
666 Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head.

667 “What should I do, seeing thee so indeed,
668 That tremble at th’imagination?
669 The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed,
670 And fear doth teach it divination:
671 I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow,
672 If thou encounter with the boar tomorrow.

673 “But if thou needs wilt hunt, be rul’d by me;
674 Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,
675 Or at the fox which lives by subtilty,
676 Or at the roe which no encounter dare:
677 Pursue these fearful creatures o’er the downs,
678 And on thy well-breath’d horse keep with thy hounds.

679 “And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,
680 Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles
681 How he outruns the wind, and with what care
682 He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:
683 The many musits through the which he goes
684 Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.

685 “Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep,
686 To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell,
687 And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,
688 To stop the loud pursuers in their yell,
689 And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer;
690 Danger deviseth shifts, wit waits on fear.

691 “For there his smell with others being mingled,
692 The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt,
693 Ceasing their clamorous cry, till they have singled
694 With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;
695 Then do they spend their mouths: echo replies,
696 As if another chase were in the skies.

697 “By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,
698 Stands on his hinder legs with list’ning ear,
699 To hearken if his foes pursue him still.
700 Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;
701 And now his grief may be compared well
702 To one sore sick that hears the passing bell.

703 “Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch
704 Turn, and return, indenting with the way,
705 Each envious briar his weary legs do scratch,
706 Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:
707 For misery is trodden on by many,
708 And being low never reliev’d by any.

709 “Lie quietly, and hear a little more;
710 Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise:
711 To make thee hate the hunting of the boar,
712 Unlike myself thou hear’st me moralize,
713 Applying this to that, and so to so,
714 For love can comment upon every woe.

715 “Where did I leave?” “No matter where,” quoth he
716 “Leave me, and then the story aptly ends:
717 The night is spent.” “Why, what of that?” quoth she.
718 “I am,” quoth he, “expected of my friends;
719 And now ’tis dark, and going I shall fall.”
720 “In night,” quoth she, “desire sees best of all.”

721 But if thou fall, oh then imagine this,
722 The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips,
723 And all is but to rob thee of a kiss.
724 Rich preys make true men thieves; so do thy lips
725 Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn,
726 Lest she should steal a kiss and die forsworn.

727 “Now of this dark night I perceive the reason:
728 Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine
729 Till forging nature be condemn’d of treason,
730 For stealing moulds from heaven, that were divine;
731 Wherein she fram’d thee, in high heaven’s despite,
732 To shame the sun by day and her by night.

733 “And therefore hath she brib’d the destinies,
734 To cross the curious workmanship of nature,
735 To mingle beauty with infirmities,
736 And pure perfection with impure defeature,
737 Making it subject to the tyranny
738 Of mad mischances and much misery.

739 “As burning fevers, agues pale and faint,
740 Life-poisoning pestilence and frenzies wood,
741 The marrow-eating sickness, whose attaint
742 Disorder breeds by heating of the blood;
743 Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn’d despair,
744 Swear nature’s death, for framing thee so fair.

745 “And not the least of all these maladies
746 But in one minute’s fight brings beauty under:
747 Both favour, savour, hue and qualities,
748 Whereat th’impartial gazer late did wonder,
749 Are on the sudden wasted, thaw’d and done,
750 As mountain snow melts with the midday sun.

751 “Therefore despite of fruitless chastity,
752 Love-lacking vestals and self-loving nuns,
753 That on the earth would breed a scarcity
754 And barren dearth of daughters and of sons,
755 Be prodigal: the lamp that burns by night
756 Dries up his oil to lend the world his light.

757 “What is thy body but a swallowing grave,
758 Seeming to bury that posterity,
759 Which by the rights of time thou needs must have,
760 If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity?
761 If so, the world will hold thee in disdain,
762 Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain.

763 “So in thyself thyself art made away;
764 A mischief worse than civil home-bred strife,
765 Or theirs whose desperate hands themselves do slay,
766 Or butcher sire that reeves his son of life.
767 Foul cank’ring rust the hidden treasure frets,
768 But gold that’s put to use more gold begets.”

769 “Nay then,” quoth Adon, “you will fall again
770 Into your idle over-handled theme;
771 The kiss I gave you is bestow’d in vain,
772 And all in vain you strive against the stream;
773 For by this black-fac’d night, desire’s foul nurse,
774 Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse.

775 “If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues,
776 And every tongue more moving than your own,
777 Bewitching like the wanton mermaid’s songs,
778 Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown;
779 For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear,
780 And will not let a false sound enter there.

781 “Lest the deceiving harmony should run
782 Into the quiet closure of my breast,
783 And then my little heart were quite undone,
784 In his bedchamber to be barr’d of rest.
785 No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan,
786 But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone.

787 “What have you urg’d that I cannot reprove?
788 The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger;
789 I hate not love, but your device in love
790 That lends embracements unto every stranger.
791 You do it for increase: O strange excuse!
792 When reason is the bawd to lust’s abuse.

793 “Call it not, love, for love to heaven is fled,
794 Since sweating lust on earth usurp’d his name;
795 Under whose simple semblance he hath fed
796 Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame;
797 Which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves,
798 As caterpillars do the tender leaves.

799 “Love comforteth like sunshine after rain,
800 But lust’s effect is tempest after sun;
801 Love’s gentle spring doth always fresh remain,
802 Lust’s winter comes ere summer half be done.
803 Love surfeits not, lust like a glutton dies;
804 Love is all truth, lust full of forged lies.

805 “More I could tell, but more I dare not say;
806 The text is old, the orator too green.
807 Therefore, in sadness, now I will away;
808 My face is full of shame, my heart of teen,
809 Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended
810 Do burn themselves for having so offended.”

811 With this he breaketh from the sweet embrace
812 Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast,
813 And homeward through the dark laund runs apace;
814 Leaves love upon her back deeply distress’d.
815 Look how a bright star shooteth from the sky,
816 So glides he in the night from Venus’ eye.

817 Which after him she darts, as one on shore
818 Gazing upon a late embarked friend,
819 Till the wild waves will have him seen no more,
820 Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend:
821 So did the merciless and pitchy night
822 Fold in the object that did feed her sight.

823 Whereat amaz’d, as one that unaware
824 Hath dropp’d a precious jewel in the flood,
825 Or ’stonish’d as night-wanderers often are,
826 Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood;
827 Even so confounded in the dark she lay,
828 Having lost the fair discovery of her way.

829 And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans,
830 That all the neighbour caves, as seeming troubled,
831 Make verbal repetition of her moans;
832 Passion on passion deeply is redoubled:
833 “Ay me!” she cries, and twenty times, “Woe, woe!”
834 And twenty echoes twenty times cry so.

835 She marking them, begins a wailing note,
836 And sings extemporally a woeful ditty;
837 How love makes young men thrall, and old men dote,
838 How love is wise in folly foolish witty:
839 Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe,
840 And still the choir of echoes answer so.

841 Her song was tedious, and outwore the night,
842 For lovers’ hours are long, though seeming short,
843 If pleas’d themselves, others they think, delight
844 In such like circumstance, with such like sport:
845 Their copious stories oftentimes begun,
846 End without audience, and are never done.

847 For who hath she to spend the night withal,
848 But idle sounds resembling parasites;
849 Like shrill-tongu’d tapsters answering every call,
850 Soothing the humour of fantastic wits?
851 She says, “’Tis so:” they answer all, “’Tis so;”
852 And would say after her, if she said “No.”

853 Lo here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
854 From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
855 And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
856 The sun ariseth in his majesty;
857 Who doth the world so gloriously behold,
858 That cedar tops and hills seem burnish’d gold.

859 Venus salutes him with this fair good morrow:
860 “Oh thou clear god, and patron of all light,
861 From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow
862 The beauteous influence that makes him bright,
863 There lives a son that suck’d an earthly mother,
864 May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other.”

865 This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove,
866 Musing the morning is so much o’erworn,
867 And yet she hears no tidings of her love;
868 She hearkens for his hounds and for his horn.
869 Anon she hears them chant it lustily,
870 And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.

871 And as she runs, the bushes in the way
872 Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face,
873 Some twine about her thigh to make her stay:
874 She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace,
875 Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ache,
876 Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake.

877 By this she hears the hounds are at a bay,
878 Whereat she starts like one that spies an adder
879 Wreath’d up in fatal folds just in his way,
880 The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder;
881 Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds
882 Appals her senses, and her spirit confounds.

883 For now she knows it is no gentle chase,
884 But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud,
885 Because the cry remaineth in one place,
886 Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud,
887 Finding their enemy to be so curst,
888 They all strain court’sy who shall cope him first.

889 This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear,
890 Through which it enters to surprise her heart;
891 Who overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,
892 With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part;
893 Like soldiers when their captain once doth yield,
894 They basely fly and dare not stay the field.

895 Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy,
896 Till cheering up her senses sore dismay’d,
897 She tells them ’tis a causeless fantasy,
898 And childish error, that they are afraid;
899 Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no more:
900 And with that word, she spied the hunted boar.

901 Whose frothy mouth bepainted all with red,
902 Like milk and blood being mingled both together,
903 A second fear through all her sinews spread,
904 Which madly hurries her she knows not whither:
905 This way she runs, and now she will no further,
906 But back retires, to rate the boar for murther.

907 A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways,
908 She treads the path that she untreads again;
909 Her more than haste is mated with delays,
910 Like the proceedings of a drunken brain,
911 Full of respects, yet naught at all respecting,
912 In hand with all things, naught at all effecting.

913 Here kennel’d in a brake she finds a hound,
914 And asks the weary caitiff for his master,
915 And there another licking of his wound,
916 ’Gainst venom’d sores the only sovereign plaster.
917 And here she meets another sadly scowling,
918 To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling.

919 When he hath ceas’d his ill-resounding noise,
920 Another flap-mouth’d mourner, black and grim,
921 Against the welkin volleys out his voice;
922 Another and another answer him,
923 Clapping their proud tails to the ground below,
924 Shaking their scratch’d ears, bleeding as they go.

925 Look how the world’s poor people are amazed
926 At apparitions, signs, and prodigies,
927 Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gazed,
928 Infusing them with dreadful prophecies;
929 So she at these sad sighs draws up her breath,
930 And sighing it again, exclaims on death.

931 “Hard-favour’d tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean,
932 Hateful divorce of love,” thus chides she death,
933 “Grim-grinning ghost, earth’s worm, what dost thou mean?
934 To stifle beauty and to steal his breath,
935 Who when he liv’d, his breath and beauty set
936 Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet.

937 “If he be dead, O no, it cannot be,
938 Seeing his beauty, thou shouldst strike at it,
939 O yes, it may, thou hast no eyes to see,
940 But hatefully at random dost thou hit.
941 Thy mark is feeble age, but thy false dart
942 Mistakes that aim, and cleaves an infant’s heart.

943 “Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke,
944 And hearing him, thy power had lost his power.
945 The destinies will curse thee for this stroke;
946 They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck’st a flower.
947 Love’s golden arrow at him should have fled,
948 And not death’s ebon dart to strike him dead.

949 “Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok’st such weeping?
950 What may a heavy groan advantage thee?
951 Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping
952 Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see?
953 Now nature cares not for thy mortal vigour,
954 Since her best work is ruin’d with thy rigour.”

955 Here overcome, as one full of despair,
956 She vail’d her eyelids, who like sluices stopp’d
957 The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair
958 In the sweet channel of her bosom dropp’d
959 But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain,
960 And with his strong course opens them again.

961 O how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow;
962 Her eyes seen in the tears, tears in her eye;
963 Both crystals, where they view’d each other’s sorrow,
964 Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry;
965 But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain,
966 Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again.

967 Variable passions throng her constant woe,
968 As striving who should best become her grief;
969 All entertain’d, each passion labours so,
970 That every present sorrow seemeth chief,
971 But none is best, then join they all together,
972 Like many clouds consulting for foul weather.

973 By this, far off she hears some huntsman holla;
974 A nurse’s song ne’er pleas’d her babe so well:
975 The dire imagination she did follow
976 This sound of hope doth labour to expel;
977 For now reviving joy bids her rejoice,
978 And flatters her it is Adonis’ voice.

979 Whereat her tears began to turn their tide,
980 Being prison’d in her eye, like pearls in glass;
981 Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside,
982 Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass
983 To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground,
984 Who is but drunken when she seemeth drown’d.

985 O hard-believing love, how strange it seems
986 Not to believe, and yet too credulous;
987 Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes;
988 Despair and hope make thee ridiculous,
989 The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely,
990 In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly.

991 Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought,
992 Adonis lives, and death is not to blame;
993 It was not she that call’d him all to naught;
994 Now she adds honours to his hateful name.
995 She clepes him king of graves, and grave for kings,
996 Imperious supreme of all mortal things.

997 “No, no,” quoth she, “sweet death, I did but jest;
998 Yet pardon me, I felt a kind of fear
999 Whenas I met the boar, that bloody beast,
1000 Which knows no pity, but is still severe;
1001 Then, gentle shadow,—truth I must confess—
1002 I rail’d on thee, fearing my love’s decease.

1003 “’Tis not my fault, the boar provok’d my tongue;
1004 Be wreak’d on him, invisible commander;
1005 ’Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong;
1006 I did but act, he’s author of my slander.
1007 Grief hath two tongues, and never woman yet,
1008 Could rule them both, without ten women’s wit.”

1009 Thus hoping that Adonis is alive,
1010 Her rash suspect she doth extenuate;
1011 And that his beauty may the better thrive,
1012 With death she humbly doth insinuate;
1013 Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs and stories
1014 His victories, his triumphs and his glories.

1015 “O love!” quoth she, “how much a fool was I,
1016 To be of such a weak and silly mind,
1017 To wail his death who lives, and must not die
1018 Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind;
1019 For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,
1020 And beauty dead, black Chaos comes again.

1021 “Fie, fie, fond love, thou art as full of fear
1022 As one with treasure laden, hemm’d with thieves,
1023 Trifles unwitnessed with eye or ear,
1024 Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.”
1025 Even at this word she hears a merry horn,
1026 Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn.

1027 As falcon to the lure, away she flies;
1028 The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light,
1029 And in her haste unfortunately spies
1030 The foul boar’s conquest on her fair delight;
1031 Which seen, her eyes, as murder’d with the view,
1032 Like stars asham’d of day, themselves withdrew.

1033 Or as the snail, whose tender horns being hit,
1034 Shrinks backwards in his shelly cave with pain,
1035 And there all smother’d up, in shade doth sit,
1036 Long after fearing to creep forth again:
1037 So at his bloody view her eyes are fled
1038 Into the deep dark cabins of her head.

1039 Where they resign their office and their light
1040 To the disposing of her troubled brain,
1041 Who bids them still consort with ugly night,
1042 And never wound the heart with looks again;
1043 Who like a king perplexed in his throne,
1044 By their suggestion gives a deadly groan.

1045 Whereat each tributary subject quakes,
1046 As when the wind imprison’d in the ground,
1047 Struggling for passage, earth’s foundation shakes,
1048 Which with cold terror doth men’s minds confound.
1049 This mutiny each part doth so surprise
1050 That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes.

1051 And being open’d, threw unwilling light
1052 Upon the wide wound that the boar had trench’d
1053 In his soft flank, whose wonted lily white
1054 With purple tears that his wound wept, was drench’d.
1055 No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf or weed,
1056 But stole his blood and seem’d with him to bleed.

1057 This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth,
1058 Over one shoulder doth she hang her head,
1059 Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth;
1060 She thinks he could not die, he is not dead:
1061 Her voice is stopp’d, her joints forget to bow,
1062 Her eyes are mad, that they have wept till now.

1063 Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly,
1064 That her sight dazzling makes the wound seem three;
1065 And then she reprehends her mangling eye,
1066 That makes more gashes, where no breach should be:
1067 His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled,
1068 For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.

1069 “My tongue cannot express my grief for one,
1070 And yet,” quoth she, “behold two Adons dead!
1071 My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone,
1072 Mine eyes are turn’d to fire, my heart to lead:
1073 Heavy heart’s lead, melt at mine eyes’ red fire!
1074 So shall I die by drops of hot desire.

1075 “Alas poor world, what treasure hast thou lost!
1076 What face remains alive that’s worth the viewing?
1077 Whose tongue is music now? what canst thou boast
1078 Of things long since, or anything ensuing?
1079 The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim,
1080 But true sweet beauty liv’d and died with him.

1081 “Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear!
1082 Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you:
1083 Having no fair to lose, you need not fear;
1084 The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth hiss you.
1085 But when Adonis liv’d, sun and sharp air
1086 Lurk’d like two thieves, to rob him of his fair.

1087 “And therefore would he put his bonnet on,
1088 Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep;
1089 The wind would blow it off, and being gone,
1090 Play with his locks; then would Adonis weep;
1091 And straight, in pity of his tender years,
1092 They both would strive who first should dry his tears.

1093 “To see his face the lion walk’d along
1094 Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him;
1095 To recreate himself when he hath sung,
1096 The tiger would be tame and gently hear him.
1097 If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey,
1098 And never fright the silly lamb that day.

1099 “When he beheld his shadow in the brook,
1100 The fishes spread on it their golden gills;
1101 When he was by, the birds such pleasure took,
1102 That some would sing, some other in their bills
1103 Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries,
1104 He fed them with his sight, they him with berries.

1105 “But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar,
1106 Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave,
1107 Ne’er saw the beauteous livery that he wore;
1108 Witness the entertainment that he gave.
1109 If he did see his face, why then I know
1110 He thought to kiss him, and hath kill’d him so.

1111 “’Tis true, ’tis true; thus was Adonis slain:
1112 He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear,
1113 Who did not whet his teeth at him again,
1114 But by a kiss thought to persuade him there;
1115 And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine
1116 Sheath’d unaware the tusk in his soft groin.

1117 “Had I been tooth’d like him, I must confess,
1118 With kissing him I should have kill’d him first;
1119 But he is dead, and never did he bless
1120 My youth with his; the more am I accurst.”
1121 With this she falleth in the place she stood,
1122 And stains her face with his congealed blood.

1123 She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
1124 She takes him by the hand, and that is cold,
1125 She whispers in his ears a heavy tale,
1126 As if they heard the woeful words she told;
1127 She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes,
1128 Where lo, two lamps burnt out in darkness lies.

1129 Two glasses where herself herself beheld
1130 A thousand times, and now no more reflect;
1131 Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell’d,
1132 And every beauty robb’d of his effect.
1133 “Wonder of time,” quoth she, “this is my spite,
1134 That thou being dead, the day should yet be light.

1135 “Since thou art dead, lo here I prophesy,
1136 Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend:
1137 It shall be waited on with jealousy,
1138 Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end;
1139 Ne’er settled equally, but high or low,
1140 That all love’s pleasure shall not match his woe.

1141 “It shall be fickle, false and full of fraud,
1142 Bud, and be blasted in a breathing while;
1143 The bottom poison, and the top o’erstraw’d
1144 With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile.
1145 The strongest body shall it make most weak,
1146 Strike the wise dumb, and teach the fool to speak.

1147 “It shall be sparing, and too full of riot,
1148 Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures;
1149 The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet,
1150 Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures;
1151 It shall be raging mad, and silly mild,
1152 Make the young old, the old become a child.

1153 “It shall suspect where is no cause of fear,
1154 It shall not fear where it should most mistrust;
1155 It shall be merciful, and too severe,
1156 And most deceiving when it seems most just;
1157 Perverse it shall be, where it shows most toward,
1158 Put fear to valour, courage to the coward.

1159 “It shall be cause of war and dire events,
1160 And set dissension ’twixt the son and sire;
1161 Subject and servile to all discontents,
1162 As dry combustious matter is to fire,
1163 Sith in his prime death doth my love destroy,
1164 They that love best their love shall not enjoy.”

1165 By this the boy that by her side lay kill’d
1166 Was melted like a vapour from her sight,
1167 And in his blood that on the ground lay spill’d,
1168 A purple flower sprung up, chequer’d with white,
1169 Resembling well his pale cheeks, and the blood
1170 Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood.

1171 She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell,
1172 Comparing it to her Adonis’ breath;
1173 And says within her bosom it shall dwell,
1174 Since he himself is reft from her by death;
1175 She drops the stalk, and in the breach appears
1176 Green-dropping sap, which she compares to tears.

1177 “Poor flower,” quoth she, “this was thy father’s guise,
1178 Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire,
1179 For every little grief to wet his eyes,
1180 To grow unto himself was his desire,
1181 And so ’tis thine; but know, it is as good
1182 To wither in my breast as in his blood.

1183 “Here was thy father’s bed, here in my breast;
1184 Thou art the next of blood, and ’tis thy right:
1185 Lo in this hollow cradle take thy rest,
1186 My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night:
1187 There shall not be one minute in an hour
1188 Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love’s flower.”

1189 Thus weary of the world, away she hies,
1190 And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid
1191 Their mistress mounted through the empty skies,
1192 In her light chariot quickly is convey’d;
1193 Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen
1194 Means to immure herself and not be seen.