« НазадПродовжити »
Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not,
To put fair truth upon so foul a face + ?
In things right true my heart and eyes have err'd,
And to this false plague are they now transferr’d.
When my love fwears s that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know the lies ;
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtilties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although the knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her falle-speaking tongue ;
On both sides thus is simple truth suppreft,
But wherefore says she not, she is unjuft?
And wherefore fay not I, that I am old?
O love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years tolde
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
• To put fair truth upon fo foul a face? ] So, in Macbeib:
6. False face must hide what the false heart doth know."
s When my love fwears &c.] This Sonnet is also found (with
some variations) in The Passionate Pilgrim, a collection of verses
printed as Shakspeare's in 1599. It there ftands thus :
" When my love swears that she is made of truth,
“ I do believe her, though I know the lies ;
5. That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
“ Unskilfull in the world's false forgeries,
“ Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
" Although I know my years be past the best,
“ I smiling credit her false speaking tongue,
" Out-facing faults in love with love's ill reft.
“ But wherefore says my love that she is young
s! And wherefore fay not I that I am old ?
« 0, love's beft habit is a foothing tongne,
in love loves not to have years told.
96 Therefore I'll lie with love, and love with me,
" Since that our faults in love thus fmotber'd be."
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
power, and Day me not by art.
Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in my light,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside.
What need’st thou wound with cunning, when thy
Is more than my o'er-press'd defence can 'bide ?
Let me excuse thee : ah! my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies;
And therefore from my face the turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries :
Yet do not fo ; but since I am near Alain,
Kill me out-right with looks, and rid my pain.
Be wise as thou art cruel ; do not press
My tongue-ty'd patience with too much disdain ;
Left forrow lend me words, and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me fo* ;
(As tefty fick 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 :
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
Mad Nanderers by mad ears believed be.
• Wound me not avith thine eye, - ] Thus, in Romeo and Juliet: * - he's already dead; fabl’d with a white wench’s black
MALONE. Wound me not witbrine cye, but swith tly tongue ;] So, in K, Henry VI. P. III: "Ah, kill me with thy weapons, not thy words."
STEEVINS. * - to tell me so,] To tell me, thou dost love me. Malone,
That I may not be fo, nor thou bely'd,
Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart
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 pleas'd to dote.
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted;
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,
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud heart's flave and vaffal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That the that makes me sin, awards me pain.
Love is my fin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:
O bụt 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,
That have prophan'd their scarlet ornaments,
? Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.) That is, (as it is expresied in a former Sonnet) “ Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place.”
MALONE. But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade- -) That is, but neither my wits nor senses can &c. So, in Measure for Measure:
" More nor less to others paying“ The wits, Dr. Johnson observes, seem to have been reckon, ed five, by analogy to the five senses, or the five inlets of ideas. Wit in our author's time was the general term for the intellectual power.” MALONE.
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 lov'st those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine impòrtune thee:
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows,
Thy pity may deserve to picy'd be.
If thou doft seek to have what thou dofthide,
By self-example may'lt thou be deny'd !
Lo as a careful house-wife 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 chace,
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 run'st thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilst I thy babe chace thee afar behind;
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind :
So will I
pray that thou may'st have thy Will, If thou turn back, and my loud crying still 3.
CXLIV. 9 And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine ;] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis:
" Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted,
" What bargains may I make, ftill to be fealing?" Again, in Measure for Measure :
66 Take, O take those lips away,
u That so sweetly were forsworn, -
" But my kiffes bring in again,
" Seals of love, but seald in vain.” MALONE. · Robb’d others' beds revenues of their rents,] So, in Othello :
" And pour our treasures into foreign laps." STEEVENS. ? Not prizing her poor infant's discontent;) Not regarding, not making any account of her child's uneasiness. Malone.
that thou may' have thy Will, If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.] The image with which this Sonnet begins, is at once pleafıng and natural; but the conclusion of it is lame and impotent indeed. We attend
Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me ftill * ;
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit
, a woman, colour'd ill.
To win me foon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side 5,
And would corrupt my faint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her 'foul prideó.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;
But being both from me ?, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another's hell.
Yet this thall I ne'er know $, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out'.
Those lips that Love's own hand did make te
Breath'd forth the sound that said, I hate,
To me that languish'd for her fake :
But when she saw my woeful state,
to the cries of the infant, but laugh at the loud blubberings of the great boy Will. STEEVENS.
* -do fuggest me fill;) See p. 474. note 3. MALONE.
+ Two loves I have &c.] This Sonnet was printed in The Palo fionate Pilgrim, 1599, with some flight variations. MALONE,
5 Tempteth my bryter angel from my side,] The quarto hasfrom my sight. The true reading is found in The Passionatz Pilgrim. MALONE. Tempteth any better angel from my fide,] So, in Othello :
“ Yea, curse his better angel from his fide." STEETENS. 6 —cvitb ber foul pride.] The copy in Tbe Paffionate Pilgrima has — with her fair pride. MALONE. ? But being both from nie, The Passionate Pilgrim reads
MALONE, s Yet this shall I ne'er knov,-The Passionate Pilgrim teads:
The truth I fall not know- MALONE. • Till my bad angel fire my good one out.) So, in K. Lear :
and fire us hence, like foxes." STEEVENS, * Those lips that Love's own hand did make,]
Quinta parte sui nectaris imbuit. Hor, MALONE,