SHAKSPEARE'S POETICAL WORKS. VENUS AND ADONIS. 'Vilia miretur vulgus, mihi flavus Apollo Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'-OVID. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TITCHFIELD. Right HONOURABLE,—I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your Lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burthen: only if your Honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a godfather, and never after ear1 so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your Honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish, and the world's hopeful expectation. Your Honour's in all duty, WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 1 EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face 2 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; Nature that made thee, with herself at strife, Saith that the world hath ending with thy life. 3 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; 4 And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety, But rather famish them amid their plenty, 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.' 5 With this, she seizeth on his sweating palm, Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good : Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force, Courageously to pluck him from his horse. 6 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. 7 The studded bridle on a ragged bough To tie the rider she begins to prove : 8 So soon was she along, as he was down, Each leaning on their elbows and their hips: 9 He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks: Then with her windy sighs, and golden hairs, 1 To fan and blow them dry again she seeks: 10 Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, Tires 2 with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone, Till either gorge be stuff'd, or prey be gone; 11 Forced to content, but never to obey, Panting he lies, and breatheth in her face; ''Miss:' amiss, misbehaviour. 2 Tires: a hawking term tears, preys on. - Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers, 12 Look how a bird lies tangled in a net, So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies; Pure shame and awed resistance made him Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes: Perforce will force it overflow the bank. 13 Still she entreats, and prettily entreats, For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale; Still is he sullen, still he lowers 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. 14 Look how he can, she cannot choose but love; And by her fair immortal band she swears 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. 15 Upon this promise did he raise his chin, Like a dive-dapper 2 peering through a wave, So offers he to give what she did crave; ''Rank:' full.-2 Dive-dapper:' the dab-chick. 16 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: 'Oh pity,' 'gan she cry, 'flint-hearted boy! "Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy? 17 I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, Who conquers where he comes, in every jar; 18 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, 19 Thus he that overruled, I oversway'd, Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain: Oh be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, 20 Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine, What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head; |