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THE POEMS OF
SHAKESPEARE

/
Vilia miretur vulgus: mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua,
Ovid.

Ho, ye that wail, and ye that sing, make way

Till Ibe come among you.. Hide your tears
Ye little weepers.

In his heart is a blind desire,

In his eyes foreknowledge of death.
Swinburne.
 M

THE POEMS
OF

SHAKESPEARE
EDITED
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
AND NOTES BY

GEORGE WYNDHAM

METHUEN AND CO.

36 ESSEX STREET : STRAND
LONDON
1898
Edinb.r B h : T. and A.
COKSTA.LE, Printers ,o Her
M,j, y
 TO

MY MO T HER
 X

CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
PAGE
V I. THE CHARACTERISTICS OF SHAKESPKARfi's POEMS vii

II. BOYHOOD IN WARWICKSHIRE

ADVENT TO LONDON
.... xviii

LETTERS AND THE STAGE XXVI

.....
III. : .

IV. POLITICS ON THE STAGE XXX

V. THE COURT AND NOBLE PATRONS xxxvi
MARTIN MARPRELATE AND RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY
..... xlvii
VI.

VII. THE UNIVERSITY PENS 111

THE POETOMACHIA ...

VIII.

ix.

X.
.....
SHAKESPEARE'S SHOP
.....
LAST DAYS AND DEATH
.

Ixxiii
Iv

Ixx

THE DETACHMENT OF SHAKESPEARE'S POEMS

Nf XI.

Sxu} VENUS AND

XIII.
......
ADONIS
.....
THE RAPE OF LUCRECE
Ixxvii
-,
Ixxix
-
.

xciii
r>

THE SONNETS AND SONNETEERING

XIV.

. SONNET-GROUPS ......
......
cviii
ci

IS
XVI.

XVII. IMAGERY .......

THEMES OF THE SONNETS

.....
cxvi

cxxxii

ex xx vii
XVIII.

XIX. VERBAL MELODY

XX. CONCLUSION
......
ELOQUENT DISCOURSE

....... cxxxix

THE TEXT-
VENUS AND ADONIS \ . .
* V
THE RAPE OF LUCRECE .
43
SONNETS . ... .
^..,.
'

A LOVER'S COMPLAINT . . . .
193
vi CONTENTS
NOTES
Venus and Adonis
I.

II.
THE TEXT ....
THE USE OF THE APOSTROPHE AS A GUIDE TO THE
PAGE
2O9

METRICAL PRONUNCIATION . . .
2OQ
III. THE USE OF CAPITALS . . 2IO
IV. DATE OF THE COMPOSITION OF VENUS AND ADONIS . 2IO
V. NOTES ON THE TEXT ->Vl7lWl..l 2IO

The Rape of' Literece

I. THE TEXT . . . . . . .
-

.; t ;..
.

223
II. THE USE OF THE APOSTROPHE AS A GUIDE TO THE
METRICAL PRONUNCIATION . . .
, 223
III. THE USE OF CAPITALS . . '
"f i
22 3
IV. NOTES ON THE TEXT . . . 22 5
-'., M^^V

The Sonnets
I.

II.
THE TEXT ........
EARLY EDITIONS OF THE SONNETS . . . ..
242
242
III. THE DATE OF THE SONNETS* COMPOSITION . .
244
IV. THE RIVAL POETS . . . . . .
250
V. THE TYPOGRAPHY OF THE QUARTO (1609), CON
SIDERED IN ITS BEARING ON THE AUTHORITY
OF THAT TEXT,, WITH AN ANALYSIS OF THE
SYSTEM OF PUNCTUATION OBSERVED THEREIN 2 59
VI. THE USE OF THE APOSTROPHE AS A GUIDE TO THE
METRICAL PRONUNCIATION . . .
269
VII. NOTES ON THE TEXT
269

A Lover's Complaint
I. THE TEXT . . . . . . . t '-5
II. NOTES ON THE TEXT
336
 INTRODUCTION
i

MODERN have found it convenient to preserve the

critics

classification ofpoetry which their predecessors borrowed from

the ancients at the Revival of Learning. But, in order to
illustrate his theory, each has been forced to define anew such

epic/ and the terms, in consequence

' ' '
terms as lyric,' elegiac/
of these repeated attempts, have at last ceased to be definite.

Now, despite this shifting indefiniteness, when we say of any

poetry that it is lyrical and elegiac, we are understood to mean
that it deals with emotion rather than with doctrine or drama ;
and further, that its merit lies, not so much in the exclusive
delineation of any one emotional experience as, in the suggestion,

by beautiful imagery and musical sound, of those aspirations

and regrets which find a voice but little less articulate in
the sister-art of music. Narrowing the definition, we may say
that the best lyrical and elegiac poetry expresses, by both its

meaning and its movement, the quintessence of man's desire for

Beauty, abstracted from concrete and transitory embodiments.
'
The matter in such poetry is of
'
Beauty that must die ; the
method, a succession of beautiful images flashed from a river of
pleasing sound. It is the effect of an art which appeals to the

mind's eye with a lovely and vivid imagination, and to the mind's
ear with a melody at all times soft and (since Beauty dwells
with Sadness) at many times pathetic. 1 To illustrate one art by
1
Mr. Bagehot seems to deny this when he says (Hartley Coleridge) that
with whatever differences of species and class the essence of lyrical poetry
'

remains in all identical it is designed to express, and when successful does

;

b
viii INTRODUCTION
another often to lose, in the confusion of real distinction, most
is

risk of that
of the gain won by comparing justly ; yet, at the
and that it stands to
loss, it may be said of lyrical elegiac poetry
other poetry, and to all in some such relation as that of
speech,

sculpture to architecture.
And this is particularly true of

Shakespeare's Poems. Marble may be used for many ends, and

in all its usesmay be handled) with a regard for Beauty ; but
there comes a Phidias, possessed beyond others with the thirst
for Beauty, and pre-eminent both in perception and in control
of those qualities which fit marble for expressing Beauty to the
mind through the eye. He
by any divided
is still unsatisfied

dedication and so, in the rhythmic procession of a frieze, he

;

consecrates it to Beauty alone. At other times he may be the

first of architects, an excellent citizen at all. The Poems of
Shakespeare may be compared to the Frieze of the Parthenon,
insomuch as both are works in which the greatest masters of
words and of marble that we know have exhibited the exquisite

adaptation of those materials to the single expression of Beauty.

express, some one mood, some some isolated longing in

single sentiment,
human nature.' I doubt On
the contrary the essence of lyrical,
it.

certainly of elegiac poetry, consists in the handling of sentiment and emotion

to suggest infinity, not unity, not the science of psychology but, the

mysticism of desire. The emotion may sometimes be isolated for the sake of
more effectively contrasting its definiteness with the vast aspiration it
engenders. A
lyrical poet, for instance, would be content to echo the single
note of a curlew, but only because it suggests a whole moorland: the
particular moorland, that is, over which one bird is flying, and therewith the
flight of all birds, once a part of religion, over all moorlands in all ages.
Such a poem, if it were successful, would give, not only the transient
mood of a single listener but, all the melancholy and all the meaning and all
the emotion without meaning that have ever followed the flight of a
lonely bird over a waste place. Mr. Bagehot knows this, for he goes on
*
thus : Hence lyrical poets must not be judged literally from their lyrics :

they are discourses they require to be reduced into the scale of ordinary life,
;

to be stripped of the enraptured element, to be

clogged with gravitating
prose.' And why is this to be done? 'To judge the poet.' Exactly!
But why judge the poet instead of enjoying the poem ?
 INTRODUCTION ix
Other excellences there are in these works excellences of
truth and nobility, of intellect and passion ; and we may note
them, even as we must note them in the grander achievement
of their creators even as we may, if we choose, find much
:

to wonder at or to revere in the lives of their creators. But in

these things of special dedication we must seek in the first

place for the love of Beauty perfectly expressed, or we rebel

against their authors' purpose. Who cares now whether
Phidias did, or did not, carve the likeness of Pericles and his
own amidst the mellay of the Amazons ? And who, intent on
the exquisite response of Shakespeare's art to the inspiration
of Beauty, need care whether his Sonnets were addressed to
William Herbert or to another ? A riddle will always arrest
and tease the attention ;but on that very account we cannot

pursue the sport of running down the answer, unless we

make a sacrifice of all other solace. Had the Sphinx's enigma
been lesstransparent, it must
have wrecked the play of

Sophocles, for the minds of the audience would have stayed at

the outset much in the manner of trippers to Hampton Court
:

who spend their whole time in the Maze. Above all, must the
mind be disencumbered, clean, and
when, like a sensi
plastic,
tive plate, it is set to receive the impression of a work of art.

But are Shakespeare's Poems works of art ? Can the Venus

and Adonis, the Lucrece, and the Sonnets be received together as
kindred expressions of the lyrical and elegiac mood ? These

questions will occur to every one acquainted with the slighting

allusions of critics to the Narrative Poems, or with the por
tentous mass of theory and inference which has accumulated
round the Sonnets. For to find these Poems and certain of these
Sonnets so received we must turn back, over three hundred years,
to one of Shakespeare's contemporaries. Francis Meres, in his
' '
Palladia Tamia, a laboured but pleasing comparative discourse
of Elizabethan poets and the great ones of Italy, Greece, and
x INTRODUCTION
As the soule of Euphorbus was thought
'
Rome, wrote thus :

to live in Pythagoras, so the sweete wittie soule of Ovid lives in

mellifluous and honey-tongued Shakespeare, witness his Venus

and Adonis, his Lucreece, his sugred sonnets among his private

friends.' Meres, therefore, was the first to collect the titles or

to comment on the character of Shakespeare's Poems. But

since 1598, he has had many successors more com
although,
petent than himself,
and though nearly all have quoted his

saying, not one

has followed his example of reviewing the
three works together and insisting on their common charac
teristic. The Poems, indeed, have but rarely been printed
hand hand (so to speak) and apart from the Plays. This
in

strange omission did not follow, as I think, on any deliberate

it was, rather, the accidental outcome of the greater
judgment :

interest aroused by the Plays. The Poems were long eclipsed ;

and critics, even when they turned to them again, were still
thinking of the Plays were rather seeking in the Poet for the
man hid in the Playwright than bent on esteeming the loveli
ness of Shakespeare's lyrical art. For this purpose the Sonnets
showed the fairer promise: so the critics have filled shelves
with commentaries on them, scarcely glancing at the Venus and
the Lucrece ; and, even in scrutinising the Sonnets, they have
been so completely absorbed in the personal problems these
suggest as to discuss little except whether or how far they
reveal the real life of the man who, in the Plays, has clothed
so many imaginary lives with the semblance of reality. The
work done in this field has been invaluable on the whole. It is

impossible to over-praise Mr. Tyler's patience in research, or to

receive with adequate gratitude the long labour of Mr. Dowden's
love. Yet even Mr. Dowden, when he turns from considering
Shakespeare's art in the Plays, and would conjure up his soul
from the Sonnets, cannot escape the retribution inseparable
from his task. This probing in the Sonnets after their author's
 INTRODUCTION xi

storyis so deeply perplexed an enterprise as to engross the

whole energy of them that essay it so that none bent on :

digging up the soil in which they grew has had time to count
the blossoms they put forth, Some even (as Gervinus) have
been altogether blinded by the sweat of their labour, holding
that the ' Sonnets, aesthetically considered, have been over-esti
mated' (Shakespeare, Commentary, 452). He writes much of
'
Shakespeare's supposed relation to Southampton ; but for the
elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poetry, caret.' Yet
we know from Meres and others that Shakespeare impressed
his contemporaries, during a great part of his life, not only as

the greatest living dramatist but also, as a lyrical poet of the

first rank. Thus in 1598 Richard Barnefield, after praising
Spenser, Daniel, and Drayton:
l

'
And Shakespeare thou, whose hony-flowing Vaine
(Pleasing the World) thy Praises doth obtaine.
Whose Venus and whose Lucrece, (sweet, and chaste)
Thy Name in fame's immortall Booke have plac't
Live ever you, at least in Fame live ever :

'
Well may the Body dye, but Fame dies never :

and thus John Weever in 1599 (Epigrammes in the Oldest Cut and
Newest Fashion} :

'
Hoiiie-tong'd Shakespeare, when I saw thine issue,
swore Apollo got them and none other,
I

Their rosie -tainted features cloth' d in tissue,

Some heaven-born goddesse said to be their mother ;

Rose-checkt Adonis with his amber tresses,

Fair fire-hot Venus charming him to love her,
Chaste Lucretia, virgine-like her dresses,
Pro wd lust-stung Tarquine seeking still to prove her. . . .'

1 '
A Remembrance of some English Poets : Poems in Divers Humors,'
*
printed with separate title-page at the end of The Encomion of Lady
PecuniaJ 1598. Michael Drayton in his Matilda, 1594-1596, after referring
to Daniel'sRosamond, refers to Shakespeare's Lucrece. It is interesting to
note that the reference is cut out of all subsequent editions.
xii INTRODUCTION
Now, these tributes were paid at a time when lyrical poetry was

the delight of all who could read English. In one year (1600)

three famous anthologies were published England's Helicon,

that is, England's Parnassus, and Belvedere, or the Garden of the
Muses and, something more than a year later, the author of
;

the Returnefrom Parnassus writes this of Shakespeare, when he

reaches him in his review of the poets whose lyrics were laid
under contribution for the Belvedere :

Ingenioso. William Shakespeare.

Judicio. Who loves Adonis' love, or Lucre's rape,
His sweeter verse containes hart robbing life,
Could but a graver subject him content,
Without loves foolish languishment.

Discounting somewhat from the academical asperity of his

judgment, you find Shakespeare still regarded well into the
Seventeenth Century x as a love poet whose siren voice could
steal men's hearts.
In gauging the aesthetic value of a work of art we cannot
'

always tell how it strikes a contemporary ; and, even when

'

we can, it is often idle to consider the effect beside maturer

judgments. But when,

as in the case of these Poems, later

critics have scarce so much as concerned themselves with aesthetic

value,we may, unless we are to adventure alone, accept a

reminder of the artist's intention from the men who knew him,
who approved his purpose, and praisedhis success. To Francis

Meres, living among poets who worshipped Beauty to the

point of assigning a mystical importance to its every revelation

through the eye, it was enough that Shakespeare, like Ovid,
had wrought an expression for that worship out of the sound and
the cadence of words, contriving them into harmonies haunted

by such unexplained emotion as the soul suffers from beautiful

sights. We need not set Meres as a critic beside, say, Hazlitt.

1
Dated by Arber.
 INTRODUCTION xiii

But when Hazlitt quarrels with the Narrative Poems because

they are not realistic dramas, and when Gervinus takes the
Sonnets for an attempt at autobiography, baulked only by the
inherent difficulty of the Sonnet form, it may be profitable
to reconsider the view of even the euphuist Meres. Still,

none can be asked to accept that view without some

warning of the risk he runs. To maintain, with Meres, that
Shakespeare's Poems, including the Sonnets, are in the first
place lyrical and elegiac, is to court a hailstorm of handy
missiles. Hazlitt who, to be sure, would none of Herrick,
denounced the Narrative Poems for 'ice-houses'; and Coleridge's
ingenious defence that their wealth of picturesque imagery
was Shakespeare's substitute for dramatic gesture is almost as

damaging as Hazlitt' s attack. The one states, the other implies,

that they were awkward attempts at Drama, mere essays at the
form in which the author was afterwards to find his vocation.
And when we come to the Sonnets, the view of Meres, and of
who agree with
all Meres, draws a hotter fire : not only from
those who push the personal theory to its extreme conclusion,
treating the Sonnets as private letters written to assuage
emotion with scarce a thought for art, but also from those who
vigorously deny that any Sonnet can be lyrical. Yet the
hazard must be faced ; for the Venus, the Lucrece, and the
Sonnets are,each one, in the first place lyrical and elegiac.

They are concerned chiefly with the delight and the pathos of

Beauty, and they reflect this inspiration in their forms all :

else inthem, whether of personal experience or contemporary

art,being mere raw material and conventional trick, exactly as
important to these works of Shakespeare as the existence of
quarries at Carrara and the inspiration from antique marbles
^
newly discovered were to the works of Michelangelo. It is

easy to gauge the relative importance in Shakespeare's work

between his achievement as an artist and his chances as a man.
xiv INTRODUCTION
For that relative importance is measured by the chasm which
sunders his work from the work of contemporaries labouring
under like conditions ; and if his Sonnets have common
little in

with Constable's, his narrative verse has still less in common with

(say) Marston's Pygmalion.

Unless this view be admitted there is no excuse for re-

publishing the Narrative Poems with the Sonnets we can take :

down the Plays, or study, instead of the Sonnets, such con

clusions upon Shakespeare's passionate experience as the com
mentator has been able to draw. And many of us do this,

yielding to the bias of criticism deflected from its proper office

by pre-occupation with matters outside the mood of aesthetic

delight. But the mistake is ours, and the loss, which also is
ours, is
very great. The nature of it may be illustrated
from that which comes upon the many who shrink from
reading the earliest of Shakespeare's Plays, or read it only
in search of arguments
against his authorship. Starting from
the improbable conjecture, that the character of an author

may be guessed from the incidents he chooses to handle, critics

have either alluded to Titus Andronicus with an
apology, or have
denied be Shakespeare's.
it to 1
But, read without prejudice or
without anxiety to prove that
Shakespeare could not have
chosen the theme of Mutilation for the
spring of unspeakable
pathos, the play in no wise 'reeks of blood,' but, on the con
trary, is sweet with the fragrance of woods and fields, is flooded
with that infinite pity whose serene fountains well up within
the walls of an hospital. It is true that Lavinia suffers a worse
fate than Philomela in Ovid's
tale; that her tongue is torn
out, lest it should speak her wrong ; that her hands are cut

off, lest they should write it. But mark the treatment of these

1
Dowden, Shakespeare, His Mind and Art, pp 54, 55. Gerald Massey,
Shakespeare's Sonnets and His Private Friends, p. 85 1 Halliwell- Phillipps,
.

Outlines, i. 79.
 INTRODUCTION xv
worse than brutalities. Thus speaks Marcus of her hands
(ii. 4):_
e
Those sweet ornaments,
Whose circling shadows Kings have sought to sleep in,
And might not gain so great a happiness
As have thy love.'

And again :

'
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,
He would not then have touched them for his life !
'

And of her tongue (iii. 1) :

'
O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,
That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence,
Is torn from forth its pretty hollow cage
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear.'

Who can listen to these lines or to those which tell how

'
Fresh tears
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd,'
and yet conclude that if any portions of the Play be from his
'

hand, it shows that there was a period in Shakespeare's author

ship when the Poet had not yet discovered himself ? In the
same scene, hark to the desolate family :

'
Behold our cheeks
How they are stain'd, as meadows yet not dry
'
With miry slime left on them by a flood :

and consider that daughter's kiss which can avail her father

nothing :

'
Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless
As frozen water to a starved snake.'

These passages are stamped with the plain sign-manual of

xvi INTRODUCTION
Shakespeare: not who, living in the world,
the creator

fashioned Hamlet and Falstaff and Lady Macbeth, but the

bred in Arden Forest, who wrote Romeo and Juliet
lyrical poet,
and Love's Labour 's Midsummer Night's Dream and
Lost, the
the Two Gentlemen of Verona, the Venus and the Lucrece, and
the Sonnets. They are of that sweet and liquid utterance,
which conveys long trains of images caught so freshly from
Nature that, like larks in cages, they seem still to belong to
the fields and sky.
solicitude for
Our lossgreat indeed if an impertinent
is

morals, an officious care for his reputation as a

Shakespeare's
creator of character, lead us to pass over Titus Andronicus,
or to lend, in the other early plays, a half-reluctant ear
to his song' and his succession of gracious
'enchanting
images. But that great as it is in the Plays, is greater
loss,

and more gratuitous in the Poems, which belong to the same

phase of his genius, and yield it a more legitimate expression.
The liquid utterance by every character of such lovely imagery
as only a poet can see and seize may be, and is most often, out
of place in a drama :
delays the action, falsifies the
since it

portraiture, and carries the audience from the scene back to the

Playwright's boyhood in the Warwickshire glades. But in a poem

it is the true, the direct, the inevitable revelation of the artist's

own delight in Beauty. And it is too much to ask of those

who drink in this melody without remorse from the Plays, that
they shall sacrifice the Poems also to the fetish of character

isation, or shall mar their enjoyment of the Sonnets with vain

guesses at a moral problem, whose terms no man has been able
to state. Let those, who care for characterisation only, avoid
the Poems and stick to the Plays even as they neglect :

Chaucer's Troilus for his Prologue to The Canterbury Tales.

Each must satisfy his own taste; but, if there be any that
dwell overfondly (as it seems to others) on the sweet-
 INTRODUCTION xvii
ness of Shakespeare's earlier verse, let them remember that he
too dwelt with a like fondness on Chaucer's long lyric of
romantic love. The Troilus must certainly have been a part
of Shakespeare's life, else he could never have written the

opening to the Fifth Act of his Merchant of Venice :

'
The moon shines bright ; in such a night as this
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
And they did make no noise, in such a night
Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents
Where Cressid lay that night.'

He had stood with the love-sick Prince through that passionate

vigil on the wall, and had felt the sweet wind increasing in
'

his face.' And if Shakespeare, qui apres Dieu crea le plus,'

f

found no cause in the Prologue for slighting the Troilus, surely

we, who have created nothing, may frankly enjoy his Poems
without disloyalty to his Plays ?
Of course, to the making of these Poems, as to the making
of every work of art, there went something of the author's

personal experience, something of the manner of his country

and his time ; and these elements may be studied by a lover
of Poetry. Yet only that he may better appreciate the
amount superadded by the Poet. The impression which the
artist makes on his material, in virtue of his inspiration from

Beauty, and of his faculty acquired in the strenuous service of

Art, must be the sole object and reward of artistic investiga
tion. For the student of history and the lover of art are
bound on diverse quests. The first may smelt the work of art
in his crucible, together with other products of contemporary
custom and morality, in order to extract the ore of historic
truth. But for the second to shatter the finished creations of
art in order to show what base material they are made of
surely this argues a most grotesque inversion of his regard for
xviii INTRODUCTION
means and end? To ransack Renaissance literature for

parallels to Shakespeare's verse is to discover, not Shake

speare's art but, the common measure of poetry in Shake

speare's day ; to grope in his Sonnets for hints on his personal

suffering is but to find that he too was a man, born into a

world of confusion and fatigue. It is not, then, his likeness
as a man to other men, but his distinction from them as an

artist, which concerns the lover of art. And in his Poems we

find that distinction to be
that through all the vapid
this :

enervation and the vicious excitement of a career which drove

some immediate forerunners down most squalid roads to
death, he saw the beauty of this world both in the pageant of
the year and in the passion of his heart, and found for its

expression the sweetest song that has ever triumphed and

wailed over the glory of loveliness and the anguish of decay.

ii

To measure the amount in these Poems which is due to

Shakespeare's art, let us consider the environment and ac

cidents of his life, and then subtract so much as may be due
to these. He
1 was born
at the very heart of this island in

Stratford-on-Avon, a town in the ancient Kingdom of Mercia

the Kingdom of the Marches whose still attest place-names
the close and 2
And he
commingling of Angle with Celt.
full

was born April 22nd or 23rd, 1564 full

eighty years after
Bosworth Field, by closing the Middle Age, had
opened a period
of national union at home, and had made room and time for
a crowd of literary and artistic influences from abroad. He
1
Among many sources of information let me acknowledge my special in
debtedness to Professor Dowden, Mr. Robert Bell, and above
all, the late
Thomas Spencer Baynes. (Shakespeare St^^d^es. Longmans, Green and Co.,
1894.)
2
Cf. the Rev. Stopford Brooke's
History of Early English Literature,
and T. S. Baynes, who quotes J. R. Green and Matthew Arnold.
 INTRODUCTION xix
was, therefore, an Englishman in the wider extension of that
inadequate term ;
and he lived when every insular character
istic flared up in response to stimulants from the Renaissance
over-sea. For nationality is not fostered by seclusion, but
dwindles, like a fire, unless it be fed with alien food. By
parentage he was heir to the virtues and traditions of diverse
classes. His mother, Mary Arden, daughter of a small pro
prietor and 'gentleman of worship/ could claim descent
from noble stocks, and that in an age when good blood

argued a tradition of courtesy among its inheritors as yet un

prized by other ranks. But, though something of Shake
speare's gentleness and serenity may be traced to his mother's
disposition, it is with Shakespeare as with Dickens 1 the
father, John, who strikes us the more sharply, with the quainter
charm of a whimsical temperament. John was the eldest son
owned by
of Richard, tenant of a forest farm at Snitterfield,
Robert Arden of Wilmcote, the aforesaid ' gentleman of wor
ship.' But John had a dash of the adventurer, and dreamed
of raising the family fortunes to a dignity whence they had
declined. 2 So he left the little farm behind him in 1551, and,
shifting his base of operations some three or four miles to

Stratford, he there embarked his capital of hope in a number

of varied enterprises 3 with such success, that in six years he
:

could pretend to the hand of Mary Arden, the heiress of his

father's landlord. Like Micawber, he counted on '
something
'

turning up in a market town

and, although his career was ;

marked from the very outset by a happy-go-lucky incurious-

1
The parallel was noted first but only in talk by the late R. L.
Stevenson. He was keenly alive (I am told) to its possibilities, which, in
deed, are encouraging enough.
2
Times, October 14, 1895.
Griffin Genealogy.
3
He described in the register of the Bailiff's Court for 1556 as a
is
'

glover,' but according to tradition he was also a butcher, wool-stapler, corn-

dealer, and timber-merchant.
xx INTRODUCTION
1
ness, at he was not disappointed. He becomes a burgess,
first

or town-councillor, probably at Michaelmas 1557, High Bailiff

in 1568, Chief Alderman in 1571 ; purchasing house property,
and making frequent donations to the poor. His high heart
and his easy good-nature won him wealth and friends ; but they
landed him at last in a labyrinth of legal embarrassments, so

that the family history becomes a record of processes for debt,

of mortgages and sales of reversionary interests. In 1578 he
obtains relief from one-half of the aldermanic contribution to

military equipment; altogether excused a

and, again, he is

weekly contribution of fourpence to the poor. In the same

for forty pounds, and
year he mortgages his estate of the Asbies
his sureties are sued by a baker for his debt of five pounds.

In 1579 he sells his interest in two messuages at Snitterfield for

four pounds. In 1586 his name is removed from the roll of

Aldermen because he doth not come *

to the halles when they
are warned, nor hath done for a long time.' And in 1592 his
affairs have sunk to so low an ebb that
curiously enough with
Fluellen and Bardolph for companions in misfortune, he ' comes
not to church for fear of process for debt/ 2 Yet poverty and
1
He was fined in 1552 for not removing the household refuse which had
accumulated in front of his house, and in 1558 for not keeping his gutter
clean. Some argue, but not very plausibly, that every record or tradition
which they hold derogatory to Shakespeare or his father, is to be referred
to others of the same name.
2
Some have and, from Malone
held this plea a pretext to cover recusancy :

downwards, the best authorities have conjectured in John Shakespeare one of

the many who at that time had no certitude of, perhaps no wish for, a definite
break and a new departure in religion. The Rev. T. Carter, however, has
argued (Shakespeare, Puritan and Recusant), 1897, that John Shakespeare
and William, were Puritans. Such conscription of the dead to the standards
of religious factions may well seem unnecessary in any case.
Applied to
the Poet of All Time, it is repugnant and absurd. As to John, Mr. Carter's
contention is found to rest on certain entries in the
municipal accounts of
Stratford-on-Avon. These show that images were defaced by order of the
Town Council in the year 1562-3, and that vestments were sold in 1571.
Now, John Shakespeare filled a small office during the first, and the impor-
 INTRODUCTION xxi
sorrow neither tamed his ambition nor sealed up his springs of
sentiment. Through the lean years he persists in appealing to

tant post of Chief Alderman during the second, of these two years. In
order to gauge how nearly such transactions may point to every member of
the Town Council, who did not repudiate them, having been a Puritan, it is
necessary to consider the attitude of most Englishmen towards questions or
ritual at that time. According to Green and other received authorities it was
an attitude of uncertainty. To modern eyes,' Green writes (History of the
'

'
English People, ii. 308), the Church under Elizabeth would seem little better
'
than a religious chaos.' After ten years of her rule the bulk of Englishmen
were found to be "utterly devoid of religion," and came to church "as to a
May game.'" It is therefore difficult or, as I hold, impossible to determine
from the action of individuals upon questions of ritual, and still more so from
their inaction, whether they were Puritans, loyal supporters of the last new
State Religion, or Church-Papists, viz. those who conformed in public
:

and heard mass at home. But apart from such points, which can hardly
be determined, Mr. Carter puts himself out of court on two broad issues.
(i) He makes John a Puritan, and chronicles his application for coat-armour
'
(p. 177) without comment. Contrast Lenvoy to the Author' by Garter
Principall King of Armes, prefixed to Guillim's Display of Heraldrie,
1610:

*
Peevish Precisenesse, loves no Heraldry,
Crosses in Armes, they hold Idolatry. . . .

Shortly no difference twixt the Lord and Page.

Honours, Recusants' (i.e. puritan recusants) 'doe so rmtltiply,

As Armes, the Ensignes fl/" Nobility ,

'
Must be laid downe ; they are too glorious (boastful)
'
Plaine idle shewes, and superstitious :
Plebeian basenesse doth them so esteeme.
"
Degrees in bloud, the steps of pride and scorne,
All Adam's children, none are Gentle borne :
Degrees of state, titles ^/"Ceremony :"
Brethren in Christ, greatnesse is tyranny :
O impure Purity that so doth deeme ! '

*
and Guillim's own opinion the swans purity is too Puritanicall, in that
:

his featters and outward appearance he is all white, but inwardly his body
and flesh is very blacke.' (2) He omits the introduction of stage plays
into Stratford under John Shakespeare's auspices, and asserts (p. 189) that
*
Puritans of the days of Elizabeth had not the abhorrence of the stage
which the corruptions of Charles n.'s reign called forth.' Let me quote
xxii INTRODUCTION
the Heralds' College for a grant of arms
1
; and in 1579,
being
reduced to the straitest expedients, he still pays an excessive

sum for the bell at his daughter's funeral. It was not altogether
from Shakespeare's own experience, but also, we may think,
from boyish memories of this kindly and engaging Micawber
that he was afterwards to draw his unmatched pictures of
thriftless joviality. From him, also, Shakespeare may well

have derived his curious knowledge of legal procedure and of

the science of heraldry, for his father contested some sixty law
suits,and applied, at least three times, for coat-armour. But
the father, if he squandered his inheritance, left him an early
love and understanding of the stage.
f
The best companies
in the Kingdom constantly visited Stratford during the decade

of Shakespeare's active youth from 1573 to 1584' 2 thanks, I :

the Corporation of London in 1575 'To play in plague-time increases the

:

plague by infection to play out of plague-time calls down the plague from
:

'
God (Fleay, History of the Stage, p. 47) and William Habington, a devout
:

Catholic, writing in 1634, when Prynne had just lost his ears for attacking
Players in Histrio-mastix :

'
Of this wine should Prynne
Drinke but a plenteous glasse, he would beginne
A health to Shakespeare 's
ghost.
'

Castara> Part ii., To a Friend.

Mr. Carter's attempt to incarcerate Shakespeare in the 'prison-house of

Puritanism' rests on too slender a basis to stand unless buttressed by
new, and not very convincing, accounts of the principal movements and
characters of the time. For example, he makes James I. a hero of
Puritanism, in the face of his declarations
'
Scottish Presbytery as
: A
well fitteth with Monarchy as God and the Devil,' and his threat against
I will make them confdrm, or I will
'
the Puritans :
harry them out of
'
the land !

1
Conceded in 1596 and extended in 1599. Some dispute this. But the
arms of 1596 appear on Shakespeare's monument. Cf. the drafts of Grants
of Coat- Armour proposed to be conferred on
John Shakespeare, from original
MSS. preserved at the College of Arms.
(Halliwell-Phillipps, Outlines, ii.
pp. 56, 61.)
2
Baynes, p. 67.
 INTRODUCTION xxiii

cannot but think, to the taste and instigation of Shakespeare's

sire for we first hear of stage plays during the year in which
;

he was High Bailiff, or Mayor, and we know that, during his

year of office, he introduced divers companies to the town, and,
doubtless, in accordance with custom, inaugurated their per
formances in the Guild-hall.
From the known facts of John Shakespeare's extraction and
career we may infer the incidents of his son's boyhood the :

visits to the old home at high seasons of harvest and sheep-

shearing; the sports afield with his mother's relations; the
convivial gatherings of his father's cronies ; and certain days of
awe-struck enchantment when the Guild-hall resounded to the
tread and declamation of Players. But in the first years all
these were incidental to the regular curriculum of Stratford
Grammar-School still to be seen in the same building over the
Hall. Fortunately we know what that curriculum was, and a
bound is set to speculation on the nature and extent of the
schooling Shakespeare had. From the testimony of two for
pieced together the method of
1
gotten books, Mr. Baynes has

teaching in use at grammar-schools during the years of Shake

speare's pupilage ; and his theory is amply and minutely confirmed
by many passages in the Plays. 2 Shakespeare went to school
at seven, and, after grinding at Lily's Grammar, enjoyed such
conversation in Latin with his instructors as the Ollendorfs of
the period could provide. The scope and charm of these

John Brinsley's Ludus literarius, or Grammar Schoole, 1612 (Brinsley

1

was master of the Ashby-de-la-Zouche Grammar-School for 16 years), and

Charles Hoole's A New Discovery of the old Art of Teaching Schools, etc.
This book, though of later date Hoole was born in 1610 has its own
interest ; since the author was head-master of a school at Rotherham closely

resembling the Stratford School in 'its history and general features.'

(Baynes.)
"
Baynes, Shakespeare Studies, pp. 147-249 :
'
What Shakespeare Learnt
at School.'
xxiv INTRODUCTION
'
his sketch in
'
Confabulation es pueriles may be guessed from
Loves Labour 's Lost :

'
Sir Nathaniel. Laus Deo, bone intelligo.'
'
Bone bone for bene. Priscian a little scratched ;
Holophernes. !

3
'twill serve.
Sir Nathaniel. 'Videsne quis venit?'
Holophernes.
'
Video et gaudeo.' 1

And from Holophernes his Fauste precor. Old Mantuan, old

'

Mantuan who understandeth thee not, loves thee not/ we may

!

infer that the pupil did not share the pedagogic admiration for
the Eclogues of the monk, Mantuanus. 2
But when, with ^sop's fables, these in their turn had been
mastered, the boy of twelve and upwards was given his fill of
Ovid, something less of Cicero, Virgil, Terence, Horace, and
Plautus, and, perhaps, a modicum of Juvenal, Persius, and
Seneca's tragedies ; and of these it is manifest, from the Poems
8
and the early that Ovid left by far the most profound
Plays,
impression in his mind. But his studies were cut short. At
4
fourteen he was taken from school, doubtless to assist his
father amid increasing difficulties, and we have a crop of legends
1
I preserve Theobald's emendation. In one of the manuals, * Familiarcs
Colloquendi Formulae in usum Scholarum concinnatacj Mr Baynes has
found, 'Who comes to meet us? Quis obviam venit? He speaks false
Latin, Diminuit Prisciani caput; 'Tis barbarous Latin, Olet barbarietn.'
Cf. Holofernes '
I smell false Latin, "
:
O, dunghill" for unguem.'
2
From Michael Dray ton's epistle in verse to Henry Reynolds Of Poets
and Poesy 1627, we gather that his poetic aspirations survived the same
youthful ordeal :

*
For from my cradle (you must know that) I
Was still inclined to noble Poesie ;

And when that once Pueriles I had read,

And newly had my Cato construed. . . .

And first read to me honest MantuanS

8
Cf. in particular Love's Labour's Lost and Titus Andronicus.
4
Rowe, 1709.
 INTRODUCTION xxv
suggesting the various callings in which he may have laboured
to that end. 1 None of these legends can be proved, but none
is
impossible in view of his father's taste for general dealing and
of the random guidance he is likely to have given his son.
After four and a half years of such hand-to-mouth endeavour,
sweetened, we may guess, by many a holiday in the forest and
deer-park at Fulbrook, Shakespeare, in December
2
derelict

1582, being yet a lad of eighteen, married Anne Hathaway,

his senior by eight years, daughter to the tenant of Shottery

Farm. This marriage may, or may not, have been preceded

in the summer by a betrothal of legal validity 3 : his eldest

child, Susannah, was born in May 1583. But in either case

the adventure was of that romantic order which is justified

by success alone, and such success must have seemed doubt

ful when twins were born in February 1585. About this
period of youth,
*
when the blood 's lava and the pulse
a blaze,' may be grouped the legends of the drinking-match be
tween rival villages at Bidford, and of the deer-slaying resented
by Sir Thomas Lucy.
Mr. Baynes places this latter exploit
at Fulbrook ;he be right, Sir Thomas's interference was
and, if

unwarranted, and may have been dictated by Protestant bigotry

against Shakespeare for his kinship with the Ardens of Parkhall,,
who stood convicted of a plot against the Queen's life.
4 We
know little of these years; but we know enough to approve

1
Rowe makes him a dealer in wool, on the authority of information
collected by Betterton ; Aubrey (before 1680) a school-master, and else
where a journeyman butcher, which is corroborated by the Parish Clerk of
Stratford, born 1613. To Malone's conjecture, that he served in an Attorney's
office, I will return.
2
The property of an attainted traitor, ' sequestered, though not adminis
tered by the Crown.' Baynes, as above, p. 80.
3
Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps argues that it was. There is no evidence either
way.
4
Certain indications, each slight in itself, taken together point to some
sympathy on Shakespeare's part with the older faith. The Rev. Richard
xxvi INTRODUCTION
fortune. For at Strat
Shakespeare's departure in search of
ford, frowned on by the mighty and weighed
down with the
double burden of a thriftless father and his own tender babes,
there was nothing for him but starvation.

in

To London, then, he set out on some day between the

opening of 1585 and the autumn of 1587, looking back on
a few years of lad's experience and forward to the magical
unknown. And to what a London Perhaps the first feature
!

that struck him, re-awaking old delights, was the theatres

on both banks of Thames. It may even be that he rode

straight toone of these houses (one built by James Burbage,

himself a Stratford man) and that, claiming the privilege of
a fellow-townsman, he enrolled himself forthwith in the
1
company of the Earl of Leicester's players. It is likelier

than not ; Burbage can hardly have built, not this later
for

structure but, the ' Theater,' twenty years earlier, for a first
home of the drama in London, without receiving the con
gratulations, perhaps the advice, of Shakespeare's father, in
those aldermanic days, when every strolling
old prosperous

company might claim a welcome from the Mayor of Stratford ;

and the probability is increased by the presence of two other
Stratford men, Heminge and Greene, in the same company.
In Blackfriars, also, and near the theatres, stood the
shop
of Thomas Vautrouillier, publisher, and here
Shakespeare
found another acquaintance : for Richard Field served the
first six years of his apprenticeship (1579-1585) with Vautrou-

Davies in notes on Shakespeare, made before the year 1708, says 'he dyed a
Papist.'
1
Baynes. Fleay holds that Shakespeare joined the company at Stratford
and travelled with it to London.
 INTRODUCTION xxvii
illier, and Richard was the son of '
Henry ffielde of Strat
ford uppon Aven in the countye of Warwick, tanner/ whose
goods and chattels had once, we know, been valued by the
Poet's father and two other Stratfordians. 1 Now, about the
time of Shakespeare's advent to London, Richard Field
married Jaklin, the daughter or widow 2 of Vautrouillier,
and succeeded to the emigre s business. The closeness of
the connexion is confirmed
by our knowledge that Field
printed the first three editions of Venus (1593, 1594, 1596)
and the first Lucrece (1594). But Field also printed Putten-
ham's Arte of English Poesie (1589), an d, m a n ^at brevier Italic/
'

fifteen books of Ovid's Metamorphosis. In 1595, again, he

printed his fine edition, the second, 3 of North's Plutarch,

following it up with others in 1603, 1607, 1612. Without

4
companioning Mr. William Blades so far as to infer that

Shakespeare worked as a printer with Field, we cannot miss the

significance of his friend's having given to the world the Latin

poem which left so deep an impression on Shakespeare's earlier

lyrical verse, and that English translation from Amyot's

Plutarch, out of which he quarried the material of his Greek

and Roman plays.
When Shakespeare came to London, then, he found in
Blackfriars a little colony of his fellow-townsmen caught up
in the two most pronounced intellectual movements of that

day : the new English Drama and the reproduction, whether

1
Diet. Nat. Biog. Richard Field. Arber, transcript, ii. 93.
2 '
In 1588 he married, says Ames, 'Jaklin, d. of Vautrollier ( Typographical
Antiquities, ed. Herbert, ii. 1252) and succeeded him in his house 'in the
Black Friers, neer Ludgate.' Collier quotes the marriage register R. Field
to Jacklin, d. of Vautrilliam 12 Jan. 1588. It is stated, however, in a list of
' '

master-printers included in the Stationers' Register (transcript, iii. 702) that

Field married Vautrouillier's widow, and succeeded him in 1590.
3
The first was published by Vautrouillier in 1579-
4
Shakespere and Typography, 1877.
xxviii INTRODUCTION
in the original or in translation, of classical masterpieces.
We know nothing directly of his life during the next five
years. There is the tradition that he organised shelter and

baiting for the horses of the young gallants, who daily rode down
to the Theatres after their midday meal; and there is the
1
tradition that he paid one visit to Stratford every year. Yet
it is easy to conjecture the experience of a youth and a poet
translated from Warwickshire to a London rocking and roaring
with Armada-patriotism and the literary fervour of the ( university

pens.' All the talk was of sea-fights and new editions Drake :

and Lyly, Raleigh and Lodge, Greene and Marlowe and Gren-
ville were names in every mouth. The play-houses were the
centres, and certain young lords the leaders, of a confused and
turbulent movement appealing with a myriad voices to the
lust of the eye and the pride of life. In pure letters Greene's
2
Menaphon (1589), Lodge's Rosalynd (1590), were treading on
the heels of Lyly's later instalments of Euphues ; and Sidney's
long known
3
Arcadia, in MS., every hand. The
was at last in

first three books of The

Faery Queen were brought over from
Ireland, and were published in the same year. Poetry, poetical
prose, and, for the last sign of a literary summer, even criticism
of the aim and art of poetry as Webb's Discourse of
English
Poetrie (1586), Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie
(1589), and
4
all kept pouring from the
Sidney's Apologiefor Poetrie press.
But the Play was the thing that chiefly engaged the am
bition of poets, and took the fancy of young lords. The
players, to avoid the statute which penalised their profes

sion, were enrolled as servants of noblemen, and this led,

directly, to relations, founded on their common interest, between

1
Aubrey (before 1680).
-
Where Shakespeare found the germ of As You Like It.
3
Begun 1580, published 1590.
4
Not published till 1595, but written perhaps as early as 1581.
 INTRODUCTION xxix
the patron who protected a company and the poet who wrote
for it. Indirectly it led to much freedom of access between

nobles who, though not themselves patrons, were the friends

or relatives of others that were, and the leading dramatists
and players. Noblemen are associated with Poets, i.e.
Play
wrights, in contemporary satires. In Ben Jonson's Poetaster,
for example, Cloe, the wife of a self-made man, asks, as she sets
out for the Court ( And will the Lords and the Poets there use
:

'
one well too, lady ? These artistic relations often ripened into
close personal friendships: Ben Jonson, for example, left his

wife to live during five years as the guest of Lord Aubigny ;

l

and Shakespeare's friendships with Southampton and William

Herbert are so fully attested as to preclude the omission of
all reference to their lives from any attempt at reconstituting
the life of Shakespeare. Doubtless they arose in the manner I
have suggested. In 1 599 2 we read the Lord Southampton '

and Lord Rutland came not to the Court; the one doth very
seldom they pass away the time in London, merely in going
;

'
to plays every day and from Baynard's Castle to the Black-
;

friarsTheatre was but a step for Pembroke's son, William

Herbert, 'the most universally beloved and esteemed of any
man of his age.' 3 Shakespeare wrote to Southampton The :
'

love I dedicate to your lordship is without end'; 4 and we know,

apart from any inference deduced from the Sonnets, that

William Herbert also befriended our poet. His comrades
1
Esme Stewart, Lord Aubigny, Duke of Lennox (cf. Jonson's Epigrams,
19, and the dedication of Sejanus). ' Five years he had not bedded with her,
but had remained with my lord Aulbany,' Drummonds Conversations, 13,
quoted by Fleay.
2
Letter from Rowland White to Sir Robert Sidney. Rowe, on the
authority of Sir William Davenant, states that Southampton once gave
Shakespeare j I ooo. The story, if it be true, probably refers to an investment
in the Blackfriars Theatre.
3
Clarendon.
4
Dedication of Liurtce.
xxx INTRODUCTION
dedicated the Folio (1623) after his death to William Herbert
and his brother Philip, as 'the most incomparable paire of
'
brethren/ in memory of the favour with which they had prose-
Shake
quuted' both the Plays and their Authour living.'
f

speare was the friend of both Southampton

and Herbert ; and
in his imagination, that mirror of all life, the bright flashes

and the dark shadows of their careers must often have been
reflected.

IV

Southampton was scholar, sailor, soldier, and lover of letters. 1

Born in 1573, he graduated at sixteen as a Master of Arts at
St. John's College, Cambridge. At twenty-four he sailed 2

with Essex as captain of the Garland, and, attacking thirty-

five Spanish galleons with but three ships, sank one and

scattered her fellows. And for his gallantry on shore in the

same year (1597), he was knighted in the field by Essex
before Villa Franca, ere 'he could dry the sweat from his
8
brows, or put his sword up in the scabbard.' Now, in 1598
Essex was already out of favour with the Queen she had been
provoked to strike him at a meeting of the Council in July ;
but he was popular in London, and had come, oddly enough,
to be looked on as a deliverer by Papists and Puritans
both. In April 1599 he sailed for Ireland, accompanied by
Lord Southampton ; and we need not surmise, for we know,
how closely Shakespeare followed the fortune of their arms. In

1
Qui in primo aetatis flore praesidio bonarum literarum et rei militaris
scientia nobilitatemcommunit, ut uberiores fructus maturiore aetate patriae et
principiprofundat.' Camden's Britannia, 8vo, 1600, p. 240.
2
Southampton was admitted a student in 1585 (act. 12). Note that
Tom Nash, who in
'
tasted the full spring of Southampton's
after years
'

liberality (Terrors of Night, 1594) matriculated at the same College in 1582,

and ever cherished its memory :
'
Loved it still, for it ever was and is the
sweetest nurse of knowledge in all that university' (Lenten
Stuff).
3
Gervois Markham, Honour In Its Perfection, 4to, 1624.
 INTRODUCTION xxxi
London, the quick forge and working-house of thought/
'

Shakespeare weaves into the chorus to the Fifth Act of his

Henry V. a prophetic picture of their victorious return :

f
Were now the general of our gracious empress,
As good time he may, from Ireland coming,
in

Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,

How many would the peaceful city quit
'
To welcome him !

The play was produced in the spring of that year, but its

prophecy went unfulfilled. Essex failed where so many had

failed before him; and, being censured by the Queen, replied

with impertinent complaints against her favours to his political

opponents, Cecil, Raleigh, and that Lord Cobham who had

two years earlier taken umbrage at Shakespeare's Henry IV. 1
In September he returned suddenly from a futile campaign,
and on Michaelmas Eve, booted, spurred, and bespattered, he
burst into the Queen's chamber, to find her with 'her hair
about her face.' 2 He
was imprisoned and disgraced, one of
the chief causes of Elizabeth's resentment being, as she after
wards alleged, 'that he had made Lord Southampton general
of the horse contrary to her will.' 3 For Southampton was
already under a cloud. He had presumed to marry Elizabeth
Vernon without awaiting the Queen's consent, and now, com
bining the display of his political discontent with the indulgence
of his passion for the theatre, he, as I have said, is found

avoiding the Court and spending his time in seeing plays. The
combination was natural enough, for theatres were then, as

newspapers are now, the cock-pits of political as of religious

and literary contention. Rival companies, producing new plays,
'
'
or mending old ones each month, and almost each week,

1
Infra.
2
Rowland White to Sir Robert Sidney, Michaelmas day, 1599.
3
Ibid., 25th October 1599.
xxxii INTRODUCTION
were quick to hail the passing triumphs, or to glose the passing

defeats of their chosen causes. Whilst high-born ladies of the

1
house of Essex besieged the Court clad in deep mourning, and
the chances of his being forgiven were canvassing among
courtiers wherever they assembled, Dekker in Patient Grissel
(1599), Hey wood in his Royal King
and Loyal Subject,'2 hinted '

that probation, however remorseless, might be but the prelude

to a loftier honour. Now, just at this time there occurs a

strange reversal in the attitudes of the Court and the City

towards the Drama. One Order of Council follows another, 3

enjoining on the Mayor and Justices that they shall limit

the number of play-houses ; but the City authorities, as a rule

1
Rowland White, passim.
2
I venture to date this play 1600, although printed much later, on the
following grounds :
(i) It was published with an apology for the number of
its 'rhyming which pleaded that such lines were the rage at the date
lines,'
of its first though long since discarded in favour of blank
production,
verse and ' strong lines.' The plea would hardly tally with a later date. (2)
The allusion to Dekker's Phaethon, produced 1598, and re- written for the
Court, 1600, points to Hey wood's play having been written whilst Dekker's,
referred to also in Jonson's Poetaster, 1601, was attracting attention. In
Poetaster, iv. 2, Tucca calls Demetrius, who is Dekker, Phaethon. (3) The
passage of Heywood's play in which this allusion occurs is significant :

'
Prince. The Martiall 's
gone in discontent, my liege.
King. Pleas'd, or not pleas'd, if we be England's King,
And mightiest in the spheare in which we move,
Wee '11 shine along this Phaethon cast down.
'

This trial of the Marshal, who is

stripped of all his offices and insignia, seems
moulded on the actual trial of Essex in June 1600, as described by Rowland
White in a letter to Sir Robert Sidney of June 7th, 1600 The poore Earl :
'

then besought their Honors, to be a meane unto her Majestic for Grace and
Mercy seeing there appeared in his offences no Disloyalty towards Her
;

Highness, but Ignorance and Indiscretion in hymself. I heare it was a most

pitifull and lamentable sight, to see hym that was the Mignion of Fortune, now

unworthy of the least Honor he had of many; many that were present burst
out in tears at his fall to such misery.' A writer
(probably Mr. R. Simpson)
in The North British Review,
1870, p. 395, assigns Heywood's play to 1600.
3
June 22, 1600. March 10, 1601. May 10, 1601. December 31, 1601.
Quoted by Fleay.
 INTRODUCTION xxxiii
most Puritanical, are obstinately remiss in giving effect to these

decrees. Mr. Fleay attributes this waywardness to a jealous

vindication of civic privileges I would rather ascribe it to
:

sympathy with Essex, 'the good Earl.' The City authorities

could well, had they been so minded, have prevented the per
formance of Richard II., with his deposition and death, some
'
'
forty times in open streets and houses, as Elizabeth com
1
plained; and, indeed, it is hard to account for the Queen's
sustained irritation at this drama save on the ground of its
with her 2
close association past fears of Essex. Months
after the execution, she exclaimed to Lambard
'
Earl's I :

am Richard the Second, knowe yee not that ? 3 And we

'

have the evidence of Shakespeare's friend and colleague,

Phillips, for the fact that Richard II. was performed by special

request of the conspirators on the eve of their insane rising

4

(February 7, l601) that act of folly, which cost Essex his

head and Southampton his liberty during the rest of Eliza
beth's reign.
But if Shakespeare's colleagues, acting Shakespeare's Plays,
gave umbrage to Essex's political opponents in Henry IV.,
applauded his ambition in Henry V., and were accessories to
his disloyalty in Richard II., there were
playwrights and
players ready enough to back the winning side. Henslowe,
an apparent time-server, commissioned Dekker to re-write his
Phaethon for presentation before the Court (1600), with, it is
fair to suppose, a greater insistence on the presumption and
1
Nichols, iii. 552.
2
Cf. Elizabeth to Harrington :
'
By God's Son I am no Queen ; this man
'
is above me.
3
Halliwell-Phillipps, Outlines, ii. 359. Lambard, August 1601, had opened
his Pandecta Rotulorum before her at the reign of Richard II.
4 '
Examination of Augustyne Phillypps servant unto the Lord Chamber -
leyne, and one of his players,' quoted by Halliwell-Phillipps, Outlines, ii. 360.
'
Phillips died, 1605, leaving by will to my fellow William Shakespeare, a
'

thirty shillings piece of gold.

xxxiv INTRODUCTION
'

catastrophe of the
'
Sun's Darling ; and Ben Jonson, in his

forth two censorious allusions to

Cynthia s Revels (1600), put
Essex's conduct. Indeed the framework of this latter play,

apart from its incidental attacks

on other authors, is a defence
of < Cynthia's' severity. Says Cupid (i. 1) 'The huntress :

and queen of these groves, Diana, in regard of some black

and envious slanders hourly breathed against her for divine

justice on Actaeon . . . hath . . .

proclaim'd a solemn revels,
which (her godhead put off) she will descend to grace.' The
play was acted before Elizabeth, and contains many
allusions

to the ' Presence.' After the masque, Cynthia thanks the

masquers (v. 3) :

'
For you are they, that not, as some have done,
Do censure us, as too severe and sour,
But as, more rightly, gracious to the good ;

Although we not deny, unto the proud,

Or the profane, perhaps indeed austere :

For so Actseon, by presuming far,

Did, to our grief, incur a fatal doom. . . .

Seems it no crime to enter sacred bowers

'
And hallow'd places with impure aspect.

In 1600, such lines can only have pointed to Essex- Actaeon's

mad intrusion into the presence of a Divine Virgin. In 1601
if, as some hold, these lines were a late addition, the reference
to Essex's execution was still more explicit.
We know that Essex had urged
the Scotch King, our James i.,
to enforce the recognition of his claim to the succession by
a show of arms, 1 and that James 'for some time after his
accession considered Essex a martyr to his title to the
2 3
English crown.' Mr. Fleay points out that '
Lawrence
Fletcher, comedian to His Majesty,' was at Aberdeen in

1
Queen Elizabeth, E. S. Beesley.
2
Criminal Trials, L. E. K. i. 394 ; quoted by Fleay.
3
History of the Stage, 136.
 INTRODUCTION xxxv
October 1601, and that Fletcher, Shakespeare, and the others
in his company, were recognised by James as his players im

mediately after his accession (1603). The title-page of the first

1

Hamlet (1603 entered in the Stationers' Registers, July 26,

:

1602) puts the play forward 'as it hath beene diverse times
acted by his Highnesse servants in the Cittie of London; as
also in the two Universities of Cambridge and Oxford, and
elsewhere.' Mr. Fleay, therefore, to my thinking, proves his
company was travelling
2 in 1601 whilst
case : that Shakespeare's
Ben Jonson's Cynthia was being played by the children of the
Chapel. In the light of these facts it is easy to understand
the conversation between Hamlet and Rosencrantz, Act ii. 2,

which, else, is shrouded in obscurity :

'
Hamlet. What players are they ?

Rosencrantz. Even those you were wont to take such delight in,
the tragedians of the City.
Hamlet. How chances it they travel ? Their residence, both in
reputation and profit, was better both ways.
Rosencrantz. I think their inhibition comes by means of the late
innovation.
Hamlet. Do they hold in the same estimation they did when I
was in the City ? are they so followed ?
Ronencrantz. No, indeed they are not.
Hamlet. How comes it ? Do they grow rusty ?
Rosencrantz. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace ;
but there is, sir, an eyrie of children, little eyases that cry
out on the top of question and are most tyrannically clapped
for't these are now the fashion, and so berattle the
:

common stages so they call them that many wearing

rapiers are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come

1
Thelicense is quoted by Halliwell-Phillipps in full, Outlines, ii. 82.
3 '
Mr. Sidney Lee (Die. Nat. Biog. Shakespeare '), objects that there is
nothing to indicate that Fletcher's companions in Scotland belonged to
Shakespeare's company. This hardly touches the presumption raised by
the fact that 'Fletcher, Comedian to His Majesty J i.e. to James as King
of Scotland in 1601, was patented with Shakespeare, Burbage, and others,
'
as the King's servants' on James's accession to the English throne in 1603.
xxxvi INTRODUCTION
thither. Faith, there has been much to do on both
. . .

sides,and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to con

troversy ; there was for a while no money bid for argument
unless the poet and the player went to cuffs on the ques
tion. . . .*

Hamlet. Do
the boys carry it away ?
Rosencrantz. Ay, that they do, my lord ; Hercules and his load
2
too/

The collection of such passages ; Shakespeare's professed

affection for
Southampton ; his silence when so many mourned
the Queen's death, marked (as it was) by a contemporary :

allthese indications tend to show that Shakespeare shared in

the political discontent which overshadowed the last years of
Elizabeth's reign. But it is safer not to push this conclusion,
and sufficient to note that the storms which ruined Essex and

Southampton lifted at least a ripple in the stream of Shake

3
speare's life.

To turn from Southampton to Shakespeare's other noble

patron, is to pass from the hazards of war and politics to

the lesser triumphs and disasters of a youth at Court.
Many slight but vivid pictures of Herbert's disposition and
conduct, during the first two years of his life at Court, are
found in the intimate letters of Rowland White to Herbert's
uncle, Sir Robert Sidney. 'My Lord Harbert' so he in

variably styles him 'hath with much a doe brought his

Father to consent that he may live at London, yet not
before next spring.'This was written 19th April 1597, when
Herbert was but seventeen. During that year a project was

1
See infra on the personal attacks in Cynthia's Revels and Poetaster.
2
I.e. the Globe Theatre.
3
I shall not pursue the further vicissitudes of
Southampton's adventurous
career, for the last of Shakespeare's Sonnets was written almost certainly
before the Queen's death or soon after.
 INTRODUCTION xxxvii
mooted between Herbert's parents and the Earl of Oxford
for his marriage with Oxford's daughter, Bridget Vere, aged
thirteen. 1 It came to nothing by reason of her tender
years, and Herbert, in pursuance of a promise extracted
from a father confined by illness to his country seat, came
up to town, and thrust into the many-coloured rout, with
all the flourish and the gallantry, and something also of the

diffidence and uneasiness, of youth. You catch glimpses of

him :
now, a glittering figure in the medley, watching his
mistress, Mary Fitton, lead a masque before the Queen, or
2
challenging at the Tournay in the
valley of Mirefleur an
equivalent for Greenwich, coined for the nonce, since both
place and persons must be masked after the folly of the hour ;

and again you find him sicklied with ague and sunk in melan
choly the Hamlet of his age, Gardiner calls him seeking his
sole consolation in tobacco.
I cannot refrain from transcribing Rowland White's
references in their order, so clean are the strokes with
which he hits off Herbert, so warm the light he sheds
on the Court that surrounded Herbert. 4th August 1599:
'My Harbert meanes
lord to follow the camp and bids
me write unto you, that if your self come not over, he
means to make bold with you and send for Sir
Bayleigh'
Robert Sidney's charger 'to Penshurst, to serve upon. If

you have any armor, or Pistols, that may steede him for him
self only,he desires he may have the Use of them till your
own llth August 1599:
Return.' 'He sent to my lady'
('Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother') 'to borrow Bayleigh.

1
Mr. Tyler, Shakespeare's Sonnets, p. 45, quotes the Rev. W. A. Harrison
and the original letters, discovered by him, which prove the existence of
this abortive contract.
2
This name belongs to 1606 ;
in 1600, however, he also jousted at
Greenwich.
xxxviii INTRODUCTION
She returned Answer, that he shall have it, but condition
this

ally, that if you

come over or send for yt to Flushing he may
restore yt, which he agrees to/ 18th August 1599
'
My Lord :

Harbert hath beene away from Court these 7 Daies in London,

swagering yt amongest the Men
of Warre, and viewing the

Maner of the Musters.' 8th September 1599: 'My lord

Harbert is a continuall Courtier, but doth not follow his

Business with that care as is fitt ; he is to cold in a matter of
such Greatness.' 12th September 1599: 'Now that my
lord Harbert is gone, he is much blamed for his cold and
weak maner of pursuing her Majestie's Favor, having had so

good steps to lead him unto it. There is want of spirit and
courage laid to his charge, and that he is a melancholy young
hope upon his return he will
'
man.' September 13, 1599 I :

with more lisse l

and care undertake the great matter, which
he hath bene soe cold On the 20th September 1599,
in.'
2

White perceives 'that Lord Nottingham would be glad to

'
have Lord Harbert match in his house i.e.
marry his daugh
ter. This, then, is the second project of marriage entertained
on Herbert's behalf. On Michaelmas Day, White describes
Essex's return, and you gather from many subsequent letters
how great was the commotion caused by his fall. The time/
'

he writes, September 30th, 'is full of danger,' and llth

October '
What the Queen will determine with hym is not
:

knowen; but I see litle

Hope appearing of any soddain
liberty.' Meanwhile Herbert steers clear of the eddies, and
prosecutes his cause with greater energy. Whilst South
ampton is a truant at the play, 'My lord Harbert' (llth

1
Fr. Liesse = Gaiety.
2
About this time his father underwent an operation for the stone, and, if
he had died under it, his
place in Wales would have gone to the Earl of
Worcester or the Earl of Shrewsbury. Herbert was to secure the reversion
to himself.
 INTRODUCTION xxxix
October), 'is at Court, and much bound to her Majestic for
her gracious Favor, touching the Resignation of the office of
Wales.' Herbert, indeed, seems to have been favoured by
all the Court faction, including even Sir Robert Cecil, the
chief enemy of Essex and, therefore, of Southampton. Nov
'
ember 24, 1 599 :
My lord Harbert is
exceedingly beloved
at Court of all men.' And 29th November 1599, '9000
is very well beloved here of all, especially
(Herbert) by 200
(Cecil) and 40 who protest in all places they love him.' In
the same letter, '9000 (Herbert) is highly favoured by 1500

(the Queen) for at his departure he had access unto her, and
was private an Houre but he greatly wants advise/
; On
28th December 1599, we find him sick with ague, and again,
5th January 1600: '
My Lord Harbert is sick of his tertian

ague at Ramesbury.' Onthe 12th January 1600 we have the

first notice of Mary Fitton '
Mrs Fitton is sicke, and gone
:

from Court to her Father's.' 19th January 1600: 'My lord

Harbert coming up towards the Court, fell very sicke at New-
berry, and was forced to goe backe again to Ramisbury.
'
Your pies, White continues, exhibiting the solicitude of uncle

young courtier, were very kindly

'
and mother alike for the

accepted there, and exceeding many Thankes returned. My

Lady Pembroke desires you to send her speedely over some
of your excellent Tobacco.' 1 24th January 1600: Herbert
has fallen to have his ague again, and no hope of his being
'

here before Easter.' 26th January 1600 He complains 'that :

he hath a continuall Paine in his Head, and finds no manner

of ease but by taking of Tobacco.' The mother's care ex
tended even to the lady, Mary Fitton, whom her son was soon
to love supposing, that is, that he did not love her already,
'
21st February 1600 :
My lady goes often to my Lady Lester,
1
Tobacco was first introduced by Nicot as a sovereign remedy against
disease.

d
xl INTRODUCTION
my Lady Essex and my Lady Buckhurst, where she is ex

ceeding welcome ; she visited Mrs. Fitton, that hath long bene
here sicke in London.' But her son was soon to recover. 26th

My f
lord Harbert they all well again;
February 1600:
is

remove upon Saturday to Wilton to the races; when that is

ended, my Lord Harbert comes up.' 22nd March 1600:

'My lord Harbert is at Court and desires me to salute you

I doubt not but you shall have great
very kindly from him.
comfort by him and I believe he will prove a great man in
Court. He is very well beloved and truly deserves it/
But some of the love he won brought danger in its train. The
next two references, describing the marriage of Mistress Anne
Russell to ' the other Lord Herbert/ viz., Lord Worcester's son,

picture a masquewhich Mrs. Fitton played a conspicuous

in

part before the eyes of her young lover. 14th June 1600 :

(
There is a memorable mask of 8 ladies they have a straunge ;

Dawnce newly invented ; their attire is this : Each hath a skirt

of cloth of silver, a rich wastcoat wrought with silkes, and gold

and silver, a mantell of Carnacion Taffete cast under the Arme,
and there Haire loose about their shoulders, curiously knotted
and interlaced. These are the maskers, My Lady Doritye,
Mrs. Fitton, Mrs. Carey, Mrs Onslow, Mrs. Southwell, Mrs.
Bes Russell, Mrs. Darcy and my lady Blanche Somersett.
These 8 daunce to the musiq Apollo bringes, and there is a fine
speech that makes mention of a ninth/ of course the Queen
'
much to her Honor and Praise/ The ceremony was honored '

by Her Majestie's Presence/ and a sennight later we hear how

all passed off. 23rd June l600: f
After supper the maske
came in, as I writ in my last; and delicate it was to see 8
ladies soe pretily and richly attired. Mrs. Fitton leade, and
after theyhad donne all their own ceremonies, these 8
Ladys
maskers choose 8 ladies more to daunce the measures. Mrs.
Fitton went to the Queen, and wooed her to
daunce; her
 INTRODUCTION xli

Majesty asked what she was Affection, she said. Affection

; !

said the Queen. Affection is false. Yet her Majestic rose and
daunced.' 'The bride was lead to the Church by Lord
. . .

'
Harbert/ and the Gifts given that day were valewed at 1000
in Plate and Jewels at least/ Nine months later Mrs. Fitton
bore Herbert an illegitimate child ; but meanwhile he pursued
his career as a successful courtier. 8th August 1600: 'My
lord Harbert is
very well thought of, and keapes company with
the best and gravest in Court, and is well thought of amongst
them.' The next notice, in the circumstances as we know them,
is not surprising. l6th August 1600: ' My lord Havbert is
I now heare litle of that matter intended by 600
very well.
(Earl of Nottingham) towards hym, only I observe he makes
very much of hym but I don't find any Disposition at all in
;

this gallant young lord to marry.'

With the next we come Herbert's training for the to

tournament, and gather something of his relations with the

learned men whom his mother had collected at Wilton to
instruct him in earlier years. Mr. Sandford had been his
tutor, sharing that office, at one time, with Samuel Daniel,
the poet and author of the Defence of Rhyme. 26th Sep
tember 1600 :
'
My Lord Harbert resolves this yeare to
shew hymselfe a man Armes, and prepared for yt ; and
at

because it is his first tyme of runninge, yt were good he came

in some excellent Devize,I make it known to
your lordship
that if you please to honor my lord Harbert with your advice ;

my feare is, that Mr. Sandford will in his Humor, persuade my

lord to some pedantike Invention.' Then, 18th October 1600:
'
My lord Harbert will be next weeke at Greenwich, to prac
all

tice at Tylt. He often wishes you here. Beleve me, my lord,

he is a very gallant Gentleman and, indeed, wants such a Frend
as you are neare unto him.' Again, 24th October 1600: 'Lord
'
Harbert is at Greenwich practicing against the Coronation (?) ;
xlii INTRODUCTION
and, 30th October 1600 :
<My lord Harbert is practicing at

Greenwich, I sent him word of this ; he leapes, he dawnces,

he singes, he gives cownterbusses, he makes his Horse runne
with more speede; he thanckes me, and meanes to be exceeding
in Baynard's Castel, when you must
merry with you this winter
take Phisicke.' The rest is silence ; for Rowland White, the
succeeded in the
intimate, the garrulous, is Sidney Papers by
duller correspondents, who attend more strictly to affairs of

state, and the issue of Herbert's intrigue is learned from other

sources. But before I draw on them, let me set Clarendon's
finished picture of Herbert 1
by the side of these early thumb
nails: He <
was a man
very well bred, and of excellent parts,
and a graceful Speaker upon any subject, having a good propor
tion of Learning, and a ready Wit to apply it, and enlarge upon
it : of a pleasant and facetious humour, and a disposition affable,

generous, and magnificent. Yet his memory must not be

. . .

Flatter' d, that his virtues, and good inclinations may be

believ'd he was not without some allay of Vice, and without

;

being clouded with great Infirmities, which he had in too

exorbitant a proportion. He indulged to himself the Pleasures
of all kinds, almost in all excesses. To women, whether out of
his natural constitution, or for want of his domestick content
and delight (in which he was most unhappy, for he paid too
dear for his Wife's Fortune, by taking her Person into the

bargain) he was immoderately given up. But therein he like

wise retain'd such power, and jurisdiction over his very appetite,
that he was not so much transported with beauty, and outward

allurements, as with those advantages of the mind, as manifested

an extraordinary wit, and spirit, and knowledge, and admini-
stred great pleasure in the conversation. To these he sacrificed
Himself, his precious time, and much of his fortune. And
some, who were nearest his trust and friendship, were not
1
History of the Rebellion, ed. 1705, vol. i. book i.
p. 57.
 INTRODUCTION xliii

without apprehension, that his natural vivacity, and vigour

of mind begun to lessen and decline by those excessive Indul

gences.' In time he filled nearly all the greater offices of the

Court, and 'died of an Apoplexy, after a full and chearful

supper/ in 1 630, leaving no children from his marriage, but a
1
debt of 80,000 on his estate.
I have lingered over William Herbert, who, excepting
Southampton, received more dedicatory verses from poets, who
were also playwrights, than any other noble of his time; for,

whether or not he was the 'only begetter' of Shakespeare's

Sonnets, he was certainly Shakespeare's friend, and one of the
brightest particles in the shifting kaleidoscope of Court and
Stage. Though now one company and now another was in

hibited, the Court and Theatre were never in closer contact than

during the last years of Elizabeth's reign, when at Christmas

and Twelfth Night a play was almost invariably acted by request

'in the Presence.' Two companies of players were the servants
of the highest officers at the Court, the Lord Chamberlain and
the Lord Admiral. And the Lord Admiral was that Earl of

Nottingham who 'made very much' of Herbert and desired him

for a son-in-law. 2
The Theatre was dignified by the very trick
of majesty, and the Court transfigured by the spirit of mas

querade. Davies tells of Shakespeare in a ' Kingly part,'

picking up a glove let drop by Gloriana's self, with the gag :

'
And though now bent on this high embassy,
Yet stoop we to take up our cousin's glove.'
1
Court and Times of Charles /., ii. 73.
2
We
have a pretty picture of his kindness to Herbert's little cousin in
another letter of Rowland White to Sir R. Sidney. April 26th, 1600:
'All your children are in Health, the 3 greater, and litle Mr. Robert, were
at Court, and in the Presence at St. George's Feast, where they were much

respected. I brought up Mr. Robert, when the Knights were at dinner ;

who plaied the wagg soe pretily and boldly that all tooke Pleasure in him,
but above the rest, my lord Admirall, who gave him sweet meats and he
'

prated with his Honor beyond measure.

xliv INTRODUCTION
The tradition that Shakespeare played these parts is persistent,
and I cannot doubt that his allusion to himself
was obvious to
his audience when he puts into Hamlet's
mouth these words :

<
He that plays the King shall be welcome ;
his majesty shall

have tribute of me/ 1

almost certain that Mary Fitton, the Queen's Maid

It is

of Honour, was on intimate terms with the players in the

Lord Chamberlain's (Shakespeare's) Company; for Kempe,
who played the Clown's part, seems to have dedicated to
her the account of his famous Morris to Norwiche,
2 as he

writes, 'to shew my duety to your honourable selfe, whose

(among other bountifull frends) makes me (despight

favour of

this sad world) judge my hart corke and my heeles feathers.'

Such an intimacy is intrinsically probable from her relations
with Herbert,who prosecuted Shakespeare with his favour/
'

from the custom of the age, and above all from her own
Elsewhere you read 3 that ' in the tyme
fantastic disposition.

when that Mrs. Fytton was in great favour, and one of her
Majestic' s maids of honor (and during the tyme yt. the Earle of
Pembroke favoured her), she would put off her head tire and
4

tucke upp her clothes, and take a large white cloak, and march

1
Personal allusions were the sauce of every play. Cf. Jonson's Cynthia's
Revels (1600) Act v. 2 :

*
Amorphus. Is the perfume rich in this jerkin ?
Perfumer. Taste, smell ; I assure you, sir, pure benjamin, the only
spirited scent that ever awaked a Neapolitan nostril.'

Jonson is constantly called 'Benjamen' (Bengemen) in Henslowe's Diary.

2
Entered at Stationers' Hall, 22nd April 1600. The dedication, it is

true, gives'Anne,' almost certainly in error, for Mary Fitton. Anne, so far
as we know, was never a Maid of Honour, and can
hardly have been one in
1600 since she had married Sir John Newdigate in 1585. See W. Andrews,
Bygone Cheshire, p. 150. He quotes Rev. W. A. Harrison.
3
In a document (assigned by Mr. Tyler after a pencil note on it to Oct.
1602). Domestic Addenda, Elizabeth, vol. xxxiv. Mary Fitton suffered
from hysteria (Gossip from a Muniment Room, 1897, p. 27).
4
Herbert succeeded, 1601.
 INTRODUCTION xlv
as though she had bene a man to meete her lover,, William
Herbert.' The inspiration of Shakespeare's laughter-loving
heroines in doublet and hose need not, then, have come
1
exclusively from boys playing in women's parts.
But there are shadows in the hey-day pageantry of this Court
which borrowed the trappings and intrigues of the Stage, and
something of its tragedies also. In 1601 Southampton is
arrested, and Essex dies on the scaffold for the criminal folly of
the Rising. In the same spring William Herbert is disgraced and

imprisoned, because Mary Fitton is to bear him a child, and he

' 2
utterly renounceth all marriage.' In truth 'twas a dare-devil

1
Marston. Sat. ii.
(1598):
'
What sex they are, since strumpets breeches use,
And all men's eyes save Lynceus can abuse.'
3
Mr. Tyler (Shakespeare's Sonnets, 1890, p. 56) quotes (i) the postscript of
a February 5, 1601, from Sir Robert Cecil to Sir George Carew
letter, We :
'

have no news but that there is a misfortune befallen Mistress Fitton, for she is
proved with child, and the Earl of Pembroke, being examined, confesseth a
fact,but utterly renounceth all marriage. I fear they will both dwell in the
Tower awhile, for the Queen hath vowed to send them thither (Calendar of '

Carew MSS.). (2) A letter in the Record Office from Tobie Matthew to
Dudley Carleton, March I am in some hope of your sister's
'
25, 1601 :

enlargement shortly, but what will happen with the Erie I cannot tell'
(W. E. A. Axon in William Andrews' Bygone Cheshire, 1895). In 1606 (?)
Mary's mother writes
'
I take no joye to heer of your sister, nore of that
:

boy, had pleased God when I did hear her, that she hade bene beried, it
if it

hade saved me from a gret delle of sorow and gryffe, and her ffrom shame, and
such shame as never have Cheshyre Woman ; worse now than evar, wright
no more of her.' Ibid. Tyler quotes a document of the late Rev. F. C.
Fitton copied by his father (b. 1779) from a MS. by Ormerod, author of
he History of Cheshire, containing this entry:

Capt. Lougher = Mary Fitton = Capt. Polwhele

ist husband Maid of Honour had 2nd husband
one bastard by Wm.
E. of Pembroke, and
two bastards by Sir
Richard Leveson, Kt.
This entry is confirmed, though the order of Mary Fitton's marriages is
reversed, by an extract, communicated by Lord de Tabley to the Rev. W. A.
xlvi INTRODUCTION
Sir Nicholas 1' Estrange
age of large morals and high spirits.
Knollys lodged at Court, where
<

reports that when Sir

William
some of the ladyes and maydes of Honour us'd to friske and hey
about in the next room, to his extreme disquiete a nights,

though he often warned them of it at last he getts in one ;

their re veils, off his and so with a

night at stripps shirt,

and Aretine comes

payre of spectacles on his nose
in his hand,

marching in at a posterne door of his owne chamber, reading

very gravely, full upon the faces of them/
He enjoyed his joke :

'
for he fac'd them and often traverst the roome in this posture
above an houre/ As the coarse web of Elizabethan embroidery
shows beneath the delicate ornament and between the applied
patches of brilliant colour, so in the manners of Elizabeth's
Court does a texture, equally coarse, run visibly through the
refinements of learning and the bravery of display. Even in
the amusements of the Queen, who read Greek and delighted
in Poetry, do we find this intermingling of the barbarous, of
'
'
the Gothic in the contemptuous application of that byword,
and also of that unconscious humour which we read into archaic

Harrison, from a very large (elephant) folio of Cheshire Genealogies with

coloured arms, thus :

Sir Edward ffitton

of Gawesworth
I

Captaine = Mary = Captaine This Mary Fitton had by Will.

Lougher ffitton Polewheele Herbert Earle of Pembroke a
2 husb. mayd of i. husband bastard. And also by Sir
honour Richard Lusan she had two
bastard daughters.
Some years later Mary's mother writes to her daughter Anne that Polewhele
'
is a veri knave, and taketh the
disgrace off his wyff and all her ffryndes to
make the world thynk hym worthy of her and that she dessarved no better.'
Also about 1606-7 Mary's aunt, wife of Sir Francis Fitton, denounces her
*
niece as the vyles woman under the sun.'
Mary was baptized at Gawes
worth, June 24, 1578, so that her age was 22-23 in
March 1601. Cf. also
Lady Newdigate-Newdegate's Gossip from a Muniment Room, 1897.
 INTRODUCTION xlvii
art. 'Her Majesty is
very well/ writes Rowland White (12th
May 1600); 'this Day she appointes to see a Frenchman doe
Feates upon a Rope, in the Conduit Court. To-morrow she
hath commanded the Beares, the Bull and the Ape, to be
baited in the Tiltyard. Upon Wednesday she will have
solemne Dawncing.' An archaic smile is graven on the faces
above the ruff of this Renaissance Cynthia, and our Ninth
Muse is also our 'Good Queen Bess/ own daughter to 'Bluff

King Hal.' Sometimes she proceeded somewhat drastically

to adjust her several diversions: 'On 25th July 1591 the
Privy Council wrote to the Lord Mayor directing the suppression
of plays on Sundays and on Thursdays, because it interfered
with bear-baiting, which was maintained for Her Majesty's
'
pleasure, if occasion require/
l
This singular ground was but
one, and certainly the least, of many, for interfering with the
Theatres. They shut automatically whenever the number of
plague-cases reached a statutory limit and they were closed, ;

I have surmised, for political reasons, and also, more than

once, for handling religious controversies.

VI

Soon after Shakespeare's advent, the Martin Marprelate con

troversy, begun in 1588, overflowed from the press 2 to the stage. 3
Shakespeare, without doubt, saw Martin, the pseudonymous
persona of the Reformers, caricatured by their antagonists, with
a cock's comb, an ape's face, a wolfs belly, and a cat's claws, 4

1
Fleay : from Chalmers's Apology ', p. 379.
2
The pamphlets are alluded to by Shakespeare. Nash, in Strange News, etc. ,

January 12, 1593, p. 194, mentions Lyly's Almond for a Parrot and ,
bids
Gabriel (Harvey) respice funem. Cf. Comedy of Errors, iv. 4:
Dro. E. Mistress, Respice funem, or rather, the prophecy like the parrot,
'
Beware the rope's end.' FLEAY.
8
Before August 1589. Arber, Introduction to Martin Marprelate. Fleay,
History of the Stage, p. 92.
4
Lyly's Pap with a Hatchet, about September 1589. Arber.
xlviii INTRODUCTION
<
the better to scratch the face of Divinity ; he also saw blood
1

2
and humour taken from him, on the very boards perhaps, of
'

the theatre in which he These astounding products of

played.
intolerance, coupled with the prevailing taste for
religious
mountebank bear-fighting, led to the staying of all plays in the
City bythe Lord Mayor (Harte) at the instance of Lord Wal-
3
acting on representations from Tilney,
Master of the
singham
Revels. The Admiral's players and Lord Strange's i.e., Shake
speare and his colleagues were summoned arid inhibited. But
Lord Strange's company contumaciously shifted its venue, and
played that afternoon at the Cross Keys so two of the players ;

were committed to the Counter and prohibited till further

orders. 4 On the death of Ferdinando Lord Strange, Shake
5
speare and his colleagues joined the Chamberlain's Company.
And, in July 1597, they, with other companies, were again in
difficulties, probably of a like origin. The Privy Council,
acting on a letter from the Lord Mayor, directed the Justices
of Surrey and Middlesex ' nerest to London,' to prohibit all
' '

plays within London or about the city,' and to pluck down

'

the theatres :
alleging 'the lewd matters handled on the stage'
as the first ground for such action. 6 The city fathers had com-

1
Nash, Pasqutfs Return, October 1589.
2
Nash, Countercuffe to Martin Junior, August 1589.
3
Fleay.
4
Lyly, Pap -with a Hatchet ', September 1589: 'Would these comedies
(against Martin) might be allowed to
'
be played that are penned. Fleay, The
English Drama, ii. 39.
5
Mr. Fleay, in his Index lists of Actors, places
Shakespeare in Leicester's
Company, 1587-9; in LordStrange's, 1589-93; in the Chamberlain's, 1594-
1603. From his list of Companies it appears that on the death of
Henry Carey,
Lord Hunsdon, July 22, 1596, who had been Chamberlain since
1585,
George Carey, Lord Hunsdon, took over the Company under his own name
until, on the 27th April 1597, he succeeded Lord Chamberlain who Brook,
died the 5th of the preceding March. He kept on the Company as Chamber
lain from then till 1603.
6
Halliwell, Illustrations, p. 21, quoting 'Registers of the
Privy Council.'
 INTRODUCTION xlix

plained that the theatres tempted their apprentices to play

'
truant ; but the ' matters handled on the stage must have
counted for as much, or more, in fostering their puritanical
opposition.
High among the causes of offence to the ultra-protestant
faction at this time, I must reckon the name first given to the
Sir John Henry IV. viz., Sir John
Falstaff of Shakespeare's

Oldcastle; for Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, had died a

Protestant martyr, burned for Lollardy by Henry v. Some
traces of this initial offence survive in the revised version,

published in quarto, the first part in 1598, the second in

1600. Thus (Part I. r. ii.) :

Falstaff. And is not my hostess wench

'
of the tavern a most sweet ?

Prince. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the Castle.'

In Part II. i. ii. line 113 the Quarto, instead of the Fal. given
1
later in all the Folios, prefixes Old. to FalstatFs speech.
In ii. iii. 2. Shallow is made to say: 'Then was Jack
Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy and Page to Thomas Mowbray,
Duke of Norfolk' a post actually filled by the historical

Oldcastle. 2 In the Epilogue to Part ii. the old name is

explicitly withdrawn :
'
Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless

already a' be killed with your hard opinions ; for Oldcastle

died a martyr, and this is not the man.' The whole
transaction is set forth by Fuller in a passage which I have
not seen quoted. 3
In his life of John Fastolfe, Knight,
On Lord Chamberlain Brook (cf. Note 5 ) and succession of
the death of
George Carey, Lord Hunsdon, this action was annulled, and his players took
possession of the Curtain.
1
Theobald concluded that the play being printed from the Stage manu
script, Oldcastle had been all along alter'd into Falstaff, except in this single
place, by an oversight, of which the printers not being aware, continued the
initial traces of the original name.' Malone rejects this conclusion, but the
evidence against him is decisive.
2
Boaz, Shakspere and his Predecessors, 1896, p. 260.
3
The History of the Worthies of England^ published posthumously by
1 INTRODUCTION
he writes :
'
To avouch him by many arguments valiant, is

to maintain that the sun is bright, though since the Stage

hath been over bold with his memory, making him a Thra
sonical Puff] and emblem of Mock-valour. True it is Sir John
Oldcastle did first bear the brunt of the one, being made the
make-sport in all plays for a coward. It is
easily known out
of what purse this black peny came. The Papists railing on him
for a Heretick, and therefore he must alsobe a coward, though
indeed he was a man of arms, every inch of him, and as valiant
as any in his age. Now
as I am glad that Sir John Oldcastle is

put out, so I am sorry that Sir John Fastolfe is put in, to relieve

his memory in this base service, to be the anvil for every dull
wit to strike upon. Nor is our Comedian *
excusable by some
alteration him Sir John Falstafe (and
of his name, writing

making him the property of pleasure for King Henry the Fifth,
to abuse) seeing the vicinity of sounds intrench on the
memory
of that worthy Knight, and few do heed the inconsiderable
difference
in spelling of their name.'

But the matter does not end here. Shakespeare's name

appears on the title-page of another play, also published in
quarto in the same year, 1600 :

'
The first part
of the true and hono
rable history, of the life of
Sir John Old-castle, the good
Lord Cob ham.
As it hath bene lately acted by the Right
honorable the Earle of Notingham
Lord High Admiratt of England
his servants.
Written by William Shakespeare
London, printed for T.P.
1600.'

Fuller's son, 1662. This passage in the account of Norfolk must have been
written less by a great deal than
forty years after Shakespeare's death.
1
Shakespeare, without a doubt. Cf. Fuller's account of him, infra.
 INTRODUCTION li

Now, Shakespeare did not write this play, and his

1
only name
It has, accordingly, been urged
appears on certain copies.
that his name was added to enhance the value of a pirated
edition. Yet I find it hard to believe that any one can have
off such a play as Shakespeare's. It was
hoped to palm
written for and acted by the rival Company (the Admiral's)

during the run of Shakespeare's Henry IV., abnormally pro

longed during several years, off and on, by the popularity of
this very character. It is also, in fact and on the face of it,
a protestant pamphlet, written specifically in reply to Shake

speare's abuse of Oldcastle's name.

This is apparent from
the Prologue, the significance of which has not, I believe, been
noted :

'
The doubtfull Title (Gentlemen) prefix!
Upon the Argument we have in hand,

May breed suspence, and wrongfully disturbe

The peacefull quiet of your settled thoughts.
To stop which scruple, let this breefe suffice.
It is no pamper d Glutton we present,
Nor aged Counsellor to youthful sinne ;
But one, whose vertue shone above the rest,
A and a vertuous Peere, 2
valiant martyr,
In whose true faith and loyalty exprest
Unto his Soveraigne, and his Countries weale :

We strove to pay that tribute of our love

Your favours merit let faire Truth be grac'd
:

Since forg'd invention former time defacd.'

1
We know from Henslowe's Diary that it was written by M(ichael)
D(rayton) A(nthony) M(onday), Hathway and Wilson, who were paid in
full, 10, October 16, 1599, with a gift of IDS. for the first playing in
November. Fleay, History of the Stage, p. 108.
2
The astounding inaccuracy of Mr. Carter (Shakespeare : Pttritan and
Recusant] may be illustrated as above from his handling of this subject.
He attributes this line to Shakespeare, and gives it to the Merry Wives \

In the same paragraph, p. 144, he gives the early use of the name Oldcastle
'
to the Merry Wives instead of Henry IV., and the phrase, Oldcastle died
a martyr, and this is not the man,' also to the Merry Wives instead of to the
Epilogue, II. Henry IV.
lii INTRODUCTION
The villain and principal character of the Play, which follows
'
is a Priest who turns highwayman for
to grace fair truth/
his leman's sake, robs the King in a scene inverted from
Prince Hal's escapade, is discovered, in dicing against him,

through staking a stolen angel

which the King had marked,
commits murder, and is hanged in chains. The addition
finally

of Shakespeare's name to a missile so violently retorted against

his handiwork may well be but an insolent device, for which

there are many analogues in the controversial amenities of the
1
time.
VII

If there be dark shadows in the life of the Court, there

are shadows, also dark enough, in the other brilliant world of

letters.Greene starves in a garret (September 1592). Marlowe,
his Hero and Leander yet unpublished, is stabbed to death in
a tavern brawl (1593). And, apart from the squalid tragedy
of their deaths, these great men of letters were literary
Mohocks in their lives. There are few parallels to the

savage vindictiveness of the Marprelate controversy, and the men

who could wield such weapons were ever ready to lay them with

amazing truculence about the shoulders of any new adventurer

into the arena of their art. Shakespeare came in for his share
of the bludgeoning from the outset. The swashing blows of
Tom Nash, in his address
'
To the Gentlemen students of
both 2
Universities'
(prefixed to Greene's
Menaphon, 1589)
whistled suspiciously near his head, and must, at least, have
been aimed at some of his new colleagues. 3 And they are
1
E.g. Jonson having attacked Dekker in The Poetaster, a play into which
he introduces himself as Horace, Dekker retorted in Satiromastix by lifting
one of Jonson's characters, Tucca, the better to rail at Jonson, again under
his self-chosen name of Horace.
2
Dated by Ed. Arber.
3
It is a common practice now a daies
'
Ibid.
amongst a sort of shifting
comparisons, that runne through every arte and thrive by none, to leave the
 INTRODUCTION liii

'
but a part of the general attack delivered by the University
'

pens upon the actors and authors of the new Drama Who :
'

trade of noverint (i.e. attorney) whereto they were borne, and busie themselves
with the indevors of Art, that could scarcelie latinise their necke-verse (to
claim benefit of clergy) if they had neede ; yet English Seneca read by candle
night yeeldes manie good sentences, as Bloudis a beggar, and so foorth ; and if
you intreate him faire on a frostie morning, he will affoord you whole Hamlets,
I should say handfulls of tragical speaches.' Mr. Arber has argued that this
passage does not refer to Shakespeare, (i) because his play of Hamlet was not
yet written, (2) because it applies only to translators. On the other hand
(i) the earlier Hamlet, referred to here and in Dekker's Satiromastix, was acted

by Shakespeare's colleagues, and may have been retouched by him before he

produced the two versions attributed to his authorship if indeed the Quarto of
1603 can be called a separate version, and be not a pirated edition made from
shorthand notes. (2) Although the whole passage refers to translators, this
and other incidental remarks are clearly directed against the new drama. Titus
Andronicus is ascribed by Mr. Dowden to the preceding year, and is said
by Baynes to reflect the form of Seneca's later plays. Out of four plays acted
by Shakespeare's company, June 3-13, 1594, three bear the titles of plays after
wards ascribed to him, viz., Androniciis, Hamlet, The Taming of the Shrew
(Fleay, History of the Stage, p. 97). Many other plays with titles afterwards
borne by plays indubitably rewritten by Shakespeare, were acted even earlier.
Fleay and Dowden agree substantially in placing Love's Labour 's Lost, Love's
Labour Won (Much Ado about Nothing), Comedy of Errors, Romeo and
Juliet, Two Gentlemen of Verona, three parts of Henry VI., All*s well that
ends well, Troylus and Cressida, The Jealous Comedy (Merry Wives of
Windsor], and Twelfth Night in the early years, 1588-1593. Without even
considering the date at which Shakespeare may be called sole author of a
play (for that is a wholly different question), we may infer that his practice
of adding touches to the stock MSS. of his company was one which grew
with the popular success attending it. If that be so, an attack in 1589 on
a play, afterwards appropriated to Shakespeare, cannot be said to miss him.
The extensive habit of anonymity and collaboration in the production of
plays shows that they were regarded simply as the property of the company,
and were paid in full when the authors received their fee. The profits were
shared cf. Tucca to Histrio, the impresario, after the exhibition of acting
:

by his two boys Well, now fare thee well, my honest penny-biter
'
: :

commend me to seven shares and a half, and remember to-morrow. If you

lack a service (i.e. a patron whose service should protect against the
statute) you shall play in my name, rascals ; but you shall buy your own
cloth, and I'll have two shares for my countenance.' It was a matter of
business, and remained so until the fame of certain authors led to publication.
Drayton's Plays of which he was sole author have all perished.
liv INTRODUCTION
of arrogance) think to outbrave better
(mounted on the stage
of a bragging blank verse.'
pens with the swelling bombast
'
Playersavant' was their war-cry and, when Greene himself
l
;

uttersit, he does not

leave the reference in doubt. In a Groat's

Worth of Wit Bought with a Million of Repentance (1 592) he warns

in the
Marlowe, Peele, and Lodge, his particular friends
fraternity of 'ballet makers, pamphleteers, press-haunters,
2
boon pot-poets, and such like/ to beware of players Those :
'

puppets, who speak

from our mouths, those anticks garnisht in
our colours. . . .
Yes/ he goes on,
'
trust them not ; for there

is an upstart crow, beautified in our feathers, that, with his

tigers heart wrapt 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
Shakescene in a country.'
You find the same attitude towards players in The Return
from Parnassus.* Acting is the basest trade/ (iv. 5), and
'

again (v. 1) :

'
Better it is mongst fiddlers to be chiefe,
Than at plaiers trenchers beg reliefe.'

Such is the conclusion of the two Scholars in the play after

exhausting every expedient to win a livelihood by their learning.

'
They go on to attack those glorious vagabonds/
'
That carried earst their fardels on their backes/

1
From a poem by Thomas Brabine, gent. ; also appended to Greene's
Menaphon.
2
Lodge :
cf. W. Raleigh, The English Novel.
3 A line parodied from the 3rd Henry VI. :
'
Recently revised, if

not originally written, by Shakespeare.' Baynes, 105.

4
Acted by the students of St. John's College, Cambridge.
 INTRODUCTION lv
'

grudging them their coursers/ and and pages/

' ' l '
Sattan sutes
since
'
With mouthing words that better wits had framed,
1

They purchase lands, and now Esquires are made/

The last shot must surely have been aimed at Shakespeare, who
had procured a grant of arms for his father in 1 599, and had

purchased 107 acres of arable for 320 in 1602. But the

date of this Play is uncertain Mr. Arber argues for January in
:

that year, and this would cast doubt on the reference. On the
other hand, Burbage and Kempe, Shakespeare's colleagues, are
introduced in their own persons (iv. 5), when Kempe thus
trolls it off:
'
Few of the University pen plaies well, they smell
too much of that writer Ovid, and that writer Metamorphosis,
and talke too much of Proserpina and Juppiter. Why, heres
our fellow Shakespeare puts them all downe, I and Ben Jonson
too. O, that Ben Jonson is a pestilent fellow, he brought up
Horace giving the Poets a pill, 2 but our fellow Shakespeare hath
given him a purge that made him beray his credit.' Controversy
has raged round this passage ; but it seems certain (a) that, in
common with the whole scene, it is an ironical reflection on the
ignorance and the social success of the players ; and (6) that it
refers to Dekker's Satiromastix or The Untrussing of the Humorous

Poet. This play, in which Dekker retorted upon The Poetaster,

was published in 1602; but, of course, it had before been pre

publickly by the Lord Chamberlaine his servants, and

'
sented
3
privately by the Children of Paules.'

vni

Of more importance than all the '

paper warres in Paules
'

Church-yard was this famous campaign fought out upon the

1 ' '
Satin suits is one of the catchwords in the duel between Jonson and
Dekker. Infra.
2
Viz., in The Poetaster, v. i.
3
Title-page.
e
Ivi INTRODUCTION
stage the Poetomachia 1
in which Dekker and Jonson were
'

protagonists. As distinguished from the onslaught of the uni

versity pens/ it was a civil war, involving most of the leading

playwrights and actors. It raged for years;

2
we know that
of it ; and if it be
Shakespeare must have been in the thick
to for certain on which side he was ranged, it
impossible say
is easy to hazard a guess.
Of his attitude towards Jonson we know little. There is the
tradition that he introduced him to the stage ; there is the fact
that he acted in his plays in Every Man in His Humour, 1598,

immediately before the Poetomachia, and in Sejanus, l604>,

' '
soon after it ; there is Fuller's account of the wit combats
between them; 3 there is the tradition that Shakespeare enter-

1 '
Dekker's address To the World' prefixed to Satiromastix.
Jonson, as the Author, in the 'Apology,' appended to The Poetaster:
'
Three years
They did provoke me with their petulant styles
On every stage.'
3
The History of the Worthies of England, endeavoured by Thomas Fuller,
D.D. Published, unfinished, by 'the author's orphan, John Fuller,' in
1662. From its bulk we may judge that it occupied many years of
Thomas Fuller's life, so that it brings his account of Shakespeare fairly
close to the date of his death (1616), and well within the range of plausible
'
tradition. I quote the whole passage for its quaintness William Shake :

speare was born at Stratford on Avon in this county (Warwick) in whom

three eminent Poets may seem in some sort to be compounded. I. Martial

in the warlike sound of his Sur-name (whence some may conjecture him of a

Military extraction), 2iasti-vibrans or Shake-speare. 2. Ovid, the most

naturall and witty of all Poets, and hence it was that Queen Elizabeth
coming into a Grammar-school made this extempore verse :

'
Persias a Crab-staffe, Bawdy Martial, Ovid a fine wag'
3. Plautus, who was an
exact Comaedian, yet never any scholar, as our Shake
speare (if would confess himself. Adde to all these, that though his
alive)
Genius generally was jocular, and inclining him to festivity, yet he could
(when so disposed) be solemn and serious, as appears by his tragedies, so that
Heraditus himself (I mean if secret and unseen) might afford to smile at his
Comedies, they were so merry, and Democritus scarce forbear to smile at his
Tragedies, they were so mournfull.
'
He was an eminent instance of the truth of that Rule, Poeta non fit, sed
 INTRODUCTION Ivii

tained Jonson and Drayton at Stratford on the eve of his death. 1

Against these proofs of good-fellowship there is the con

2
jecture, founded on Kempe's speech quoted above, that
Shakespeare had a hand in the production of Dekker's Saliro-
mastix 3 and, perhaps, played William Rufus in it. Of Jonson's
attitude towards Shakespeare we know more, but the result is

ambiguous. We have
the two poems in Underwoods the second,

surely, the most splendid tribute ever paid by one poet to

another? But, then, we have Jonson's conversations with
Drummond of Hawthornden, in which he spared Shakespeare as
little as any, layingdown that he ' wanted art and sometimes
sense/ We have, also, the strong tradition that Jonson treated
Shakespeare with ingratitude. This may have sprung from the
charge of malevolence preferred against Jonson, so he tells us
himself, by Shakespeare's comrades (Discoveries
'
De Shak- :

'
speare nostrat.'). 'I remember/ he says, the players have often
mentioned it as an honour to Shakspeare, 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/ In this passage we

nascitur, one is not made, but born a Poet. Indeed, his learning was very
little, so that as Cornish diamonds are not polished by any lapidary, but are

pointed and smoothed even as they are taken out of the Earth, so Nature
itself was all the art which was used upon him.

Many were the wit-combates betwixt him and Ben Jonson, which two I
'

behold like a Spanish Great Gallion, and an English Man of IVar ; Master
Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning, solid, but slow in
his performances. Shake-spear with the English Man of War, lesser in bulk,
but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about and take advantage
of all winds, by the quickness of his Wit and Invention. He died Anno
Domini 16 . . and was buried at Stratford upon Avon, the Town of His
'
Nativity.
1 * *
Shakespeare, Drayton, and Ben Jonson had a merry meeting, and itt
seems drank too hard, for Shakespeare died of a feaver there contracted.'
Diary of Ward, Vicar of Stratford, bearing the date 1662.
2
T. Tyler and R. Simpson.
3
Acted by his Company, the Lord Chamberlain's.
 Iviii INTRODUCTION
of Shakespeare, the
probably have Jonson's settled opinion
artist and the man. He allows his excellent phantasy, brave
notions and gentle expressions wherein he flowed/ but, he

qualifies,
(
with that facility, that sometimes it was necessary he
should be stopped/ He admits that '
his wit was in his own
power/ but adds :' Would the rule of it had been so too, many
times he fell into those things could not escape laughter/ As
arrogant as men (and scholars) are made, Jonson found some
of Shakespeare's work ' ridiculous' ; but he was honest, and
when he loved the man, and do honour his memory,
says,
'
I

on this side idolatry, as much as any,' we must believe him.

But we are not to infer with GifFord that Drummond mis

represented Jonson, or that Jonson, during the Poetomachia,

did not trounce Shakespeare for rejecting, with success, the
Jonsonian theory of the Drama.
GifFord, to minimise the authority of Drummond' s report,
'
'
denounces that Petrarchan for a of prey ; but his bird
whole apology for Ben Jonson is a piece of special pleading
too violent and too acerb to command much confidence.
He very wroth with the critics of the eighteenth century,
is

who had scented an attack on Shakespeare in the Prologue

to Jonson's Every Man in His Humour. But what are the
facts? The which Shakespeare had acted (1598), is
Play, in
published (1600) without the Prologue. A revised version is

published with the Prologue in l6l6, but, as Mr. Fleay has

1
proved from internal references to the 'Queen' and 'Her
Majesty/ that version must also have been acted before
Elizabeth's death (1603), and he adds an ingenious
argument
for assigning its production to the April of 1601. 2 In the added

1
The English Drama, vol. i.
p. 358.
2
Hi. Bobadil says
2, :'
To-morrow 's St. Mark's day.' It appears
from Cob's complaint that the play was acted on a Cf. Jonson's
Friday.
Bartholomew Fair, 1614 : 'Tales, Tempests and such like drolleries.'
 INTRODUCTION lix
'

Prologue Jonson denounces the ill customs of the age in

'

neglecting the Unities. He must justly hate to purchase

' '
' '

by the devices of those who

'
'
the delight of his audience
f
With three rusty swords,
And help of some few foot and half-foot words,
Fight over York and Lancaster's long jars,
And in the tyring house bring wounds to scars.'
With his usual complacency :

'
He rather prays you will be pleas'd to see
One such to-day, as other plays should be ;
Where neither chorus wafts you o'er the seas,' etc. etc.

Without referring these two gibes specifically to Shakespeare's

Henry VI. ii. and iii., and Henry V. (although the second
describes what the chorus in Henry V. was actually doing at the
time l
),
or the remaining lines to other plays from his hand, it is

clear that the whole tirade is an attack in set terms on the

kind of play which Shakespeare wrote, and which the public

preferred before Jonson's.

2
The attack is in perfect accord
with Jonson's reputation for militant self-sufficiency, and, if he
made friends again with Shakespeare, he also made friends again
with Marston. Dekker wrote thus of him '
'Tis thy fashion :

to ink in every man's face

flirt ; and then to crawle into his

bosome.' 8

1
Fleay, ibid.
2
Cf. the copy of verse by Leonard Digges (floruit 1617-1635) 'evidently
written,' says Halliwell-Phillipps, 'soon after the opening of the second
Fortune Theatre in 1623 :

*
Then some new day they would not brooke a line,
Of tedius (though well laboured) Catiline,
Scjanus was too irksome ; they prize the more
Honest lago, or the jealous Moore.
He goes on to say that Jonson's other plays, The Fox and The Alchemist,
even when acted ' at a friend's desire have scarce defrai'd the seacole
. . .

'
fire ; when
' ' '
let but Falstaffe come, Hal, Poins, or Beatrice and Bene-
'
dicke,' and loe, in a trice the cock-pit, galleries, boxes, all are full.'
3
Satiromastix.
Ix INTRODUCTION
In the Poetomachia Dekker and Marston were the victims
of Jonson's especial virulence, which spared neither the seami-
ness of an opposite's apparel nor the defects in his personal

appearance ; but it is hard to say whether they or he began

it. Drummond in his Conversations attributes the beginning of
5

Jonson's quarrel with Marston to Marston s having ' repre

'

sented him on the stage in his youth given to venery ; and

in Dekker s Patient Grissel (1599), in which Chettle had a
hand, Emulo may be Jonson for the taunt at his thin legs
; :

'
'
What 's here ? laths Where 's the lime and hair, Emulo ?
! :

is of a piece with innumerable jests at the expense of Jonson's

scragginess
l
and his early work at bricklaying. Jonson, at any
rate, did not reserve his fire till 1601, though in his apology to
The Poetaster he suggests that he did :

'
Three years
They did provoke me with their petulant styles
On every stage.'

It was in 1599 that he began the practice of

staging himself
and his fellows : himself as a high-souled critic, his fellows as
poor illiterates whose foibles it was his duty to correct. As
Asper in Every Man
His Humour (1559), as Crites 2 in
out of

Cynthia's Revels (1600), as Horace in The Poetaster (1601), he

professes a lofty call to reform the art and manners of his age.
This was too much for rivals in a
profession in any case highly
competitive, and rendered the more precarious by the capricious
inhibition of the
Companies for which its members wrote. It
was hard when their own men were ' 3
or idle, on
'

travelling
account of the Plague or for
having offended the authorities,
to be lampooned
by 'the children of the Chapel' playing
Jonson's pieces before the And at last in Satiro-
Queen.
1
He got fat in later life.
2
Criticus in an earlier version.
8
E.g. Shakespeare's Company in 1601. Fleay.
 INTRODUCTION Ixi

mastix (1602), Dekker gave as good as he got, through the mouth

of the Tucca he had borrowed from Jonson No, you starv'd
:
'

rascal, thou 't bite off mine eares then, thou must have three or
foure suites of names, when like a lousie Pediculous vermin
th 'ast but one suite to thy backe ; you must be call'd Asper,

and Criticus, and Horace, thy tytle's longer in reading than

the stile a the big Turkes :
Asper, Criticus, Quintus, Horatius,
Flaccus.'

Between the opening in 1599 and the end in 1602, the

wordy war never relaxes. Jonson staged Marston in Every
Man out of His Humour (1599) as Carlo Buffbne
1
: 'a public,
scurrilous and profane jester ... a good feast-hound and
f
banquet-beagle,' whose religion is railing and his discourse
'

ribaldry ; Dekker suggests that Jonson-

and, in Satiromastix,
dips his manners in too much
'
Horace, a tavern
if at supper he
sauce/ shall sit for a penalty a th' left hand of Carlo Biiffon.'
'

Jonson-Crites in Cynthia's Reveh (1600) attacks Hedon-Dekker

and Anaides-Marston (iii. 2) :

'
The one a light, voluptuous reveller,
The other a strange, arrogating puff,
Both impndent and arrogant enough.'
Dekker retorts by quoting the lines in Satiromastix; while Mar
ston parodies them in What You Will.- In The Poetaster (1601)
Jonson-Horace administers pills to Demetrius Fannius-Dekker
and Crispinus 3 (or Cri-spinas or Crispin-ass)-Marston, so that they
vomit on the stage such words in their vocabulary as offended
his purist taste. Dekker in Satiromastix,
'
untrusses the
Humorous poet/ i.e. tries Horace-Jonson, and condemns him to
wear a wreath of nettles until he swears, among other things,
1
Fleay rejects this attribution, but he is alone in his opinion.
2
Published 1607, ' written shortly after the appearance of Cynthia's
Revels' A. H. Bullen. Introduction to Works of John Marston, 1887.
Acted 1 60 1. Fleay.
3
Juvenal's
c
Ecce iterum Crispinus 'a notorious favourite of Domitian.
Ixii INTRODUCTION
not to protest that he would hang himself if he thought any man
'
could write Plays as well as he ; not to exchange compliments
with Gallants in the Lordes roomes, to make all the house rise
that 's
Armes, and to cry that's Horace, that 's he, that he,
's
up in
'

he, that pennes and purges Humours and diseases ; nor, when
at Court/ to crye Mew like a Pusse-
'
'
his playes are misse-likt
cat,' and say he is glad to write out
'
of the Courtier's Element.'
is mingled with
In all Plays acute literary criticism
these
brutal personal abuse. Thus, for sneering at seedy clothes and
bald or singular heads, 1 Horace is countered with his brick
'
full of oylet-holes, like
laying and his coppered face puncht
the cover of a warming pan.' One might hastily infer that
Jonson was the life-long enemy at least of Dekker and Marston.
Yet it was not so. Dekker had collaborated with him on the
eve of these hostilities,
2
though for the last time. Marston' s

shifting alliances are

merely bewildering : the very man whom
he one time he assists, at another, in libelling a third.
libels at

Outraged (you would think) by Jonson's reiterated onslaughts,

and conscious of equally outrageous provocation and retort, in
1604 he plasters Sejanus with praise; but next year, after the
failure of that Play,he hits it, so to say, when it is down. 3

1
Tttcca.
'
Thou wrongst heere a good honest rascall Crispinus, and a
poor varlet Demetrius Fannius (brethren in thine owne trade of Poetry) ; thou
sayst Crispinus' sattin dublet is reveal'd out heere, and that this penurious
sneaker is out of elboes.' Satiromastix.
Sir Vaughan. Master Horace, Master Horace .
'
then begin to make
. .

your railes at the povertie and beggerly want of hair.' Follows a mock heroic
eulogy of hair by Horace, thirty-nine lines in length. Ibid.
Tucca. * They have sowed up that broken seame-rent lye of thine that
Demetrius is out at Elbowes, and Crispinus is out with sattin. 'Ibid.
2
Dekker and Jonson are paid for Page of Plymouth, Aug. 20 and Sept.
'
2,
1599. Dekker, Jonson, and Chettle for Robert 2, King of Scots? Sept. 3,

15, 1 6,27, 1599. Henslowe's Diary , quoted by Fleay.

3
Preface to Sophonisba : 'Know that I have not laboured in this poem to
tie myself to relate anything as an historian, but to enlarge everything as a
poet. To transcribe authors, quote authorities and translate Latin prose
 INTRODUCTION Ixiii

Between the two pieces of attention he collaborates with

Jonson and Chapman in producing Eastward Ho. 1 He,
certainly, was no friend to Shakespeare ; 2 for when The
'
Metamorphosis of Pigmalion, his nasty' copy of Venus and
Adonis the epithet is his own failed as a plagiarism, he had
the impudence (Scourge of Villainy, vi.) to declare it a parody,
written to note
'
The odious spot
And blemish that deforms the lineaments
Of modern Poesy's habiliments.'
Yet he must have sided with Shakespeare now and then. As
we shall see.

But amidst the welter and confusion of this embroilment, it

is between opposed
possible to discern, if not a clear-cut line
forces, at least a general grouping about two standards. There
was the tribe of Ben, with Jonson for leader, and Chapman for
his constant, 3 Marston for his occasional, ally. And, to borrow
the war-cries of 1830, there was opposed to this Classical army
a Romantic levy, with Shakespeare, Dekker, and Chettle among

orations into English blank verse, hath, in this subject, been the least aim of
'

my studies : an obvious blow at Sejanus.

1
In which Warton (History of English Poetry, iv. 276, ed. 1824) discovers
' '

many satirical parodies of Shakespeare. Gifford replies ; but Gertrude's

parody of Ophelia's song, iii. 2, is a hard nut for the apologist, not to
insist on the name Hamlet given to a footman who is accosted by Potkins
Hamlet, are you mad ?
* '
with a S'foot,
2
He harps on one of Shakespeare's lines,
'
A man, a man, a kingdom for a man.'
The first line of Sat. vii. The Scourge of Villainy (1598).
'
A fool, a fool, a fool, my coxcomb for a fool.'
Parasitaster.
f
A boat, a boat, a full hundred marks for a boat.
'

Eastward Ho.
3
Jonson in his Conversations with Drummond said that he loved Chap
'

man.' They were imprisoned together for satirising James First's Scotch
Knights in Eastward ffo, but Chapman turned in his old age. One of his
latest poems arraigns Ben for his overweening arrogance.
Ixiv INTRODUCTION
its chiefs. Where much must be left to surmise, we know that

Chettle once went out of his way to befriend Shakespeare,

apologising handsomely for Greene's onslaught in A Groat's
Worth oj Wit, and contrasting him favourably with Marlowe ; and
that Dekker, as we gather from Kempe's speech in The Returne
from Parnassus, found Shakespeare an ally in his war against
Jonson. 1 We know, too,, from Henslowe's Diary, that Dekker
and Chettle collaborated in April and May 1599, on a play
7
called Troilus and Cressida, 2 and,
from the Stationers Registers,
that a play with that name was acted by the Lord Chamberlain's
servants (Shakespeare's Company) on February 7, 1603. May
we not have herein the explanation of Shakespeare's Troilus, in
which he caricatures the manners and motives of everybody
in the Greek (i.e. the Classic) tents? 3 This play and the
allusions to rival poets in the Sonnets are the two deepest
mysteries of Shakespeare's work. But if we accept the division

1
Some find an allusion to this in Jonson's dialogue acted, only once, at the
end of The Poetaster in place of an Author's apology, which the Authorities
had suppressed :

'
What they have done 'gainst me,
I am not moved with if it gave them meat
:

Or got them clothes, 'tis well ; that was their end,

Only amongst them, I am sorry for
Some better natures, by the rest so drawn
To run so vile a line.'

2
Trojellesand Cressida. Also in Patient Grissel, October 1599.
3
Shakespeare's Play was published in 1609, apparently in two editions (i) :

with 'As it was acted by the

King's Majestie's servants at the Globe (the title
of Shakespeare's
Company after 1603) ; and (2) with a preface stating that the
Play had never been 'Stal'd with the Stage.' But the two editions are
'absolutely identical,' even the Title-page being printed from the same forme.
Preface to Cambridge Shakespeare, vol. vi. This mystification does not affect
the overmastering
presumption that Shakespeare's Play, published in 1609,
and acted by his company between
1603-1609, was the Play, or a re-written
version of the Play, acted
by his Company in 1603. The presumption that
the 1603 Play was founded on that of Dekker and
Chettle is also strong.
Dekker's Satiromastix was
played by Shakespeare's Company in 1601.
 INTRODUCTION Ixv
of forces which I have suggested, a gleam of light may fall

on both. suppose that Shakespeare, who

It is reasonable to

habitually vamped old Plays, took the Dekker-Chettle play for

the staple of his own ; and, if he did, the satirical portions of his
Troilus and Cressida, so closely akin to the satire of Satiromastix,

may be a part of Dekker's attack on Chapman, Jonson, and

Marston. Chapman's of Shield Achilles and his Seaven Bookes
'

1
of the Iliades of Homere, Prince of Poets' appeared in 1598,
the year before the Dekker-Chettle Troilus, and were prefaced

by arrogant onslaughts, repeated again and again, upon apish

f

and impudent braggarts/ 2 men of ' loose capacities,' rank riders '

'
or readers who have no more souls than bur bolts upon all, :

in short, who prefer 'sonnets and lascivious ballads' before

(
Homerical poems.' If this suggestion be accepted, we have
3

Shakespeare, a Trojan, abetting the Trojan Dekker against

Chapman, an insolent Greek. Shakespeare's play, and Dekker's
of 1599, have surmised, it was the sketch which Shake
if> as I

speare completed, were founded, ultimately, on the mediaeval

romance into which the French Trouvere, Benoit de Sainte-
Maure, first introduced the loves of Troilus and Briseida, Roman
de Troie (1160) afterwards imitated by Boccaccio, Guido delle
Colonne, Chaucer and Caxton (Recuyell of the Histories of Troy}.*
In this traditional story, adapted to natter a feudal nobility,
which really believed itself the seed of Priam, Hector is the
hero, treacherously murdered by Achilles. In Lucrece there is no

1
Books I, 2, and 7-11 inclusive. The copy in the British Museum bears
the autograph, Sum Ben Jonsonii.'
'

2
Preface to the Reader. Folio.
3 '
To the Understander,' Shield of Achilles. His deepest concern is lest he
should be thought a 'malicious detractor of so admired a poet as Virgil.'
Epistle dedicatory to the Earl Marshal, Ibid.
4
Ker, Epic and Romance,
'
p.378, traces Shakespeare's dreadful sagittary,'
Troilus and Cressida, v. v. 14) back to Benoit's
'
II ot o lui un saietaire Qui

moult fu fels et deputaire.'

Ixvi INTRODUCTION
attack on the Greeks, but Dekker, who calls London Troyno-
vant (Seven Deadly Sins, 1607), and the Romantic School gener

ally, resented the rehabilitation

of Homer's credit Chaucer
had called him a liar involving, as it did, the comparative dis

grace of their hero : all the more that the new glorification of
the Greeks came from arrogant scholars, who presumed on their

knowledge of the Greek language to rail at the ignorance and to

reject the art of their contemporaries and predecessors. That
Shakespeare did so abet Dekker against Chapman is a theory
more in harmony with known facts than Gervinus' guess
that Shakespeare, chagrined by the low moral tone of
Homer's heroes, felt it incumbent on him to travesty their
action. Minto and Mr. Dowden find in Chapman the rival
poet of Shakespeare's Sonnets (I should prefer to say one
of the rival poets) and this falls in with the theory. The
banter of Ben Jonson (Ajax) in the Play is more obvious, and

pushes, even beyond reasonable supposition, the view, which

I submit, that much of
Shakespeare's version was written by
him during the Poetomachia. Many of the plainest attacks
and counterbuffs of that war are in the Epilogues and
Prologues to the Plays involved in it. The Speaker of the

Epilogue to Cynthia (1600) will not 'crave their favour' of

the audience, but will 'only speak what he has heard the
'
maker say :

1
By God 'tis good, and if you like't, you may.'
As Envy descends slowly, in the Introduction to The Poetaster
(1601), the Prologue enters 'hastily in armour,' and replies to
censures provoked by this bragging
challenge :

'
If any muse why I salute the stage
An armed Prologue ; know, 'tis a dangerous
age,
Wherein who writes, had need present his scenes
Forty-fold proof against the conjuring means
Of base detractors and illiterate apes. . . .

\
 INTRODUCTION Ixvii
Whereof the allegory and hid sense
Is, that a well erected confidence
Can fright their pride and laugh their folly hence.
Here now, put case our author should once more,
Swear that his play was good ; he doth implore

You would not argue him of arrogance.'

Marston's Epilogue, added, I imagine, to his Antonio and

Mellida 1 (1601), says :
'
Gentlemen, though I remain an armed

Epilogue, stand not as a peremptory challenger of desert,

I

either for him that composed the Comedy, or for us that acted
'
it ; and, at the lips of the Prologue to Shakespeare's Troilus,
the jest runs on
'
Hither am I come
A Prologue arm'd, but not in confidence
Of Author's pen or actor's voice. .' . .

I venture to Prologue Shakespeare's, for other lines in

call this

it, as those on the Trojan Gates :

f
With massy staples,
'
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts :

are to me audibly his. 2

Shakespeare, I hold, wrote this Prologue,
and wrote while the Prologue to The Poetaster was still a
it

fresh object for ridicule. 3 That Thersites in Shakespeare's

1
It is satirised in The Poetaster (1601) ; so that both may have been on the
boards together.
2
Mr. Fleay, Chronicles of the English Drama, ii. 190, holds the authorship
of the Prologue very doubtful. But this is a question not of evidence but
of ear.
3 'Whoever will take the trouble to compare the
Fleay, Ibid., i. 366:
description of Crites (Jonson) by Mercury in Cynthia's Revels, ii. I, with
that of Ajax by Alexander in Troilus and Cressida, i. 2, will see that

Ajax is Jonson.' But he is inconsistent. Ibid., ii. 189: 'The setting

up of Ajax as a rival to Achilles shadows forth the putting forward of Dekker
by the King's men to write against Jonson his SatiromastixJ so that Ajax =
Dekker, Achilles = Jonson. This inconsistency does not invalidate his con-
Ixviii INTRODUCTION
Troilus stood for Marston can hardly be doubted. When
Agamemnon says ironically (i. in. 72) :

'
We are confident
When rank Thersites opes his mastic J jaw
We shall hear music
'
:

'

the allusion to Marston, who had signed himself '

Th&ciomastix

to the prose Envoy of his Scourge of Villainy, is patent.

2
More :

apart from punning taunt there is no parallel for the foul

this

railing of Thersites' every speech outside the persistent black

of Marston' s Satires and Scourge of Villainy.
guardism
Did Shakespeare join elsewhere with his own hand in the
Poetomachia? The question arises when we reflect that the
Plays contributed to it by Jonson, Marston, and Dekker fairly
bristle with personalities :
recognised by the key which Dekker
supplied in Satiromastix. Of all Shakespeare's characters,
Pistol is the one in which have especially scented a
critics

personal attack ;
and some have thought that Marlowe was the
victim. But Marlowe never wrote as Pistol is made to speak ;

whilst Marston generally, and particularly in the Satire (Scourge

vi.) to which I have already alluded, writes in the very lingo

'

of the Ancient. Urging that his nasty Pigmalion was in

elusion that rival playwrights are satirised, and in many other passages of
Troilus , the 'guying' of the Greek Commander by Patroclus to amuse
Achilles (i. iii. 140-196):
'
And with ridiculous and awkward action
Which, Slanderer, he imitation calls,
He pageants us
'
:

' '
and the guying of Ajax by Thersites (undoubtedly Marston) also to amuse
Achilles 266-292), are not to be explained unless as portions easily
(ill. iii.

recognisable at the time of the general guying in the Poetomachia.

' '

1
Rowe suggested mastiff-, Boswell mastive.
2
Fleay, again inconsistently, refers this line to Dekker, History of the
Stage, 106, and to Marston, Chronicle of the
English Drama, i. 366.
 INTRODUCTION Ixix
truth but a reproach upon Venus and Adonis, he says, and the
accent is familiar :

(
Think'st thou that genius that attends my soul,
And guides my fist to scourge magnificos,
'
Will deign my mind be rank'd in Paphian shows ? :

Indeed, when we remember the f

wit combats' at the

Mermaid, in which these pot companions and public an

tagonists Carlo Buffone cheek by jowl with Asper rallied
each other on their failings, and Jonson's anecdote l that he
had once beaten Marston and taken his pistol from him/
'

it is pleasant to imagine that the name of Shakespeare's scur

2
rilous puff was the nickname of Jonson's shifty ally. For in

considering this wordy war, it is necessary to remember that

the fight was, in the main, a pantomime ' rally,' in which big-

sounding blows were given and returned for the amusement of

the gallery. Captain Tucca, the character borrowed from The
Poetaster to set an edge on Dekker's retort, speaks the Epilogue
to Satiromastix, and begs the audience to applaud the piece in

order that Horace (Jonson) may be obliged to reply once

again. Half in fun and half in earnest did these ink-horn

swash-bucklers gibe each other over their cups, and trounce
each other on the boards. Yet behind all the chaff and bustle
'of that terrible Poetomachia lately commenced between
1
Drummond's Conversations.
2
Jonson comments on some such adventure in his Epigrams, LXVIII. On
Playwright :

'
Playwrit convict of public wrongs to men,
Takes private beatings , and begins again.
Two kinds of valour he doth shew at once ;

Active in's brain, and passive in his bones.'

The Quarto of Shakespeare's Henry V. was published in 1600. Pistol is
beaten in it, as Thersites is beaten in Troilus. Pistol uses the fustian word
' ' *
exhale so does Crispinus in Poetaster (noted by Fleay).
; Pistol's Fetch
'
forth the lazar kite of Cresides kinde is reminiscent of Troilus, produced the
Pistol's What, have we Hiren here is a mock quotation from
' '
year before.
an early play of which Marston makes use more than once.
Ixx INTRODUCTION
l
Horace the Second and a band of lean-witted poetasters/
in that conflict
there was a real conflict of literary aims and ;

took the of the Romantics, upon whose ulti

part
Shakespeare
mate success the odds were, in Dekker's nervous phraseology,
<
all Mount Helicon to Bun-hill.'
2
Without seeking further
to the champions, it is sufficient to know that
distinguish
Shakespeare was an actor
and a playwright throughout the
alarums and excursions of these paste-board hostilities, whose
casualties, after all, amounted but to the 'lamentable merry
'
3
murdering of Innocent Poetry.

IX

In examining the relation between the lyrics which Shake

his life, it was impossible
speare wrote and the environment of
to overlook this controversywhich must have lasted longer
and bulked larger than any other feature in that life. 4 For
Shakespeare, the man, was in the first place an actor and
a

playwright bound up in the corporate life of the Company to

which he belonged. We are apt to reconstruct this theatric
world, in which he had his being, fancifully from his Plays :

rather than from the Plays of his contemporaries, and from

the few among his Plays which are our favourites, just because

they differ most widely from theirs. But his world of every
day effort and experience was not altogether, as at such times

Address ' To the World prefixed to Satiromastix. The author thanks

1 '

'
Venusian Horace for the ' good words detraction, envy, snakes, adders,
stings, etc. which he gives him. They are taken from the Prologue to
The Poetaster.
2
To the World '

prefixed to Satiromastix.
3
Dekker, Epilogue to Satiromastix. In the thick of the fray, 1601,
Jonson, Chapman, Marston, and Shakespeare each contributed a poem on The
Phoenix and the Turtle to ^Robert Chester's Love's Martyr \

4
The Venus and Lucrece were written, of course, years before the
Poetomachia ; but, unless we accept the improbable view that Shakespeare
brought his Venus with him from Stratford, both were written under con
ditions to which the Poetomachia gives a clue.
 INTRODUCTION Ixxi
it
may seem to us, a garden of fair flowers and softly sighing
winds and delicate perfumes, nor altogether a gorgeous gallery
of gallant inventions it was also garish, strident, pungent ; a
:

Donny brook Fair of society journalists, a nightmare of Gillray

caricature. 'A Gentleman/ you read, 'or an honest Citizen,
shall not sit in your pennie-bench Theatres with his squirrel
by his side cracking nuttes ; nor sneake into a Taverne with
his Mermaid; but he shall be satyr'd, and epigram'd upon,
and his humour must run upo' the Stage you '11 ha Every :

humour, and Every Gentleman out on 's humour.'

Gentleman in 's l

Shakespeare tells the same story, when he makes Hamlet say

They are the abstract and brief chronicles of
'
of the players :

the time :
you were better to have a bad
after your death
2
epitaph than their ill
report while you live.' Note that he
speaks of the actors, riot the playwrights though much of :

their satire turned on size of leg, scantness of hair, pretensions

to gentility and seediness of apparel in well-known individuals
veiled under transparent disguises. Far more obvious even than
'
such lampooning was the actors' '
guying of persons and types
which we see reflected in Troilus 3 and enacted in Cynthia's Revels.
The actor playing Crites (v. 3) takes off every trick of speech and
gesture in the person whom he caricatures, for, says Hedon :

'

Slight, Anaides, you are mocked ; and again, in the Induction,

'

one of the three children who play it borrows the Prologue's

' '
1
Dekker's Satiromastix. To the World he instances Cap
In his address
tain Hannam as the living prototype taken for Tucca
by Jonson. In the
earlier Marprelate plays (circa 1589) Nash's antagonist, Gabriel Harvey,
was put on the stage. Aubrey, before 1680, wrote that Ben Jonson and '

he (Shakespeare) did gather humour of men dayly wherever they came.'

2
Hamlet, n.
ii.
501. Fleay, History of the Stage, p. 160: -'1601,
May Council writes to the Middlesex Justices complaining that the
10, the
players at the Curtain represent on the stage 'under obscure manner, but
yet in such sort as all the hearers may take notice both of the matter and
'
the persons that are meant thereby : certain gentlemen that are yet alive.
in. iii. 266-292. Cf. supra.

f
Ixxii INTRODUCTION
cloak, and mimics, one after another, the gallants who frequent
'

the theatre ; so that here is the '

genteel auditor to the life, with
'
his
'
three sorts of tobacco in his pocket,' swearing By this
'

light' as he strikes his flint, that the players act like so many
'
'
wrens/ and, as for the poets
'
By this vapour that an 'twere
'

not for tobacco the very stench of them would poison him.
We can picture from other sources both the conditions
of Shakespeare's auditors and the upholstering of his stage.

Dekker, describing 'how a gallant should behave himself

1

at a playhouse/ writes of the groundling who masked the

view of the 'prentices '

But on the very rushes where the
:

comedy is to dance, yea, under the state of Cambyses himself,

must our feathered estridge, like a piece of ordnance, be

planted valiantly (because impudently) beating down the mews

and hisses of the opposed rascality/ The dignity of ' Cambyses
state' may be guessed from Henslowe's list 2 of grotesque
'
properties Serberosse (Cerberus') three heads ; lerosses (Iris')
head and rainbow ; 1 tomb of Dido ;
1
pair of stairs for Fayeton
f
(Phaethon) and his 2 leather antic's coats' and the city of
'

Rome(!).'
'
The '
galant in gorgeous apparel, his jerkin frotted
' 3
with perfumes, spikenard, opoponax, senanthe/ the 'Court-
'
mistress in 'Satin cut upon six taffetaes/ the 'prentice and harlot
viewed these plays, farced with scurrilous lampoons, and rudely
staged on rushes, through an atmosphere laden with tobacco and
to an accompaniment of nut-cracking and spitting. This was
Shakespeare's shop, the
'
Wooden O '
into which he crammed
t
the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt/ 4

and in which, year after year, he won fame and wealth and
rancorous envy from defeated rivals.
We catch a last note of detraction, in Ratseis Ghost (1 605-6),
1
Gulfs Horn-Book. Cynthia's Revels.
2 4
Quoted by Fleay, History of the Stage, 114. Chorus to Henry V. i.
 INTRODUCTION Ixxiii

wherein the phantom hightobyman advises a strolling Player

to repair to London There thou shalt learn to be frugal
:
'

(for players were never so thrifty as they are now about

London), and to feed upon all men; to let none feed upon
thee to make thy hand a stranger to thy pocket, thy heart
;

slow to perform thy tongue's promise ; and when thou feelest

thy purse well lined, buy thee some place of lordship in the
country, that, growing weary of playing, thy money may then
bring thee to dignity and reputation then thou needest care
:

for no man ; no, not for them that before made thee proud
'
with speaking their words on the stage.' Sir, I thank you,'
'
quoth the Player, for this good council promise you : I I will

make use of have heard, indeed, of some that have

it, for I

gone to London very meanly and have come in time to be ex

ceeding wealthy.' It is significant, almost conclusive, to know
that Shakespeare's name appeared on the roll of the King's

Players for the last time in l604> and that in 1605 he pur
chased an unexpired term (thirty years) in the lease of tithes,
both great and small, in Stratford thus securing an addition
:

to his income equal to at least 350 l a year of our money.

Behind this life of business, on and for the stage, Shake

speare, as the friend of young noblemen, saw something of the
Court with its gaiety and learning and display, ever undermined
by intrigue, and sometimes eclipsed by tragedy. He was
impeded in his art by controversies between puritans, church
men, and precisians, and exercised in his affection for those
who to their own ruin championed the old nobility against the

growing power of the Crown. As a loyal citizen of London,

he must have grieved at her sins and diseases, over which even
Dekker, the railing ruffler of Satiromastix, wailed at last in the

1
Baynes.
Ixxiv INTRODUCTION
accents of a Hebrew prophet :
'
O London, thou art great in

glory,and envied for thy greatness ; thy Towers, thy Temples,

and thy Pinnacles stand upon thy head like borders of fine gold,
of silver hang at the hemmes of thy
thy waters like frindges
garments. Thou thy neighbours, but the
art the goodliest of

but the most wanton. Thou hast all

prowdest, the welthiest,
things in thee to make thee fairest,
and all things in thee to
make thee foulest ;
for thou art attir'd like a Bride, drawing
all that looke upon thee, to be in love with thee, but there is

much harlot in thine eyes' ... so f

sickness was sent to
breathe her unwholesome ayres into thy nosthrills, so that thou,
that wert before the only Gallant and Minion of the world,
hadst in a short time more diseases (than a common harlot hath)

hanging upon thee ; thou suddenly becamst the by-talke of

neighbors, the scorne and contempt of Nations.'
l
Thus Dekker
in 1606; and, in the next year, Marston, who equalled him in
blatant spirits and far excelled him in ruffianism, left writing
for the Stage, and entered the Church !

These are aspects of Shakespeare's environment which we

cannot neglect in deciding how much or how little of his lyrical
arthe owed to anything but his own genius and devotion to
Beauty. Least of all
may we first assume that his art reflects
his environment, and then, inverting this
imaginary relation,
declare it for the product of a golden age which never existed.
Yet, thanks to modern idolatry of naked generalisations, it
is the fashion to throw Shakespeare in with other fruits of
the Renaissance, acknowledging the
singularity of his genius,
but still labelling it for an organic part of a wide
development.
And in this development we have been taught to see nothing but
a renewal of life and
strength, of truth and sanity, following on
the senile mystifications of an effete Middle
Age. The theory
makes for a sharp definition of contrast ; but it is hard to find its
1
The Seven Deadly Sins of London (1606).
 INTRODUCTION Ixxv
justification either in the facts of history or in the opinions of

Shakespeare's contemporaries, who believed that, on the con

trary, they lived in an epoch of decadence. In any age of rapid

development there much, no doubt, that may fitly be illus

is

trated by metaphors drawn from sunrise and spring but there ;

are also aspects akin to sunset and autumn. The truth seems
to be that at such times the processes of both birth and death

are abnormally quickened. To every eye life becomes more

coloured and eventful daily ; but and changes with
it shines

curiously mingled effects speaking: to these of youth and the

hill-tops, and to those of declension and decay.

In 1611 Shakespeare withdrew to Stratford-on-Avon. Of his
1

life in London we know little at first hand. But we know enough

of what he did enough of what he was said to have done
; ;

enough of the dispositions and the lives of his contemporaries ;

to imagine very clearly the world in which he worked for some

twenty-three years. He lived the life of a successful artist, rocked

on the waves and sunk inthe troughs of exhilaration and fatigue.
He was befriended for personal and political reasons by brilliant
young noblemen, and certainly grieved over their misfortunes.
He was intimate with Southampton and William Herbert, and
must surely have known Herbert's mistress, Mary Fitton. He
suffered, first, rather more than less from the jealousy and de
traction of the scholar- wits, the older University pens, and then,
rather less than more, from the histrionic rivalry of his brother

playwrights. He was himself a mark for scandal, 2 and he

Baynes argues that he left London in 1608. He ceased writing for the
1

stage in 1611, and disposed of his interest in the Globe and Blackfriars Theatres

probably in that year.

2
Sir W. Davenant boasted that he was Shakespeare's son When he was
:

'

pleasant over a glass of wine with his most intimate friends (Aubrey's Lives
of Eminent Persons. Completed before 1680). Cf. Halliwell-Phillipps' Out
lines, ii. 43. And there is that story of the trick the poet played on Burbage :

which might hail from the Decameron. See John Manningham's Diary > I3th
March 1601-2.
Ixxvi INTRODUCTION
watched the thunder clouds of Politics and Puritanism gathering
1
over the literature and the drama which he loved. Yet far
from the <5ust and din of these turmoils he bore the
away
life at Stratford.
sorrows, and prosecuted the success of his other
His only son, Hamnet, died in 1596. His daughter, Susannah,
married, and his mother, Mary Arden, died in 1608, and in the
same year he bestowed his name on the child of an old friend,
Henry Walker. Through all these years, by lending money
and purchasing land, he built up a fortune magnified by legend
long after his death. And in the April of l6l6 he died himself,
as some have it, on his birthday. He ' was bury'd on the north
side of the chancel, in the great Church at Stratford, where a
monument is
plac'd on the wall. On his grave-stone under
neath is :

(e
Good friend, for Jesus' sake, forbear
To dig the dust inclosed here.
Blest be the man that spares these stones,
" '
And curst be he that moves my bones. 2

This slight and most imperfect sketch, founded mainly on

impressions brought away from the study of many noble

portraits, is still sufficient to prove how
little the Poems owe,

even remotely, to the vicissitudes of an artist's career. Of the

wild woodland life in Arden Forest, of boyish memories and of
books read at school, there is truly something to be traced in

echoes from Ovid and in frequent illustrations drawn from sport

and nature. But of the later life in London there is little

1
Warton, Hist, of Eng. Poetry (1824), iv. 320. 'In 1599 Marston's
. . .

Pygmalion, Marlowe's Ovid, the Satires of Hall and Marston, the epigrams
of Davies and the Caltha poetarum, etc., were burnt by order of the
prelates,
Whitgift and Bancroft. The books of Nash and Harvey were ordered to
be confiscated, and it was laid down that no plays should be printed without
" "
permission from the Archbishop of Canterbury, nor any English Historyes
(novels?), without the sanction of the Privy Council.'
2
Rowe, 1709.
 INTRODUCTION Ixxvii

enough, even in the Sonnets that tell of rival poets and a dark

lady, and nothing that points so clearly to any single experience

as to admit of definite application. For in Shakespeare's Poems,

as in every great work of art, single experiences have been

generalised or, rather, merged in the passion' which they rouse
to a height and a pitch of sensitiveness immeasurable in contrast
with its puny origins. The volume and the intensity of ah artist's
passion have led many to believe that great artists speak for all
mankind of joy and sorrow. But to great artists the bliss and
martyrdom of man are of less import, so it seems, than to others.
The griefs and tragedies that bulk so largely in the lives of the
inapt and the inarticulate are so far as we may divine the
secrets of an alien race but a small part of the great artist's
experience hardly :
more, perhaps, than stimulants to his
general sense of the whole world's infinite appeal to sensation
and consciousness.

XI

Shakespeare's Poems are detached by the perfection of his

art from both the personal experience which supplied their
matter and the artistic environment which suggested their
rough-hewn form. Were they newly discovered, you could tell,
of course, that they were written in England, and about the
end of the Sixteenth Century: just as you can tell a Flemish
from an Italian, a Fourteenth from a Sixteenth Century
picture ; and every unprejudiced critic has said of the Sonnets
that they 'express Shakespeare's own feelings in his own
l
person.' That is true. But it is equally true, and it is
vastly

1
Mr. Dowden With Wordsworth, Sir Henry Taylor, and Mr.
:
*

J^rni-
burne ; with Francis-Victor Hugo, with Kreyssig, Ulrici, G^rvinu^ and
Hermann Isaac ; with Boaden, Armitage Brown, and Hallam ; with Furnivall,
Spalding, Rossetti, and Palgrave, I believe that Shakespeare's Sonnets express
his own feelings in his own person.' So do Mr. A. E. Harrison and Mr.
Tyler.
Ixxviii INTRODUCTION
more important, that the Sonnets are not an Autobiography.
In this Sonnet or that you feel the throb of great passions
shaking behind the perfect verse; here and there you listen to
a sigh as of a world awaking to its weariness. Yet the move
ment and sound are elemental they steal
: on your senses like
a whisper trembling through summer-leaves, and in their vast-
ness are removed by far from the suffocation of any one man's

tragedy. The writer of the Sonnets has felt more, and thought
more, than the writer of the Venus and the Lucrece ; but he
remains a poet not a Rousseau, not a Metaphysician and his
chief concern is still to worship Beauty in the imagery and
music of his verse. It is, indeed, strange to find how much of

thought, imagery, and rhythm is common to Venus and Adonis

and the Sonnets, for the two works could hardly belong by their
themes to classes of poetry more widely distinct (the first is a

Mythology; the second

late Renaissance imitation of late Classical

a sequence of intimate occasional verses) nor could they differ

more obviously from other poems in the same classes. Many
such imitations and sequences of sonnets were written by Shake

speare's contemporaries, but among them all there is not one

poem that in the least resembles Venus and Adonis, and there are
but few sonnets that remind you, even faintly, of Shakespeare's.
And just such distinctions isolate The Rape of Lucrece. By its
theme, as a romantic story in rhyme, it has nothing in common
with its two companions from Shakespeare's hand but it is
;

lonelier than they, having indeed no fellow in Elizabethan

poetry
and not many in English literature. Leaving ballads on one
side, you may count the romantic stories in English rhyme, that
can by courtesy be called literature, upon the
fingers of one
hand. There are but two arches in the bridge
by which Keats
and Chaucer communicate across the centuries, and Shake
speare's Lucrece stands for the solitary pier. Yet, distinct as
they are from each other in character, these three things by
 INTRODUCTION Ixxix
Shakespeare are closely united in form by a degree of lyrical
excellence in their imagery and rhythm which severs them
from kindred competitors :
they are the first examples of the
highest qualities in Elizabethan lyrical verse. No poet of that
day ever doubted that 'poesie dealeth with Katholon, that is
'
to say with the universall consideration, * or that of every

language in Europe their own could best 'yeeld the sweet

2
slyding fit for a verse.' But in these three you find the

highest expression of this theory and this practice alike a :

sense of the mystery of Beauty profound as Plato's, with

such a golden cadence as no other singer has been able to
sustain.

XII

Venus and Adonis was published in 1593, the year of

Marlowe's death, and was at once immensely popular, editions

following one hard upon another, in 1594, 1596, 1599, 1600,

and (two editions) 1602. Shakespeare dedicated his poem
to Lord Southampton, and called it 'the first heir of his in

vention.' There is nothing remarkable in his choice of a metre

'
'
the staffe of sixe verses (ab ab cc) for four years earlier
;

Puttenham (?) had described it (The Arte of English Poesie, 1589)

f
as not only most usual, but also very pleasant to th' eare.'
We need not, then, suppose that Shakespeare borrowed it
exclusively from Lodge. He may have been guided in his
choice. For Lodge had interwoven a short allusion to Adonis'
death into his Scylla's Metamorphosis, also published in 1589
and written in this staff of six. But Lodge's melody is not
Shakespeare's :

'
Her dainty hand addressed to claw her dear,
Her roseal lip allied to his pale cheek,

1 2
Sidney, Apologic for Poetrie. Ibid.
Ixxx INTRODUCTION
Her sighs, and then her looks, and heavy cheer,
Her bitter threats, and then her passions meek :

How on his senseless corpse she lay a-crying,

'
As if the boy were then but now a-dying :

and, indeed, Shakespeare's poem is, in all essentials, utterly

unlike Lodge's Scylla, Marlowe's unfinished Hero and Leander,

Drayton's Endymion and Phoebe, and Chapman's Ovid's Banquet of

Sense. Still less does it resemble the earlier adaptations from

Ovid's Metamorphosis, as Thomas Peend's f

Salmacis and Herma
phrodites' (1565):
f
Dame Venus once by Mercurye
Comprest, a chylde did beare,
For beauty farre excellyng all
That erst before hym weare.'

It borrows from, or lends to, Henry Constable's Sheepheard's Song

scarce a phrase, 1 and the same may be said still more .em

Spenser's five stanzas on The Love

2 c
phatically of its relation to
of Venus and her Paramoure,' and to Golding's Ovid. Briefly,
it has nothing to do either with studious imitations of the

Classics or with the 'rhyme doggerel' that preceded them,

for it throws back to the mediaeval poets' use of Ovid to" :

1
The SheephenrcC s Song of Venus and Adonis. First published in England's
Helicon, 1600 : it may have been written before Shakespeare's Adonis. The
bare theme, which is not to be found in Ovid, of Venus's vain and soliciting
of Adonis's reluctance, is alluded to in Marlowe's Hero and Leander :

*
Where Venus naked glory strove
in her
To please the careless and disdainful eyes
Of proud Adonis, that before her lies '
:

and in Robert Greene's pamphlet, Never Too Late (1590) :

'
Sweet Adon, dar'st not glance thine eye
(N'oseres vous, mon bel amy ?)

thy Venus that must die ?

Upon
Je vous en prie, pitty me :
N'oseres vous, mon bel, mon bel,
Woseres vous, mon bel amy ?
2
Faerie Queene, iii. i, 34-38.
 INTRODUCTION Ixxxi
Chretien de Troyes, that is, the authors of the Roman de la

Rose, and Chaucer, who first steeped themselves in the Meta

morphosis, and then made beautiful poems of their own by the

light of their genius in the manner of their day. Sometimes
you may trace the extraction of an image in Shakespeare's verse
back and up the mediaeval tradition. Thus (Sonnet cxix.) :

(
What potions have I drunke of syren teares
Distill'd from lymbecks.'

Thus Chaucer (Troilus, iv.) :

"This Troilus in teares gan distill

'
As licour out of allambick full fast.

And thus the Roman de la Rose (1. 6657) :

'
For quoi done en tristor demores ?
Je vois maintes fois que tu plores.
Cum alambic sus alutel.'

But with greater frequency comes the evidence of Shakespeare's

loving familiarity with Ovid whose effects he fuses taking the :

reluctance of Adonis from Hermaphroditus (Metamorphosis, iv.) ;

the description of the boar from Meleager's encounter in viii. ;

and other features from the short version of Venus and Adonis
which Ovid weaves on to the terrible and beautiful story of
Shakespeare's work of this period the same
1
Myrrha (x.). In all

fusion of Ovid's stories and images is obvious. Tarquin and

Myrrha are both delayed, but, not daunted, by lugubrious fore
bodings in the dark ; and Titus Andronicus, played for the first
time in the year which saw the publication of Venus and Adonis,
is full of debts and allusions to Ovid. Ovid, with his power of
and of eloquent discourse, his shining images, his
telling a story
cadences coloured with assonance and weighted with alliteration ;

Cf. Le Roman de la Rose.

1
Chap. cvii. follows the order of Ovid's Tenth
Book, passing from Pygmalion to 'Mirra' and adding 11. 21992, 'Libiaus
Adonis en fu nes.'
Ixxxii INTRODUCTION
Chaucer, with his sweet liquidity of diction, his dialogues and
soliloquies these are the 'only true begetters' of the lyric

Shakespeare. In these matters we must allow poets to have their

own way :
merely noting that Ovid, in whom critics see chiefly
a brilliant man of the world, has been a mine of delight for all

poetswho rejoice in the magic of sound, from the dawn of the

1
Middle Ages down to our own incomparable Milton. His
effects of alliteration :

'
Corpora Cecropidum pennis pendere putares ;

Pendebant pennis. . . .

'
Vertitur in volucrem, cui stant, in vertice cristae :

his gleaming metaphors, as of Hermaphroditus after his

plunge :

e
In liquidis translucet aquis ; ut eburnea si quis
'

Signa tegat claro, vel Candida lilia, vitro :

are the very counterpart of Shakespeare's manner in the Poems

and the Play which he founded in part on his early love of the
Metamorphosis.
But in Titus Andronicus and in Venus and Adonis there are effects
of the open air which hail, not from Ovid but, from Arden :

'
The birds chant melody on every bush ;
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun ;

The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,

And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground '
:

Thus the Play (ii. 3), and thus the Poem :

'
Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth . . .

Like many clouds consulting for foul weather.'

Indeed in the Poem, round and over the

sharp portrayal of
every word and gesture of the two who speak and move, you
have brakes and trees, horses and
hounds, and the silent
1
Mackail on ' Milton's Debt to Ovid.'
(Latin Literature, 142.) Cf. Ker,
Epic and Romance^ 395.
 INTRODUCTION Ixxxiii
transformations of day and night from the first dawn till
eve, and through darkness to the second dawn so immediately
impressed, that, pausing at any of the cxcix. stanzas, you
could almost name the hour. The same express observation
of the day's changes may be observed in Romeo and Juliet.
It is a note which has often been echoed by men who never
look out of their windows, and immured, have
critics, as narrowly

denounced it for an affectation. Yet a month under canvas, or,

better without a tent, will convince any one that to speak
still,

of the stars and the moon is as natural as to look at your watch

or an almanack. In the Venus even the weather changes. The
Poem opens soon after sunrise with the ceasing of a shower :

'
Even as the sun with purple colour'd face,
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn.'

But by the 89th Stanza, after a burning noon, the clouds close
'
in over the sunset. Look,' says Adonis :

f
The world's comforter with weary gate
His day's hot task hath ended in the west,
The owl (night's herald) shrieks, 'tis very late,
The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest,
And coal-black clouds, that shadow heaven's light,
Do summon us to part and bid good-night.'

The next dawn is cloudless after the night's rain :

f
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 burnisht gold.'

Beneath these atmospheric effects everything is clearly seen and

sharply delineated :

'
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly sbe fastens.'
Ixxxiv INTRODUCTION
And when the horse breaks loose :

'Some time he trots, as if he told the steps.'

hare (stanzas 114-118)

Then the description of a hunted
:

'
Sometimes he runs along a flock of sheep
To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell. . . .

By this poor Wat far off upon a hill

Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear. . . .

Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch

Turn and return, indenting with the way ;
Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch,
'

Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay :

howbeit a treasure of observation, is no richer than that other

of the hounds which have lost their huntsman :

'
Another flap-mouth' d mourner, black and grim,
Against the welkin, vollies out his voice,
Another and another, answer him,
Clapping their proud tails to the ground below,
Shaking their scratch-ears, bleeding as they go.

The illustrations from nature :

'
As the dive-dapper peering through a wave
Who being lookt on, ducks as quickly in ...
As the snail whose tender horns being hit
'
Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain :

are so vivid as to snatch your attention from the story ;

and
'
when you read that ' lust feeding on ' fresh beauty/
'
Starves and soon bereaves
As caterpillars do the tender leaves,'

the realism of the illustration does violence to its aptness. It

said that such and ornament
is
multiplicity of detail is out of
place in a classic myth. But Shakespeare's Poem is not a
classic Mr. Swinburne contrasts it unfavourably with
myth.
Chapman's Hero and Leander, in which he finds ' a small shrine
 INTROD UCTION Ixxxv
of Parian sculpture amid the rank splendour of a tropical jungle.'

Certainly that is the last image which any one could apply
to Venus and Adonis. Its wealth of reminds you
realistic detail

rather of the West Porch at Amiens. But alongside of this

realism, and again as in Mediaeval Art, there are wilful and half-
humorous perversions of nature. When Shakespeare in praise
of Adonis' beauty says that

'
To see his face, the lion walked along
Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him,'

or that

When he beheld his shadow in the brook,

The fishes spread on it their golden gills,'

you you are still in the age which painted St. Jerome's
feel that

lion and Francis preaching to the birds.

St. But you feel that
you are half way into another. The poem is not Greek, but

neither is it Mediaeval it belongs to the debatable dawntime

:

which we call the Renaissance. There is much in it of highly

charged colour and of curious insistence on strange beauties of

detail ; yet, dyed and daedal as it is out of all kinship with

classical repose, neither its intricacy nor its tinting ever

suggests the Aladdin's Cave evoked by Mr. Swinburne's
Oriental epithets rather do they suggest a landscape at
:

sunrise. There, too, the lesser features of trees and bushes and
knolls are steeped in the foreground with crimson light, or are
set on with gold at the horizon ; there, too, they leap into
fire

momentary significance with prolonged and fantastic shadows ;

yet overhead, the atmosphere is, not oppressive but, eager and
pure and a part of an immense serenity. And so it is in the
Poem, for which, if you abandon Mr. Swinburne's illustration,
and seek another from painting, you may find a more fitting

counterpart in the Florentine treatment of classic myths in :

Botticelli's Venus, with veritable gold on the goddess's hair and

 Ixxxvi INTRODUCTION
on the boles of the pine trees, or in Piero di Cosima's Cephalus and

Proem, with its living animals at gaze before a tragedy that tells
much of Beauty and nothing of Pain. Shakespeare's Poem is
I of love, not death ; but he handles his theme with just the
same regard for Beauty, with just the same disregard for all
that disfigures Beauty. He portrays an amorous encounter
through its every gesture; yet, unless in some dozen lines
where he glances aside, like any Mediaeval, at a gaiety not yet
divorced from love, his appeal to Beauty persists from first to

last; and nowhere is there an appeal to lust. The laughter

and sorrow of the Poem belong wholly to the faery world of
vision and romance, where there is no sickness, whether of

sentiment or of sense. And both are rendered by images,

clean-cut as in antique gems, brilliantly enamelled as in
mediaeval chalices, numerous and interwoven as in Moorish

arabesques; so that their incision, colour, and rapidity of

development, apart even from the intricate melodies of the

verbal medium in which they live, tax the faculty of artistic

appreciation to a point at which it

begins to participate in the
asceticism of artistic creation. '
As little can a mind thus
roused and awakened be brooded on by mean and indistinct
emotion, as the low, lazy mist can creep upon the surface of
a lake while a strong gale is driving it onward in waves and
'
billows thus does Coleridge resist the application to shift
:

the venue of criticism on this Poem from the court of

Beauty to
the court of Morals, and upon that subject little more need
be said. How wilful it is to discuss the moral
bearing of an
invitation couched by an imaginary Goddess in such ima
ginative terms as these :

'
Bid me discourse, I will inchant thine eare,
Or like a Fairie, trip upon the greene,
Or like a Nymph, with long disheveled
heare,
Dauuce on tlie sands, and yet no footing scene !
'
 INTRODUCTION Ixxxvii
As well essay to launch an ironclad on '
the foam of perilous
seas in fairylands forlorn.'
When Venus says,
'
Bid me discourse, I will inchant thine

ear/ she instances yet another peculiar excellence of Shake

speare's lyrical art, which shows
Poem, is redoubled in
in this

Lucrece, and in the Sonnets yields the most perfect examples

of human speech :

1
Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine,
Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red. . . .

Art thou ashamed to kiss ? Then wink again,

And I will wink, so shall the day seem night. . . .'

These are the fair words of her soliciting, and Adonis's reply
is of the same silvery quality :

1
If lovehave lent you twenty thousand tongues,
And every tongue more meaning than your own,
Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's songs,
Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown. . . .'

And, as he goes on :

f
Lest the deceiving harmony should run
'
Into the quiet closure of my breast :

you catch a note prelusive to the pleading altercation of the

Sonnets. It is the discourse in Venus and Adonis and Lucrece

which renders them discursive. And indeed they are long

poems, on whose first reading Poe's advice, never to begin at
the same place, may wisely be followed. You do well, for
instance, to begin at Stanza cxxxvi. in order to enjoy the narra
tive of Venus' vain pursuit with your senses unwearied by the
:

length and sweetness of her argument. The passage hence to

the end is in the true romantic tradition Stanzas CXL. and CXLI. :

are as clearly the forerunners of Keats, as CXLIV. is the child or

Chaucer. The truth of such art consists in magnifying selected
details until their gigantic shapes, edged with a shadowy
iridescence, fill the whole field of observation. Certain gestures

g
Ixxxviii INTRODUCTION
of the body, certain moods of the mind, are made to tell with

the weight of trifles during awe-stricken pauses of delay. Venus,

when she is baffled by ' the merciless and pitchy night/ halts
1
amazed as one that unaware
Hath dropt a precious jewel in the flood,
Or stonisht as night wanderers often are,
Their light blown out in some mistrustfull wood.'

'

She one that spies an adder ; ' the timorous yelp

starts like
'

'

ing of the hounds appals her senses ; and she stands in a

'

trembling extasy.'
Besides romantic narrative and sweetly modulated discourse,
there are two rhetorical tirades by Venus when she ' exclaimes
'
a
on death :

'
Grim grinning ghost, earth' s-worme, what dost thou meane
To stifle beautie and to steale his breath,' etc. :

and when she heaps her anathemas on love :

(
It shall be fickle, false and full of fraud,

Bud, and be blasted in a breathing while ;

The bottome poyson, and the top ore-strawed
With sweets, that shall the truest sight beguile,
The strongest bodie shall it make most weake,
'
Strike the voice dumbe, and teach the foole to speake :

and in both, as also in Adonis's contrast of love and lust :

'
Love comforteth, like sunshine after raine,
But lust's effect is
tempest after sunne,
Love's gentle spring doth always fresh
remaine,
Lust's winter comes ere summer halfe be donne
;

Love surfets not, lust like a

glutton dies :
Love is all
'

truth, lust full of forged lies :-

you have rhetoric, packed with antithesis, and rapped out on

alliterated syllables for which the
only equivalent in English

1
I retain the early spelling, as
something of the rhetorical force depends
on the sounds it
suggests.
 INTRODUCTION Ixxxix
isfound, but more fully, in the great speech delivered by
Lucrece. 1 The seed of these tirades, as of the dialogues and
the gentle soliloquies, seems derived from Chaucer's Troilus and

Criseyde; and in his Knight's Tale (lines 1747-1758) there is also

a foreshadowing of their effective alliteration, used and this
is the point not as an ornament of verse, but as an instru
ment of accent. For example :

f
The helmes they to-hewen and to-shrede ;
Out brest the blood, with sterne stremes rede.
With mighty maces the bones they to-breste ;
He thurgh the thikkeste of the throng gon threste/ etc.

This use of alliteration by Shakespeare, employed earlier by

Lord Vaux :

'
2
Since death shall dure till all the world be waste :

and later by Spenser 3 :

f
Then let thy flinty heart that feeles no paine,
Empierced be with pitiful remorse,
And let thy bowels bleede in every vaine,
At sight of His most sacred heavenly corse,
So torne and mangled with malicious forse ;
And let thy soule, whose sins His sorrows wrought,
'
Melt into teares, and grone in grieved thought :

'
is not to be confused with the absurd following of the letter

amongst our English so much of late affected, but now hist

'
4 for it does
out of Paules Church yard not consist in collect
;

ing the greatest number of words with the same initial, but
in letting the accent fall, as it does naturally in all impassioned

speech, upon syllables of cognate sound. Since in English

verse the accent is, and by Shakespeare's contemporaries was
understood to be, 'the chief lord and grave Governour of

1
In denunciation of Night, Opportunity, and Time (lines 764-1036).
2
Paradise of Dainty Devices, 1576.
3
An Hymne of Heavenly Love (September 1596).
*
Campion, Observations in the Art of English Poesy, 1602.
xc INTRODUCTION
Numbers/ *
emphasis is no less legitimate, and
this aid to its

is hardly less important, than is that of rhyme to metre in

French verse we inherit it from the Saxon, as we inherit

:

rhyme from the Norman; both are essential elements in the

poetry built up by Chaucer out of the ruins of two languages.
But Shakespeare is the supreme master of its employment :

in these impassioned tirades with a naked strength

he wields it

that was never approached, in the Sonnets with a veiled and

varied subtilty that defies analysis. There are hints here and
there in the Venus of this gathering subtilty :

1
These blew-vein'd violets whereon we leane
Never can blab, nor know not what we meane . . .

Even as a dying coale revives with winde . . .

More white and red than doves and roses are.'

But apart from the use of cognate sounds, which makes for

emphasis without marring melody, in many a line there also

lives that more recondite sweetness, which plants so much of
Shakespeare's verse in the memory for no assignable cause :

{
Scorning his churlish drum and ensinge red. . . .

Dumbly she passions, frantikely she doteth. . . .

Showed like two silver doves that sit a billing. . . .

Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chaine. . . .

Were beautie under twentie locks kept fast,

Yet love breaks through and picks them all at last. . . .

O learne to love, the lesson is but plaine

And once made perfect never lost again.'

Herein a cadence of obvious simplicity gives birth to an in

explicable charm.
I have spoken of Shakespeare's images,
blowing fresh from
1
S. Daniel's Defence of '
Ryme, 1603 :
Though it doth not strictly observe
long and short sillables, yet it most religiously respects the accent.' Ibid.
Cf. Sidney's Apologie : Wee observe the accent very precisely.'
 INTRODUCTION xci
the memory of his boyhood,, so vivid that at times they are
violent, and at others wrought and laboured until they become
conceits. You have f
No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears/
with its frank reminiscence of a sportsman's scruple or, as an ;

'
obvious illustration, '
Look how a bird lies tangled in a net ;

or, in a flash of intimate recollection :

e
Like shrill-tongu'd tapsters answering everie call,
'

Soothing the humours of fantastique wits :

'
'
the last, an early sketch of the Francis scene in Henry IV. ,
which, in quaint juxtaposition with 'cedar tops and hills' of
'
burnisht gold,' seems instinct with memories of John Shake

speare and his friends, who dared not go to church. But, again,
you have conceits :

'
But hers (eyes), which through the crystal tears gave light,
'
Shone like the Moone in water seen by night ;
'
A lilie prison'd in a gaile of
'
and Wishing her cheeks
snow ;
'

were gardens ful of flowers So they were dew'd with such

distilling showers.' But, diving deeper than diction, alliteration,

and rhythm deeper than the decoration of blazoned colours
:

and the labyrinthine interweaving of images, now budding as

it were from nature, and now beaten as by an artificer out of
some precious metal you discover beneath this general inter
:

pretation of Phenomenal Beauty, a gospel of Ideal Beauty, a

confession of faith in Beauty as a principle of life. And note
for the coincidence is vital that these, the esoteric themes of
Venus and Adonis, are the essential themes of the Sonnets. In
Stanza xxn. :

(
Fair flowers that are not gathered in their prime
'
Rot and consume themselves in little time :

and in Stanzas xxvu., XXVIIL, xxix., you have the whole argu
ment of Sonnets i.-xix. In Stanza CLXXX. :

'
Alas poore world, what treasure hast thou lost,
What face remains alive that 's worth the viewing ?
xcii INTRODUCTION
Whose tongue is musick now ? What canst thou boast,
Of things long since, or any thing insuing ?
The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh, and trim,
'

But true sweet beautie liv'd, and di'de with him :

you have that metaphysical gauging of the mystical import

ance of some one incarnation of Beauty viewed from imaginary

standpoints in time, which was afterwards to be elaborated

in

Sonnets xiv., xix., LIX., LXVII., LXVIII., civ., cvi. And in Stanza

CLXX. :

'
For he being dead, with him is beautie slaine,
'
And beautie dead, blacke Chaos comes again :

you have the succinct credo in that incarnation of an Ideal

'
'
Beauty, of which all other lovely semblances are but shadows
and '
counterfeits,' which was to find a fuller declaration in

Sonnets xxxi. and LIU., and xcvm.

But Poems the beauty and curiosity of the
in Shakespeare's

ceremonial ever obscure the worship of the god; and, per

haps, in the last stanza but one, addressed to the flower born
in place of the dead Adonis and let drop into the bosom of
the Goddess of Love, you have the most typical expression
of those merits and defects which are alike loved and condoned

by the slaves of their invincible sweetness :

'
Here was thy father's bed, here in my brest,
Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right,
So in hollow cradle take thy rest,
this

My throbbing hart shall rock thee day and night ;

There shall not be one minute in an houre

Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's floure.'

Here are conceits and a strained illustration from the

profes
sion of law but here, with these, are lovely
;
imagery and
perfect diction and, flowing through every line, a rhythm that
risesand falls softly, until, after a hurry of
ripples, it expends
itself in the three last retarding words.
 INTRODUCTION xciii

XIII

The Rape of Lucrece was published in 1 594, and was dedi

cated in terms of devoted affection to Lord Southampton.
It was never so popular as the Venus, yet editions followed in

1598, 1600, 1607, 1616, 1624, and 1632

1
; and its
subsequent
neglect remains one of the enigmas of literature. It is written

in the seven-lined stanza borrowed by Chaucer from Guillaume

de Machault, a French poet, whose talent, according to M.
Sandras2
was ' essentiellement lyrique.' The measure, indeed,
iscapable of the most heart-searching lyrical effects. Chaucer
chose it, first for his Compleint unto Pite and, more notably,
for his Troilus and Criseyde; in 1589 Puttenham (?)
had noted
that '
his meetre Heroicall is
very grave and stately,' and, was
'most usuall with our auncient makers'; Daniel had used it

for his Rosamund, published four years before Lucrece, Spenser

for his Hymnes, published the year after. The subject lay no
further than the form from Shakespeare's hand. He took it
from Ovid's Fasti. 3 Mr. Furnivall has argued that he may also

have read it in Livy's brief version of the tragedy, or in The Rape

of Lucrece, from William Painter's The Palace of Pleasure (1566),
'
where, he notes, Painter is but Livy, with some changes and
omissions.' Warton, History of English Poetry (1824, iv. 241-2),
cites 'A complaynt of Lucrece/ 1568; 'A
ballet the grevious
ballet of the death of Lucreessia,' 1569; and yet another of
1576. He adds: 'Lucretia was the grand example of con

jugal fidelity throughout the Gothic Ages.' That is the point.

Shakespeare took the story from Ovid, with the knowledge
that Chaucer had drawn on the same source for the Fifth
Story in his Legend of Good Women, just as Chaucer had

1
Two others of 1596 and 1602 have been cited but never recovered.
2
Ettide sur G. Chawer, 1859.
3
Book ii. line 721 et seq.
xciv INTRODUCTION
taken from Ovid, with the knowledge that
it
its appositeness
had been consecrated before 1282 in chapter L. of Le Roman

de la Rose :

'
Comment Lucrece par grant ire
Son cuer point, derrompt et dessire
Et chiet morte sur terre adens,
Devant son mari et parens.'

And Shakespeare must certainly have been familiar with

the allusion to it in North's Plutarch, as with the passage in
a painting of Lucrecia is imagined to
Sidney's Apologie, where
illustrate the art of those who are indeed right Poets' as
'

of religious or of moral and

distinguished from the authors
metaphysical verse. This passage, save where it suffers from
the constraint of an apologetic attitude, stands still for a sound
declaration of the ethics of art; and in Shakespeare's day,
when such questions were canvassed as freely as in our own,
it may well have determined his choice.
But speculation on the literary origins of a poem is idle

when the poem is in itself far worthier attention than all the
materials out of which it has been contrived the more so when
of these the literary origins are the most remote and the least

important. Shakespeare, indeed, owes more to the manner of

Chaucer's Troilus than to the matter of his Lucretia, or of its

original in Ovid. For in treating that story the two poets

omit and retain different portions Chaucer, on the whole,
:

copying more closely paints on a canvas of about the same

size, whereas Shakespeare expands a passage of 132 lines
into a poem of 1855. Chaucer omits Ovid's note rendered by
Shakespeare's
c
Haply that name of chaste unhap'ly set
This bateless edge on his keen appetite.'

He also omits Lucretia's unsuspecting welcome of Tarquin,

making him
'
stalke' straight into the house 'ful theefly.'
 INTRODUCTION xcv
Shakespeare retains the welcome, and reserves the phrase,
*
Into the chamber wickedly he stalks,' for a later incident.
On the other hand, Chaucer renders the passage, 'Tune
quoque jam moriens ne non procumbat honeste, respicit/
somewhat quaintly :

'
And as she fel adown, she cast her look
And of her clothes yit she hede took,
For in her falling yit she hadde care
'
Lest that her feet or swiche thing lay bare :

and Shakespeare omits it. Both keep the image of the lamb
and the wolf, together with Lucretia's flavi capilli, which are
nowhere mentioned by Livy.
In the Lucrece, as in the Venus, you have a true develop
ment of Chaucer's romantic narrative ; of the dialogues,

soliloquies, and rhetorical bravuras which render Books iv.

and v.of his Troilus perhaps the greatest romance in verse.

And yet the points of contrast between the Lucrece and the
Venus are of deeper interest than the points of comparison,
for they show an ever -widening divergence from the
characteristics of Mediaeval romance. If the Venus be a
pageant of
gesture, the Lucrece is a drama of emotion.
You have the same wealth of imagery, but the images are
no longer sunlit and sharply denned. They seem, rather,
created by the reflex action of a sleepless brain as it were
fantasticsymbols shaped from the lying report of tired
eyes staring into darkness ; and they are no longer used to
decorate the outward play of natural desire and reluctance,
but to project the shadows of abnormal passion and acute
mental distress. The Poem is full of nameless terror, of
' '

ghastly shadows and '

quick-shifting antics.' The First Act
f
passes in the 'dead of night/ with no noise' to break the
world's silence 'but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries/ nor

any to mar the house's but the grating of doors and, at last,
 xcvi INTRODUCTION
the hoarse whispers of a piteous controversy. The Second
shows a cheerless dawn with two women crying, one for sorrow,

the other for sympathy. There are never more than two persons
on the stage, and there is sometimes only one, until the crowd
surges in at the end to witness Lucrece's suicide. I have
'
'
spoken for convenience of '
acts and a stage/ yet the sug
gestion of these terms is misleading. Excepting in the last
speech and in the death of Lucrece, the Poem is nowhere
dramatic it tells a story, but at each situation the Poet pauses
:

to survey and to illustrate the romantic and emotional values

of the relation between his characters, or to analyse the moral

passions and the mental debates in any one of them, or even

the physiological perturbations responding to these storms and
tremors of the mind and soul. When Shakespeare describes

Tarquin's stealthy approach :

'
Night wandering weazels shriek to see him there ;
'
They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear :

or Lucrece dawn
shrinking from the :

'
Revealing day through every cranny spies
And seems to point her out where she sits weeping '
:

or Collatine's when he
attempt at railing is inarticulate with
wrath :

f
Yet some time " Tarquin " was pronounced
plain
But through his teeth, as if the name he tore '
:

his method is
wholly alien from the popular methods of our
own day. Yet would they be rash who condemned it out of
hand.
The illustration of gesture,
and of all that passes in the
mind, by the copious use of romantic imagery constitutes an
artistic process which is
obviously charged with sensuous de
and is in its way not less
light, realistic than the dramatic
method which has superseded it. The hours of which
life,
 INTRODUCTION xcvii
even ordinary men and women expend in selfish sensation and a
fumbling, half-conscious introspection, far outnumber the hours
in which they are clearly apprized of eventful action and
speech between themselves and their fellows ; and in men of
rarer temperament life often becomes a monodrama. The
dramatic convention is also but a convention with its own
by over-practice into the senseless rallies of
limitations, staling
a pantomime or the trivial symbols of a meagre psychology.
The common-place sayings and doings of the puppets are
meant by the author to suggest much; and, when they are
duly explained by the critics, we may all admire the reserved
force of the device. But it remains a device. In the romantic
narratives of Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Keats, with their
imaginative illustrations of the mind's moods and their

imaginative use of sights and sounds accidental to moments

of exacerbated sensation, you have another device which

portrays, perhaps more truly, the hidden mysteries of those

temperaments whose secrets are really worth our guessing.
It is at least worth while to watch an artist, who has shown

the inevitable acts and words of any one man in any one
situation, at work within upon the accompanying sequence of
inevitable sensations and desires. And sometimes, too, from
the analysis of emotion in the Lucrece you catch a side-light
on the more subtle revelation in the Sonnets :

'
O happiness, enjoy 'd but of a few,
And if possest, as soon decayed and done
As the morning's silver melting dew
is

Against the golden splendour of the sun !

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.

xcviii INTRODUCTION
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 ?

Vanitas vanitatum Besides this philosophy of pleasure, there

!

is also a pathos in Lucrece which is nowise Mediaeval. The

Poem is touched with a compassion for the weakness of women,
which new and alien from the Trouvere convention
is of a

knight who takes pity on a damsel :

'
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 . . .

Though men can cover crimes with bold stern looks,

Poor women's faces are their own fault's books.'

Then let

'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.'

But in spite of so much that is new in the Lucrece, there is no

absolute break between it and the Venus: the older beauties

persist, if they persist more sparsely, among the fresh-blown.

As ever in Shakespeare's earlier work, there are vivid impres
sions of things seen :

'
You mocking birds, quoth she, your tunes entomb
Within your hollow swelling feather'd breasts . . .

Ay me the bark peel'd from the lofty pine,

!

His leaves will wither, and his sap decay . . .

As lagging fouls before the Northern blast.'

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 .
 INTRODUCTION xcix
Illustrations are still drawn from sport :

'
Look, as the full fed hound or gorged hawk
'

Unapt for tender smell or speedy flight. . . .

There are, as ever, conceits :

e
Without the bed her other fair hand was,
On the green coverlet ; whose perfect white
Showed like an April daisy on the grass ..."
'
And now this pale swan in her watery nest
'

Begins the sad dirge of her certain ending :

and there are, as I have said, tirades of an astonishing rheto

rical force, passages which, recited by an English Rachel,
would still bring down the house. As the denunciations of
Night :

'
Blind muffled bawd ! dark harbour of defame !

'
Grim cave of death !
whispering conspirator :

of Opportunity :

f
Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame,
Thy private feasting to a public fast,
Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name :

Thy sugard tongue to bitter wormwood tast :

Thy violent vanities can never last* :

and of Time :

(
Eater of youth, false slave to false delight,
'
Base watch of woes, sin's pack-horse, vertue's snare :

whose glory it is :

c
To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours
And smear with dust their glitt'ring golden towers . . .

To feed oblivion with decay of things.'

The form of these tirades is repeated from the Venus, but their
music is louder, and is developed into a greater variety of keys,
c INTRODUCTION
sometimes into the piercing minors of the more metaphysical
Sonnets :

f
Why work'st thou mischief in thy pilgrimage ?
Unless thou could'st return to make amends.
One poor retiring minute in an age
Would purchase thee a thousand thousand friends. . . .

'
Thou ceaseless lackey to eternity !

This last apostrophe is great ; but that in Lucrece there should

be so many of the same tremendous type, which have escaped
the fate of hackneyed quotation, is one of the most elusive
factors in a difficult problem:

1
Pure thoughts are dead and still

While Lust and Murder wake to stain and kill. . . .

His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye. . . .

Tears harden lust, though marble wears with raining. . . .

Soft pity enters at an iron gate. . . .

Unruly on the tender spring,

blasts wait
Unwholesome weeds take root with precious flowers,
The adder hisses where the sweet birds sing,
What virtue breeds, iniquity devours/

These, forall their

strength and sweetness, might conceivably
have been written by some other of the greater poets. But
these :

f
And dying eyes gleam'd forth their ashy lights. . . .

but a part of sorrow that we hear

'Tis :

Deep sounds make lesser noise than shallow fords,

And sorrow ebbs, being blown with wind of words.
O ! that is gone for which I sought to live,
And therefore now Ineed not fear to die. ...
For Sorrow, like a heavy hanging bell,
Once set on ringing with his own weight goes '

these, I
say, could have been written by Shakespeare
only.
 INTRODUCTION ci

They may rank with the few which Arnold chose for standards

from the poetry of all ages yet by a caprice of literary criticism

;

they are never quoted, and are scarce so much as known.

XIV

The fate of Shakespeare's Sonnets has been widely different

from the fate of his Narrative Poems. The Venus and the
Lucrece were popular at once, and ran through many editions :

the Sonnets, published in 1609, were not reprinted until 1640,

and were then so effectually disguised by an arbitrary process
of interpolation, omission, re-arrangement, and misleading de

scription as to excite but little attention, until in 1780 Malone

opened a new era of research into their bearing on the life and
character of Shakespeare. Since then the tables have been
turned. For while the Venus and the Lucrece have been
largely neglected, somany volumes, in support of theories so
variously opposed, have been written on this aspect of the
Sonnets, that it has become impossible even to sum up the
contention except by adding yet another volume to already
overladen shelves.
The controversy has its own interest ; but that interest, I

submit, is alien from, and even antagonistic to, an appreciation

of lyrical excellence. I do not mean that the Sonnets are
( '
'mere exercises' written to rival' or to parody' the efforts

of other poets. Such curiosities of criticism are born of a

nervous revulsion from conclusions reached by the more con
'
'
fident champions of a personal theory ; and their very eccen
tricity measures the amount of damage done, not by those who

endeavour, laudably enough, to retrieve a great lost life but, by

those who allow such attempts at biography to bias their con
sideration ofpoems which we possess intact. If, indeed, we
must choose between critics, who discover an autobiography in
the Sonnets, and critics, who find in them a train of poetic
cii INTRODUCTION
exhalations whose airy iridescence
never reflects the passionate
colours of this earth, then the first are preferable. At least

their theory makes certain additions which, though dubious and

defective, are still additions to our guesses at Shakespeare the

man whereas
;
the second subtracts from a known masterpiece
itsnecessary material of experience and emotion. But we need
not choose: the middle way remains of accepting from the
Sonnets only the matter which they embody and the form
which they display.
Taking them up, then, as you would take up the Lucrece or
another example of Shakespeare's earlier work, there is nothing
to note in their metrical form but the perfection of treatment

by which Shakespeare has stamped it for his own. They were

immediately preceded by sonnet-sequences by so many,
many :

indeed, that Shakespeare could hardly have taken his place

at the head of his lyrical contemporaries without proving

that he, too, could write sonnets with the best of them.

Sidney's Astrophel and Stella (written 1581-84-) had been

published in 1591 (when Tom Nash was constrained to bid
'
some other Poets and Rimers to put out their ' rush candles,'
'

and bequeath their crazed quaterzayns' to the chandlers

*

for 'loe, here hee cometh that hath broek

your legs')
with the sonnets of 'sundry other noblemen and gentlemen'
appended, among them twenty-eight by S(amuel) D(aniel),
nineteen of which were afterwards reprinted in his Delia;
the next year H(enry) C(onstable) published
twenty, after
wards reprinted in his Diana; in 1593 B. Barnes published
Parthenophil and Parthenope, containing a hundred and four
(besides madrigals, odes, and eclogues) and in 1594 W. Percy,
;

to whom this
gathering had been dedicated, riposted in twenty,
f
to the fairest Coalia,' which touch the nadir of
incompetence.
But in the same memorable year three other sequences
appeared, whose excellence and fame rendered an attempt in
 INTRODUCTION ciii

this form almost obligatory upon any one claiming to be a poet :

H(enry) C(onstable)'s Diana, with 'divers quatorzains of

honourable and learned personages/ notably, eight by Sidney,
afterwards appended to the Third Edition of the Arcadia ;
Samuel Daniel's Delia, consisting of fifty-five; 1 and Michael
Drayton's Idea's Mirrour, fifty-one strong, augmented to fifty-
nine in 1599 and eventually (1619) to sixty-three. Then in
1595 Spenser published his Amoretti (written 1592(?)), and in
I name
1 596 R.
L(inche) his Diella and B. Griffin his Fidessa.
these last because an example from R. Linche :

f
My mistress' snow-white skin doth much excell
The pure soft wool Arcadian sheep do bear' :

will show what inept fatuity co-existed with the highest flights
of Elizabethan verse and because the third number in Fidessa 2
;

was reprinted by Jaggard in the Passionate Pilgrim (1599),

together with other pieces stolen from Shakespeare and
Barnefield. The publication of such a medley attests the well-
known fact that Elizabethan sonnets were handed about in MS.

for yearsamong poetical cliques, and, as W. Percy complains,

'were committed to the Press' without the authors' knowledge,
'

although
'
concealed ... as things privy to himself. 3 It is

alsoworth noting that the Elizabethans I have named, who

signed their sonnet-sequences sometimes only with initials,
often transfigured them by additions, omissions, and re-

arrangings prior to republication ; and this was especially the

practice of Daniel and Drayton, whose sonnets,
it so
happens,
the closest points of comparison to Shakespeare's. That
offer

two of Shakespeare's should have been published with the

work of others in 1599, and afterwards, with slight variations,

1
Nineteen of which had appeared, cf. supra.
2
Griffin was almost certainly one of Shakespeare's connexions by marriage.
See 'Shakespeare's Ancestry,' The Times, Oct. 14, 1895.
3
W. Percy to the Reader.
k
civ INTRODUCTION
as units in a fairly consecutive series, is quite in the manner of

the time. There is no mention of Delia in all the twenty-eight

*

appended by Daniel to Astrophel and Stella but nineteen of ;

these were interpolated into the later sequence, which bears

her name, yet mentions it in thirteen only out of fifty-five. To
glance at Drayton's Idea is to be instantly suspicious of another

such mystification. The proem begins :

'
Into these loves, who but for Passion looks,
'
At this first sight here let him lay them by :

'
and the author goes on to boast that he sings ' fantasticly
without a far-fetched sigh/ an ' Ah me,' or a ' tear/ Yet the
'

sixty-first in the completed series (1619) is that wonderful sob

of supplication for which Drayton is chiefly remembered :

' '
Since there 's no help, come, let us kiss and part !

Only by the use of the comparative method can we hope to

recover the conditions under which sonnets were written and

published in Shakespeare's day. A side-light, for instance, is

thrown on the half good-natured, half malicious rivalry between
the members of shifting literary cliques, from the fact that

Shakespeare, Chapman, Marston, and Jonson all contributed

poems on the Phoenix to Rob. Chester's Loves Martyr (1601),
2

and that sonnets on the same subject occur in Daniel's

additions to Astrophel (Sonnet in.), and in Drayton's Idea

(Sonnet xvi.). All six poets are suspected, and some are known,
to have been arrayed from time to time on opposed sides in
literary quarrels ; yet you find them handling a common theme
in moreor less friendly emulation. I fancy that many of the

coincidences between the Sonnets of Shakespeare and those of

Drayton, on which charges of plagiarism have been founded, and
1
Sonnet xm. opens thus :

*
My Cynthia hath the waters of mine eyes.'
3
See Note IV. on The Sonnets.
 INTRODUCTION cv
by whose aid attempts have been made to fix the date of Shake
speare's authorship, may be explained more probably by this
general conception of a verse-loving society divided into
'

emulous coteries. Mr. Tyler adduces the conceit of ' eyes and

Dray ton's xxxni. (Ed. 1599), and compares it to

'
heart' in

Shakespeare's XLVI. and XLVII. (1609); but it appears in Henry

Constable. Again, he instances Dray ton's illustration from a
l
'map' in XLIII. ; but, perhaps by reason of the fashionable in
terest in the New World, the image was a common one Daniel :

employs it in his Defence Drayton, in this

of Ryme. And if
'

sonnet, 'strives to eternize the object of his affection in accents

echoed by Shakespeare, Daniel does the like in his L. :

'
Let others sing of Knights and Palladins
In aged accents, and untimely words,' etc. :

with a hit at Spenser that only differs in being a hit from

Shakespeare's reference in cvi. :

'
When in the chronicle of wasted time
Isee descriptions of the fairest wights
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies dead and lovely Knights.'

Of course it differs also in poetic excellence ; yet many chancing

on Daniel's later line :

' '

Against the dark and Time's consuming rage :

might mistake it for one by the mightier artist. Drayton, like

Shakespeare, upbraids some one, whom he compares to the
son and the sex is significant 'of some rich penny- father/
'
for wasting his '
Love and '
Beauty,' which Time must conquer,
' '
'
on the unworthy who cannot make him '
survive in '
immortal
song.'
2
And the next number sounds familiar, with its curious

metaphysical conceit of identity between the beloved one and

1 2
Ed. i599=XLiv. of 1619. Sonnet x. Ed. 1619.
cvi INTRODUCTION
the poet who sings him.
1
If any one had thought it worth his

while to investigate the biographical problems of Dray ton's

obviously doctored Idea, he would have found nuts to crack as

hard as any in Shakespeare's Sonnets. It is best, perhaps, to
take Sidney's advice, and to 'believe with him that there are

many misteries contained in Poetrie, which of purpose were

written darkely.' At any rate, the ironic remainder of the
throws a flood of light on the extent to which the
passage
'
practice of immortalising prevailed:
Believe' the poets, he says,

'when they tellyou they make you immortal by their

will

verses,' for, thus

*
doing, your name shall flourish in the Printers'

shoppes ;
thus doing, you shall bee of kinne to many a poetical

preface ; thus doing, you shall be most fayre, most rich, most
2
wise, most all, you shall dwell upon superlatives.'

Sonnets, then, belong to a sonneteering

Shakespeare's
age, and exhibit many curious coincidences with the verse
of his friends and rivals. But his true distinction in mere
metrical form, apart from finer subtleties of art, consists in
this that he established the quatorzain as a separate type of
:

the European Sonnet; he took as it were a sport from the

garden of verse, and fixed it for an English variety. The credit

for this has been given to Daniel; but the attribution can

not be sustained. For Daniel sometimes hankered after the

Petrarchan model, though in a less degree than any other of
he travels in Italy, contrasts 3
Shakespeare's contemporaries :

his Muse with Petrarch's, 4 imitates his structure, 5 and strains

after feminine rhymes. Shakespeare alone selected the
English quatorzain, and sustained it
throughout a sonnet-

1
Cf. Shakespeare's xxxix., XLII., LXII.
3
Sidney, Apologie.
3
Delia> XLVII., XLVIII.
4
Ibid., XXXVHI.
5
Ibid., xxxi. and xxxm. and x. of the Sonnets appended to Arcadia.
 INTRODUCTION cvii

sequence.
1
Even the merit of invention claimed for Daniel
must be denied him. When Shakespeare makes Slender
2
say :
'
I had rather than forty shillings I had my book of
'

songs and sonnets here he refers to Tottel's Miscellany,

:

published in 1557. But the numbers by the Earl of Surrey in

that anthology were written many years earlier, and in the

Eighth of his Sonnets there printed, you will find as good a

model for Shakespeare's form as any in Daniel's Delia :

'
Set me
whereas the sunne doth parche the grene
Or where his beames do not dissolve the yse :

In temperate heate where he is felt and sene :

In presence prest of people madde or wise.

Set me in hye, or yet in lowe degree :

In longest night, or in the shortest daye :

In clearest skye, or where clowdes thickest be :

In lusty youth, or when my heeres are graye.

Set me in heaven, in earth or els in hell,
In hyll, or dale, or in the fomyng flood :

Thrall, or at large, alive where so I dwell :

Sicke or in health : fame or good.

in evyll
Hers will I be, and onely with this thought
Content my selfe, although my chaunce be nought. 3

The theme is borrowed from Petrarch but the form is Surrey's, ;

who used it in nine out of his fourteen sonnets, and essayed the
Petrarchan practice in but one. By this invention he achieved
a sweetness of rhythm never attained in any strict imitation
of the Italian model until the present century. His sonnet is
the true precursor of Shakespeare's, and it owes directly little
more than the number of its lines to France and Italy being :

founded on English metres of alternating rhymes, with a final

1
Sidney and Drayton frequently copy French and Italian models.
Spenser's linked quatrains are neither sonnets nor quatorzains they re :

present an abortive attempt to create a new form.

2
Merry Wives of Windsor, \. i.
3
'Form and favour' in Shakespeare's Sonnet CXXV., 'golden tresses'
in his LXVIII. may also be echoes of Surrey.
cviii INTRODUCTION
couplet copied by Chaucer from the French two centuries
before.
The number of sonnet-sequences published in the last decade
of the Sixteenth Century, during which Shakespeare lived at
London in the midst of a literary movement, raises a presump
tion in favour of an early date for his Sonnets, published in

1609; and this presumption is confirmed by the publication

of two of them in The Passionate Pilgrim (1599). We know
from civ. that three years had elapsed since he first saw
the youth to whom the earlier Sonnets were
addressed;
and the balance of internal evidence, founded whether on
affinities to the plays or on references to political and social

events affecting Shakespeare as a dramatist and a man, 1 points

to the years 1599-1602 as the most probable period for their
2
composition. Further confirmation of an almost decisive
character has been adduced by Mr. Tyler. 3 But I pass his

arguments, since they are based, in part, on the assumption

that the youth in question was William Herbert; and, al

though Mr. Tyler would, as I think, win a verdict from

any jury composed and deciding after the model of Scots
procedure, his case is one which cannot be argued without
the broaching of many issues outside the sphere of artistic

appreciation.

xv
Had Shakespeare's Sonnets suffered the fate of Sappho's
lyrics, few surviving fragments would have won him
their
an equal glory, and we should have been damnified in the
amount only of a priceless bequest. But our heritage is almost

1
Cf. Sonnet LXVI. : 'And art made tongue-tied '

by authority : with the

edict of June 1600,
inhibiting plays and playgoers.
2
See Note in. on The Sonnets.
3 '
Introduction to the Shakespeare Q., No. 30' and Shakespeare's Sonnets.
London, D. Nutt, 1890.
 INTRODUCTION cix
certainly intact : the Sonnets, as we find them in the Quarto of

1609, whether or not they were edited by Shakespeare, must

so far have commanded his approval as to arouse no protest
against the form in which they appeared. It would have
been as easy for him and re-publish as it is impos
to re-shuffle
sible to believe that he could so re-shuffle and re-publish, and

no record of his action survive. Taking the Sonnets, then,

as published in their author's lifetime, you discover their
obvious division into two Series: in the First, one hundred and

twenty-five, closed by an Envoy of six couplets, are addressed

to a youth ;
in the Second, seventeen out of twenty-eight are

addressed to the author's mistress, and the others comment,

more or less directly, on her infidelity and on his infatuation.
Most critics indeed all not quixotically compelled to reject
a reasonable view are agreed that the order in the First
Series can scarce be bettered ; and that within that Series
certainGroups may be discerned of sonnets written at the
same time, each with the same theme and divided by gaps
of silence from the sonnets that succeed them. There is

agreement as to the confines of the principal

also substantial

Groups; but between these there are shorter sequences and

even isolated numbers, among which different critics have
succeeded in tracing a greater or lesser degree of connexion.
The analogy of a correspondence, carried on over years between

friends, offers perhaps the best clue to the varying continuity

of the First Series. There, too, you have silences which attest
the very frequency of meetings, with silences born of long
absence and absorption in diverse pursuits ; there, too, you
have spells of voluminous writing on intimate themes, led up
to and followed by sparser communications on matters of a
less dear importance. The numbers seem to have been chrono
logically arranged ; and, that being so, the alternation of con
tinuous with intermittent production shows naturally in a
ex INTRODUCTION
to another at
collection of poems addressed by one person
intervals over a period of more than three years.
There are seven main Groups in the First Series :

Group A, i. -xix. : The several numbers echo the arguments

in Venus and Adonis, Stanzas xxvu.-xxix. They are written

ostensibly, to urge marriage

on a beautiful youth, but, essen

tially, they constitute a continuous poem on Beauty and

Decay. the subject, varied by the introduction of
That is

two subsidiary themes ; the one, philosophic, on immortality

conferred by breed :

'
From fairest creatures, we desire increase
'
That thereby beauty's Rose might never die :

the other, literary, on immortality conferred by verse :

'
My love shall in my verse ever live young.'

This line is the last of the sonnet which serves as an envoy

to the Group. Here follow Sonnets xx.-xxi., xxn., xxin.-xxiv.,
xxv. : occasional verses written, playfully or affectionately, to
the youth who is now dear to their author. In giving the
occasional sonnets I bracket only those which are obviously

connected and obviously written at the same time.

Group B, xxvi .-xxxn. A continuous poem on absence, dis

:

patched, mayit be, in a single letter, since it opens with a

formal address and ends in a full close. In this group there
are variations on the disgust of separation and the solace of
remembered love ; but it is a poem and not a letter turning
each succeeding emotion to its full artistic account.

Group C, XXXIII.-XLII. : The first of the more immediately

personal garlands. The writer's friend has wronged him by
stealing his mistress's love. The counterpart to this group,

evidently written on the same theme and at the same time,

will be found in the Second Series (CXXXIII.-CXLIV.), addressed
in complaint to the writer's mistress, or written in comment on
 INTRODUCTION cxi
her complicity in this wrong. The biographical interest of this

Group has won it an undeserved attention at the expense

of others. Many suppose that all the Sonnets turn on this

theme,, or, at least, that the loudest note of passion is here

sounded. But this is not so. Of all ten three at the most
can be called tragic. These are xxxiv. but it arises out of

the lovely imagery of xxxm. ; xxxvi., but it ends :

'
I love thee in such sort
'
As thou being mine,, mine is
thy good report ;

and XL., but it ends :

e
Yet we must not be foes.' xxxm.
is indeed beautiful, but the others return to the early
theme of mere immortalising, or are expressed in abstruse
or playful conceits which make it impossible to believe they
mirror a soul in pain. They might be taken for designed
interpolations, did they not refer,by the way, to a sorrow,
or misfortune, not to be distinguished from the theme of
their fellows. Knowing what Shakespeare can do to express

anguish and passion, are we not absurd to find the evidence

of either in these Sonnets, written, as they are, on a private

sorrow, but in the spirit of conscious art ?

'
If my slight Muse do please these curious days
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.' xxxvin.

Here follow XLIII., XLIV.-XLV., XLVI.-XLVII.-XLVIII., XLIX., L.-LI.,

LII., connected or occasional pieces on mere absence. Then

LIII.-LIV., and LV. return to the theme of immortalising. The
first two are steeped in Renaissance platonism ; while the last

(asMr. Tyler has shown) does but versify a passage in which

Meres quotes Ovid and Horace (1598): it seems to be an Envoy.
Group D, LVI.-LXXIV. The Poet writes again after silence:
:

'
Sweet love, renew thy force.' The first three are occasioned
by a voluntary absence of his friend ; but that absence, un

expectedly prolonged, inspires a mood of contemplation which,

cxii INTRODUCTION
is by much re
becoming ever more and more metaphysical,
moved from the spirit of the earlier poem on absence (Group

B, xxvi.-xxxn.) with its realistic handling of the same theme.

In LIX. the poet dwells on the illusion of repeated experience,
and speculates on the truth of the philosophy of cycles :

1
If there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled.'

In LX. he watches the changing toil of Time :

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore

'

So do our minutes hasten to their end.'

In LXI. he gazes into the night at the phantasm of his absent

friend, and thus leads up to a poem in three parts (LXII.-LXV.,
LXVI.-LXX., LXXI.-LXXIV.) on Beauty that Time must ruin, on
the disgust of Life, and on Death. These nineteen numbers,
conceived in a vein of melancholy contemplation, are among
the most beautiful of all, and are more subtly metaphysical
than any, save only cxxni., cxxiv., cxxv. There follow LXXV.,
LXXVI., LXVII.

Group E, LXXVIII.-LXXXVI., is the second of a more immediate

personal interest. It deals with rival poets and their

especially with one Poet who by the proud

f
meretricious art
'
full sail of his great verse has bereft the writer of his friend's
admiration. The nine are written in unbroken sequence and
are playful throughout, suggesting no tragedy.
But Group F, LXXXVII.-XCVI., the spirit of the verse
in

suddenly changes the music becomes plangent, and the

:

theme of utter estrangement is handled with a complete

command over dramatic yet sweetly modulated discourse.
The Group is, indeed, a single speech of tragic intensity,
written in elegiac verse more exquisite than Ovid's own.
Here the First Series most obviously broken, and xcvu.
is

xcvni.-xcix. emphasise the break. They tell of two absences

the first in late summer (xcvi.), the second in the spring.
 INTRODUCTION cxiii

They are isolated from the Group which precedes, and the
Group which follows them, and they embrace an absence
extending, at least, from early autumn in one year to April
in the next. The first is of great elegiac beauty, the second
of curious metaphysical significance ; the third seems an in

ferior, perhaps a rejected, version of the second.

Group G, opens after a great silence

c.-cxxv., Where :
'

'
art thou, Muse, that thou forget' st so long and the :

poet develops in it a single sustained attack on the Law of

Change, minimising the importance of both outward chances
and inward moods. Once more taking his pen, he invokes
his Muse (c.)
'
to be a satire to Decay,' to bring contempt on
'
Time's spoils/ and to '
give fame faster than Time wastes Life.'

True, he argued against this in Group E deprecating (LXXXII.) :

' '
'
strained touches of rhetoric when applied to one ' truely fair
' '

by true plain words

' '
and, therefore, truely sympathized :

maintaining (LXXXIII.) that silence at least did not ' impair beauty,'
and disparaging (LXXXV.) comments of praise richly compiled.'
'

But now he puts this same defence into the mouth of his Muse,
making her argue in turn (ci.) that Truth and Beauty, which
' ' '
both depend on
'
his Love, need no '
colour and no ' pencil
since 'best is best, if never intermixed.' Yet he bids her
'
excuse not silence so,' since it lies in her to make his love
'
outlive a guilded tomb,' and '
seem long hence as he shows
now.' In this Group, as in earlier resumptions, the music is at
first imperfect.But it soon changes, and in en. the apology for
past silence is sung in accents sweet as the nightingale's
described. There are marked irregularities in the poetic
excellence of the Sonnets : which ever climbs to its highest
pitch in the longer and more closely connected sequences.
This is the longest of all a poem of retrospect over a space
:

of three years to the time when ' love was new, and then but in
the spring.' In its survey it goes over the old themes with a
cxiv INTRODUCTION
soft and touch Beauty and Decay, Love, Constancy, the
silvery :

Immortalising of the Friend's beauty conceived as an incarna

tion of Ideal Beauty viewed from imaginary standpoints in
Time. And
interwoven with this re-handling, chiefly of the
themes in the First and Fourth Groups, is an apology (cix.-
cxii., cxvii.-cxx., cxxn.) for a negligence on the Poet's part

of the rites of friendship, which he sets off (cxx.) against his

'
Friend's earlier unkindness That you were once unkind,
:

befriends me now' This apology offers the third, and only

other, immediate reference to Shakespeare's personal ex

perience ; and, on these sonnets, as on those which treat of

the Dark Lady and the Rival Poet, attention has been

unduly concentrated. They seem founded on episodes and

moods necessarily incidental to the life which we know
Shakespeare must have led. To say that he could never have
slighted his art as an actor :

'
Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there
And made myself a motley to the view . . .

nature is subdued
My '
To what it works in like the dyer's hand :

and then to seek for far-fetched and fantastic interpretations, is

to evince an ignorance, not only of the obloquy to which actors

were then exposed, and of the degradations they had to bear,
but also of human nature as we know it even in heroes. Well

ington is said to have wept over the carnage at Waterloo ; the

grossness of his material often infects the artist, and potter's
'

'
rot has its analogue in every profession. This feeling of un
deserved degradation is a mood most incident to all who work,
whether artists or men of action an accident, real but transitory,
:

which obliterates the contours of the soul, and leaves them in

tact, as a fog swallows the Town without destroying it.

In cxxi. there is a natural digression from this
personal apology
to reflexions cast on In cxxn. the
Shakespeare's good name.
 INTRODUCTION cxv
apology is resumed with particular reference to certain tablets,
the gift of the Friend, but which the Poet has bestowed
on another. He takes this occasion to resume the main
theme of the whole group by pouring contempt on 'dates'
' '
' '
and records and tallies to score his dear love the tablets, :

'
though in fact given away, are still within his brain, full

charactered, beyond date even to Eternity/

all Thus does
he lead up directly to the last three sonnets (cxxiir., cxxiv.,
cxxv.), which close this Satire to Decay/ and with it the whole
'

series (i.-cxxv.).They are pieces of mingled splendour and

obscurity in which Shakespeare presses home his metaphysical
attack on the reality of Time ; and the difficulty, inherent in an

argument so transcendental, is further deepened

by passing
allusions to contemporary events and persons, which many have
sought to explain, with little success. Here follows an Envoy
of six couplets to the whole Series.
The Second Series shows fewer traces of design in its sequence
'
than the First. The magnificent cxxix. on '
lust in action is

wedged between two one addressed to Shakespeare's mistress

:

and cne descriptive of her charm both playful in their fancy.

;

CXLVI. to his soul, grave pathos and beauty, follows on a

with its

foolish verbal conceit, written in octosyllabic verse ; while CLIII.

and CLIV. are contrived in the worst manner of the French

Renaissance on the theme of a Greek Epigram. 1 But the
rest are, all of them, addressed to a Dark Lady whom

Shakespeare loved in spite of her infidelity, or they com

ment on the wrong she does him. It cannot be doubted that
they were written at the same time and on the same subject as
the sonnets in Group C, XXXIII.-XLII., or that they were excluded
from that group on any ground except that of their being written
to another than the Youth to whom the whole First Series is

addressed. Like the numbers in Group C, they are alternately

1
Dowden, 1881.
cxvi INTRODUCTION
playful and pathetic ; their diction is often as exquisite, their
discourse often as eloquent. But sometimes they are sardonic
and even fierce :

'
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.'

XVI

The division of the Sonnets into two Series and a number

of subsidiary Groups, springs merely from the author's actual
of their production,
experiences, which were the occasions
and from the order in time of those experiences. But the
poetic themes experiences and their
suggested by such
treatment by Shakespeare belong to another sphere of con
sideration. They derive not from the brute chances of life
which, in a man
not a poet, would have suggested no poetry,
and, to a poet not Shakespeare, would have dictated poetry of
another character and a lesser perfection, but from Shake
speare's inborntemperament and acquired skill, both of selection
and execution. These poetic themes are comparatively few in
number, and recur again and again in the several Groups. Some
are more closely connected with the facts of Shakespeare's life ;

others embody the general experience of man :

others, again,
detached, not only from the life of Shakespeare but, from the
thought of most men, embody the transcendental speculations
of rare minds which, at certain times and places in Socratic
Athens and in the Europe of the Renaissance have commanded
a wide attention. Follows a tabulation.

(1) Themes personal to Shakespeare :

His Friend's Error. Group C, XXXIII.-XLII., xciv.-xcvi., cxx.

cxxxni.-cxxxv.
The Dark Lady. Group C, and the Second Series, CXXVII.-CLII.
His Own Error, xxxvi., ex., cxn., cxvu.-cxxii.
His Own Misfortune, xxv., xxix., xxxvu., cxi.
The Rival Poets, xxi., xxxii. Group E, LXXVIII.-LXXXVI., and (as
I hold) LXVII., LXVIII., LXXVI., and cxxv.
 INTRODUCTION cxvii
That there were more Rival Poets than one is evident from
LXXVIII. 3 :

'
Every alien pen hath got my use,
'
And under thee their poesy disperse :

and from LXXXIII. 12 :

(
For I impair not beauty, being mute
When others would give life.'

And among these others who still

sing, while the Poet is

himself silent, two are conspicuous :

'
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
'
Than both your poets can in praise devise.

(2) Themes which embody general experience :

Love, xx.-xxxn., xxxvu., XLIII.-LII., LVI., LXIII., LXVI., LXXI.,

LXXII., LXXV., LXXXVII.-XGII.J XCVI. , CII., CV., CXV.-CXVI.
Absence. Group B, xxvi.-xxxi., xxxix., XLIII.-LII., LVII., LVIII.,
xcvu., xcvni.
Beauty and Decay. Group A, i.-xix., xxii., LXXVII.

At times this Theme is treated in a mood of contemplation

remote from general experience as in LIV., LV., LX., LXIII. -LXV.,

and, thus handled, may serve, with two Themes, derived

from it :

Immortality by Breed, i.-xiv., xvi., xvii.

Immortality by Verse, xv., xvn.-xix., xxxvni., LIV., LV., LX., LXV.,
LXXIV., LXXXI., c., ci., cvn. :

for a transition to (3) Themes which are more abstruse and

demand a more particular examination.

Identity with his Friend :

not persuade me I am old

'
xx. My glass shall
So long as youth and thou are of one date. . . .

For all that beauty that doth cover thee

Is but the seemly raiment of my heart. . . .'

xxxix. '
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring ?
And what is't but mine own when I praise thee? . . .'
cxviii INTRODUCTION
XLII.
'
But here's the joy :
my friend and I are one. . . .'

'
LXII. Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise,
'

Painting my age with beauty of thy days. . . .

cxn. (See Note.)

cxxxui. '
Me from my self thy cruel eye hath taken
And my next self (his friend) thou harder hast ingrossed
cxxxiv.
'
My self I '11 forfeit, so that other mine
Thou wilt restore.'

The conceit of Identity with the person addressed is but a part

of the machinery of Renaissance Platonics derived, at many

removes, from discussions in the Platonic Academy at Florence.

yearn day and night
'
Michelangelo had written in 1553 : If I

without intermission to be in Rome, it is only in order to return

'
l
again to life, which I cannot enjoy without the soul viz.,

his friend.

The Idea of Beauty.

In xxxvii. 'That I ... by a part of
thy glory live' is a all
f
'Shadow,' cast by his Friend's excellence, which yet doth such
'
substance give that I am not lame, poor, nor despised.'
'
In
xxxi. all whom supposed dead
'
the Poet has loved and
love ' '

'
and all Love's loving parts '
are not truly dead, but things
removed that hidden in there lie' viz. in the Friend's
bosom :

'
Their images Ilov'd I view in thee,
And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.'

The mystical confusion with and in the Friend of all that is

beautiful or lovable in the Poetand others, is a development

from the Platonic theory of the IDEA OF BEAUTY: the eternal
type of which all beautiful things on earth are but shadows.
It is derived by poetical hyperbole from the Poet's prior
identification of the Friend's beauty with Ideal Beauty. The
theory of Ideal Beauty was a common feature of Renaissance
1
J. A. Symonds' translation.
 INTRODUCTION cxix
Poetry throughout Europe. Du Bellay had sung it in France

fifty years before Shakespeare in England :

La, O mon ame, au plus haut ciel guidee,

'

Tu y pourras recognoistre 1'idee

De la beaute qu'en ce monde j'adore.'
We need not that Shakespeare studied Du Bellay 's
infer

verse or the great corpus of Platonic poetry in Italy. Spenser,

who translated some of Du Bellay's sonnets at seventeen, had
touched the theory in his Hymne of Heavenly Beautie (1596):
'
More faire is that (heaven), where those Idees on hie
'

Enraunged be, which Plato so admired :

and had set it forth at length in his Hymne in Honour of Beautie

(1596):
1
What time this world's great Workmaister did cast
To make all things such as we now behold,

It seems that he before his eyes had plast

A goodly Paterne. . . .

That wondrous Paterne . . .

Is perfect Beautie, which all men adore. . . .

How vainely then do ydle wits invent,

That Beautie is nought else but mixture made
Of colours faire. . . .

Hath white and red in it such wondrous powre,

That it can pierce through th'eyes unto the hart . . . ?

That Beautie is not,, as fond men misdeeme,

An outward shew of things that only seeme. . . .

But that fairelampe . . .

... is heavenly born(e) and cannot die,

Being a parcell of the purest skie. . . .

Therefore where-ever that thou doest behold

A comely corpse, with beautie faire endewed,
Know this for certaine, that the same doth hold
A beauteous soul. .' . .

Mr. Walter Raleigh has pointed out to me that Spenser and

Shakespeare must have been familiar with Hoby's translation of

cxx INTRODUCTION
l
Baldassare Castiglione's // Cortegiano, published in 1 56 1 Indeed .

in his in Honour of Beautie does but versify the

Spenser Hymne
argument of Hoby's admirable Fourth Book. Of the beawtie,' '

Hoby writes, that we meane, which that

'
is onlie it appeereth in
bodies, and especially in the face of man we will terme it an in . . .

fluence of the heavenlie bountifulness, the whiche for all it stretcheth

over all thynges that be created (like the light of the Sonn) yet
when it findeth out a face well proportioned, and framed with a

certein livelie agreement of severall colours, and set forth with

lightes and shadowes, and with an orderly distance and limites of

lines, therinto it distilleth itself and appeereth most welfavoured,
and decketh out and lyghtneth the subject, where it shyneth
with a marveylous grace and glistringe (like the sonne beames
that strike against a beautifull plate of fine golde wrought and
sett with precyous jewelles).'

In Hoby's exposition the beauty of the human face is the

best reflector of the Heavenly Beauty which, like the sunlight,
'
is reflected from all things
'
from the
world/ the heaven/
the 'earth/ the 'sun/ the 'moon/ the 'planets' from 'fowls/
' '
'
f
trees,' ships/ buildings even from the roof of houses
' '
:

so that 'if under the skye where there falleth neyther haile

nor rayne a mann

should builde a temple without a reared

ridge, it is to be thought, that it coulde have neyther a sightly

showe nor any beawtie. Beeside other thinges therefore, it

giveth great praise to the world, in saying that it is beawtifull.

It is praised, in sayinge, the beawtifull heaven, beawtifull

earth, beawtifull sea, beawtifull rivers, beawtifull wooddes,

trees, gardeines, beawtifull cities, beawtifull churches, houses,

'
1
The Courtyer of Count Baldessar Castilio divided into foure bookes. Very
necessary and profitable for yonge Gentilmen and Gentilwomen abiding in
Court, Palaice or Place, done into Englyshe by Thomas Hoby. Imprinted at
London by Wyllyam Seres at the signe of the Hedghogge, 1561.' Cf.
' '
Adieu, my true court-friend : farewell my dear Castilio where Malevole. :

addresses Bilioso. Marston's The Malcontent ',

I. i.
302.
 INTRODUCTION cxxi
armies. In conclusion this comelye and holye beawtie is a
wonderous settinge out of everie thinge. And it may be said
that Good and bearvtifull be after a sort one selfe thinge.

especiallie in the bodies of men : of the beawtie whereof the

nighest cause (I suppose) is the beawtie of the soule the :

which as a partner of the right and heavenlye beawtie,

maketh sightly and beawtifull what ever she toucheth.'
Plato's theory of Beauty had been ferried long before from
Byzantium to Florence, and had there taken root, so that
Michelangelo came to write :

1
Lo, the lovely things we find on earth,
all

Resemble for the soul that rightly sees

That source of bliss divine which gave us birth :

Nor have we first-fruits or remembrances

Of heaven elsewhere. Thus, loving loyally,
God, and make death sweet by thee.'
1
I rise to

And from Italy young noblemen, accredited to Italian courts or

travelling for their pleasure, had brought its influence to France
and England. So you have Spenser's Hymne Drayton harping ;

on Idea 2 and Barnfield (1595) apostrophising the sects

; :

{
The Stoicks thinke (and they come neere the truth)
That vertue is the chiefest good of all,
The Academicks on Idea call.'

Shakespeare must have read Spenser's Hymn and Hoby's Cour-

tyer, in which Plato, Socrates, and Plotinus are all instanced :

1
J. A. Symonds's translation. The great body of Platonic poetry did not
pass without cavil even in Italy, for thus does the Blessed Giovenale Ancina
state the defence and his reply Mi rispose per un poco di scudo alia di-
:
'

fesa, non ne disonesto amore, se ben vano,

esser cio tenuto ivi per lascivo,
e leggiero, ma Platonico, civile, modesto, con simplicita, e senza malitia
alcuna, e per consequente poi honesto, gratioso, e comportabile. Al che
sogginusi io subito, non amor Platonico, no, ma si ben veramente Plutonico,
cive Satanico, e Infernale.' Nuove Lattdi Ariose della Beatissima Virgine.
Rome. 1600.
8
On the title-page of The Shepherd's Garland, 1593 ; Ideas Mirrour,
1504, etc.
cxxii INTRODUCTION
the phrase genio Socratem applied to him in the epitaph
on his monument attests his fondness for Platonic theories ;

he was conversant with these theories, and in the Sonnets

he addressed a little audience equally conversant with

them; it is, therefore, not surprising that he should have

borrowed their terminology. In some sonnets he does so, but
the Sonnets are not, therefore, as some have argued, an
exposition or of its Florentine develop
of Plato's theory
ments. Shakespeare in certain passages does but lay under
contribution the philosophy of his time just as, in other

passages, he lays under contribution the art and occupations

of his time, and in others, more frequently, the eternal

processes of Nature. His Sonnets are no more a treatise of

philosophy than they are a treatise of law. So far, indeed,
is he from pursuing, as Spenser did pursue, a methodical
exposition of the Platonic theory that he wholly inverts the
very system whose vocabulary he has rifled. The Friend's
'
beauty is no longer Hoby's plate of fine gold,' which reflects
Eternal Beauty more brilliantly than aught else. For a
greater rhetorical effect it becomes in Shakespeare's hand
itself the very archetypal pattern and substance of which all

beautiful things are but shadows.^

In
the Poet urges the youth to marry, 'That thereby
i.

'
2
Beauty's Rose might never die :

'
xiv. Truth and Beauty shall together thrive
If from thy self to store thou would'st convert :

Or else of thee this I prognosticate,

Thy end is Truth's and Beauty's doom and date.'
'
xix. His is
Beauty's pattern to succeeding men/

1
'Shadow' umbra) was the term of art in Renaissance Platonism
(Lat.
for the Reflexion of the
Eternal Type. Giordano Bruno discoursed in Paris
'De Umbris Idearum.
2
See Note on Typography of the Quarto (1609).
 INTRODUCTION cxxiii
LIII.
'
What is
your whereof are you made
substance,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend ?
Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
'
And you, but one, can every shadow lend.
The beauty of Adonis is the beauty of
is such a shadow, so
Helen : the '
doth shadow of your
spring of the year . . .

beauty show and you in every blessed shape we know.

. . .

In all external grace you have some part.' And in xcvni.

'
'
The lily's white, the deep vermilion in the rose are :

'
But figures of delight, drawn after you, you pattern of all

those,'
(
As with your shadow I with these did play.'

The Truth of Beauty.

The theme of the IDEA OF BEAUTY, of his friend's beauty as
the incarnation of an eternal type, is often blended with another

metaphysical theme THE TRUTH OF BEAUTY, e.g. in xiv. (supra).

'
LIV.: Truth is an ornament which makes Beauty seem more '

beauteous. Here the Poet seems to equivocate on the double

sense, moral and intellectual, of our word Truth, comparable to
the double sense of our word Right, if, indeed, this be altogether
a confusion of thought arising from poverty of language, and not
a mystical perception by poets of some higher harmony between
the Beautiful, the Good, and the True. Goethe wrote :

Das Schone enthdlt das Gute ; and Keats :

'
Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty, that is all
Ye know on earth and all ye need to know.'

Many hold this for madness, but if that it be, it has been a part
of the 'divine madness' of poets since they first sang 'the
'
most excellent of all forms of enthusiasm (or possession) ;
l
and
Shakespeare, when he handles the TRUTH OF BEAUTY, does so
almost always with but a secondary allusion, or with no allusion

1
Plato's Phcsdrus. Plato and Platonism, Pater, 156.
cxxiv INTRODUCTION
at all, to his Friend's constancy. He argues that the IDEA OF
BEAUTY, embodied in his Friend's beauty, of which all other
beautiful things are%ut shadows, is also Truth : an exact coin
'
cidence with an ' eternal form to which transitory presentments
'
'
do but approximate. Plato wrote Beauty alone has any :

such manifest image of itself: 'so that it is the clearest, the

most certain of all things, and the most lovable,' l and Shake
11.
speare (Lucrece, 29-30) :

'
Beauty itself doth of itself persuade
The eyes of men without an orator.'

Thus, in LXII., the Poet looks in the glass and thinks :

No face so gracious is as mine,

'

No shape so true, no truth of such account.'

And why shape so true and the truth of it so important ?
is his

Because, reverting to the theme of Identity, his shape is that of

the Friend's beauty :

'
'Tis thee (myself) that for myself I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy days. . . .'

Again in ci. :

f
O Truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed ?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends.'
And the Poet makes his Muse reply :

'
Truth needs no colour with his colour fixt,

Beauty no pencil beauty's truth to lay :

But best is best, if never intermixt.'

False Art Obscures the Truth of Beauty.

In this last passage the Poet resumes an argument, put forward

in earlier numbers, that the beauty of his Friend, being true,
can only suffer from false painting' and 'ornament.' While
<

so defending which is Truth, from the disfigurement

Beauty,
1
Plato's Phcsdrus. Plato and Platonism, Pater, 158.
 INTRODUCTION cxxv
of false ornament, Shakespeare compares the false art of the
Rival Poets, who also sing his Love, with the common practices
1 2
of painting the cheeks and wearing false hair :

xxi.
(
So is itnot with me as with that Muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use,
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse. . . .

O let me true in love but truly write,

And then believe me my love is as fair
As any mother's child/

In LXVII. all these themes are brought together :

'
Why should false painting immitate his cheek
And dead seeing of his living hue ?
steal

Why should poor Beauty indirectly seek '

Roses of shaddow, since his Rose is true ?

In LXVIII.
'
His cheek is the map of days out-worn, before the

golden tresses of the dead . . . were shorn away ... to live a

'

second life on second head :

(
And him as for a map doth nature store
To shew false art what Beauty was of yore.'

'
Here *
cannot refer, at any rate exclusively, to the
false art

actual use of fucuses and borrowed locks, for when the theme

1
Cf. Richard Barnfield, The Complaint of Chastitie, 1594. An obvious
echo of the tirades in Shakespeare's Lucrece. He writes of many :

'
Whose lovely cheeks (with rare vermillion tainted)
'
Can never blush because their faire is painted.
'
O faire foule tincture, staine of Women-kinde,
Mother of Mischiefe, Daughter of Deceate,
False traitor to the Soule, blot to the Minde,
Usurping Tyrant of true Beautie's seate ;
Right Coisner of the eye, lewd Follie's baite,
The flag of filthiness, the sinke of Shame,
The Divell's dey, dishonour of thy name.'
2
Cf. Bassanio's speech, Merchant of Venice^ iii. 2 :
'
The world is still

deceived by ornament.'
cxxvi INTRODUCTION
is resumed the illustration of 'gross painting'
(LXXXIL),
is
'
<
false art of the Rival Poets
directly applied to the
:

'
When they have devized
What strained touches Rhetoric can lend,
Thou, truly fair, wert truly sympathised
In true plain words, hy thy true telling friend.
And their gross painting might be better used
Where cheeks need blood, in thee it is abused.'

LXXXIII. continues :

{
I never saw that you did painting need,
And therefore to your fair no painting set. . . .

Their lives more life in one of your fair eyes

Than both your Poets can in praise devize/

And in LXXXIV. :

f
Who is it that says most, which can say more
Than this rich praise, that you alone are you.'

This '
false painting' is the 'false art' of the Rival Poets in
'
' '
LXXXV., their praise richly compiled/ their golden quill
and '
precious phrase by all the Muses filed/

Imaginary Standpoints in Time.

The Poet views this IdealBeauty of his friend from Imaginary
Standpoints in Time. He looks back on it from an imaginary
future (civ.), and tells the ' Age unbred, Ere you were born was

Beauty's summer dead/ He looks forward to it from the past,

and, the descriptions of the fairest wights in the Chronicle of
wasted Time (cvi.) shew him that
(
Their antique pen would have exprest
Even such Beauty as you master now/

So all their 'praises are but prophesies/ Sometimes, with

deeper mysticism, he all but accepts the Illusion of Repeated
f
Experience for a truth of Philosophy. If there be nothing new,
 INTRODUCTION cxxvii
'
but that which is, hath been before (LIX.), then might e
Record
with a backward look

Even of five hundred courses of the sun

Show me your image in some antique book.'

For his Friend's beauty is more than a perfect type prophesied

in the past : it isa re-embodiment of perfection as perfection
was in the prime :

<
LXVII. O, him she (Nature) stores, to show what wealth she had
In days long since before these last so bad .' . .

(
LXVIII. And him as for a map doth Nature store
To shew false art what Beauty was of yore.'

The Unreality of Time.

Since this Ideal Beauty
true, is very Truth, it is independent
is

of Time, and eternal; with the love it engenders, is also

it,

independent of accident, and is unconditioned :

'
cvn. Eternal love in love's fresh case
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
'

But makes antiquity for aye his page . . .

(
cxvn. Love 's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come.'

Thus does the whole Series culminate in an Attack on the

Reality of Time. cxxin., cxxiv., cxxv. are obscure to us ;

yet they are written in so obvious a sequence, and with so

unbroken a rhythmical swing, as to preclude the idea of ex
tensive corruption in the text. They must once have been
intelligible. Some attempts at elucidation have been made
'

by fixing on single words, such as state (cxxiv. 1 ) and '

'
canopy' (cxxv. 1), and then endeavouring to discover an
allusion to historical events or to the supposed nobility of
the person to whom the verses were addressed. But these

attempts dissemble the main drift of the verses' meaning, which

cxxviii INTRODUCTION
is clearly directed, at least
in cxxm. and cxxiv., against the
of Time. In c., which opens this
reality and importance

Group (c.-cxxv.), the Poet has bidden his Muse to 'make

Time's spoils despised everywhere.' In cxvi. he has declared
that Love is an eternal power, of a worth unknown, but im

measurably superior to the accidents of Time. In LIX. he

has urged that even our thoughts may be vain repetitions of a

prior experience :

f
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 ?

And here, in a magnificent hyperbole, he asserts that 'pyramids'

built up by Time with a might which is
'
(1, 2)
newer' by
comparison to his own changelessness, are, for all their antiquity,
'
but new dressings of sights familiar to ante-natal existence
'
:

'
Our dates are brief and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old.'

So far there is
fairly plain sailing, but the ensuing Lines 7, 8,

constitute a real crux :

1
And rather make them born(e) to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told '
:

'

Assuming these lines to refer to '

what Time '
foists upon us,'

the second implies that we ought to recognise the old things

foisted upon us by Time for objects previously known, but that
we 'prefer to regard them as really new' as just 'born'
'

(Tyler), and e
specially created for our satisfaction (Dowden).
The explanation not satisfactory, though probably the best
is

to be got from the assumed reference.

But(l) this reference
'
of '
them to ' '
what,' followed by a singular that is,' can hardly
be sustained grammatically, and (2) it scarce makes sense.
Shakespeare cannot have intended that we admire things for
their age while we regard them as really new.' I suggest that
 INTRODUCTION cxxix
the plural 'them' refers grammatically to the plural dates/ '

'
and that the word usually printed ' born 1 in line 7, had best be
printed 'borne' as it is in the Quarto (
'
bourn'}.
2 = We make
e
our brief dates into a bourn or limit to our desire (cf. confined

doom/ cvn. 4) instead of recollecting that '

we have heard them
told' (=reckoned) 'before.' There is but a colon in the Quarto
after Line 8. And the third Quatrain continues to discuss dates

(
= registers, Line 9, and records, Line 11). In Line 11 Shake

speare denies the absolute truth both of Time's records and the
witness of our senses :

'
For thy records and what we see doth lie.'

The sonnet, in fact, does but develop the attack of the one
before it (cxxn.), in which he declares that the memory of his

Friend's gift 'shall remain beyond all date even to Eternity; that
' '
such a ( record is better than the ' poor retention of tablets ;
and that he needs no '
"tallies" to "score" his dear love.'
'
In cxxiv. Line 1 : If my dear love were but the child of
' '
'
State State may contain a secondary allusion (as so often
:

with Shakespeare) to the dignity of the person addressed ; but

its primary meaning, continuing the sense of the
preceding
'

sonnet, and Indeed of the numbers from '

all c., is condition
'
Interchange of state and state itself
'
or circumstance.' (Cf.
confounded to decay/ LXIV. ; and 'Love's great case' in cvm.).
If his Love were the child of circumstance it might be dis

inherited by any chance result of Fortune; but on the

contrary, 'itwas builded far from accident.' And 'accident,'
'
'
as were case and '
State,' is also a term of metaphysic : his
Love belongs to the absolute and unconditioned, to Eternity
and not to Time. In developing the idea of mutations in

1
Printed so first by Gildon, and accepted by subsequent editors.
2
Borne (French), and in Hamlet, Folio 1623 and Quarto.
cxxx INTRODUCTION
fortune, Shakespeare glances aside at some contemporary
reverse in politics or art which we cannot decipher. It may

have been the closing of the Theatres, the censorship of

Plays, the imprisonment
of Southampton or of Herbert. No
one can tell, nor does it matter, for the main meaning is
clear namely, that this absolute Love is outside the world of
:

politics, which
are limited by Time, and count on leases of
shortnumbered hours but in itself is ' hugely politic/
;
is an

independent and self-sufficing State. In the couplet :

'
To this I witness, call the fools of time
Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime
'
:

some find an allusion to the merited execution of Essex,

popularly called 'the good Earl/ But the probability is

that Shakespeare sympathised with Essex and those of the
old nobility who were jealous of the Crown. And, again,
it is simpler to take the lines as a fitting close to the

metaphysical disquisition, and to see in them a rebuke of

those who are so much the slaves of Time and its dates as
to imagine that a moment of repentance cancels the essential

iniquity of their lives.

cxxv. is even more obscure. Yet the sense, to my mind,

again seems clearer we
dismiss the theory that Shakespeare
if

is here dwelling exclusively on the dignity of the person he

addresses. Most of the sonnets, in the First Series, handle
the themes of an Ideal Beauty incarnate in a mortal body,

yet saved from decay by the immortality which verse confers ;

of theneed that such verse should truly express the Truth and
Beauty of its object and of Love and Constancy which tran
;

scend the limitations of Time. Since cxxv. comes at the end

of the peroration to the last
twenty-six Sonnets, which are all
retrospective, and immediately before the Envoy, it seems to
me only reasonable to read it in the light of its immediate
 INTRODUCTION cxxxi
predecessors and of the principal themes recurring throughout
the whole Series.
The search for direct allusions to life in the Sonnets distracts

us from the truth, that the selection of their themes was based
quite as much upon
current philosophy and artistic tradition as

upon any actual experience. Something of all is involved, and

we should lose sight of none. The poetry of Europe was steeped
'
in Platonism, and, since the Trionf of Petrarch, the Triumph
'
of Time and his ultimate defeat had been a common theme in

many forms of art, especially in the Tapestries of Arras intro

duced into great English houses during the Sixteenth Century :

'
The wals were round about apparelle'd
With costly cloths of Arras and of Toure.'
Faerie Queen, in. i. 34.

Shakespeare wrote out of his own experience, but also under

these influences of contemporary Art and Philosophy. And
here, pursuing the earlier themes, he asks if it were ought to
him, holding his views, to worship the outward show of Beauty
with external homage, or, as I interpret Lines 3, 4, to win

eternity by the mere form of his verse. This interpretation

of 3-4 is borne out by the second quatrain. We have in
it, as I submit, a recurrence to his attacks on the styles of
'
'
poetry which he deprecated in the false painting of LXVII. ;
' '
' '
the false art of LXVIII. ; the compounds strange of LXXVI. ;
' '
the ( strained touches of rhetoric and ' gross painting of
'
LXXXII. ; the
'
comments of praise richly compiled of LXXXV.
'
These are the *
compounds sweet of Line 7, for which dwellers
on form and favour pay too much rent. 'That you are you'
(LXXXIV.) is all that needs to be said, for (LXXXIII.) :

'
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
Than both your poets can in praise devise.'
Therefore he tenders his '
oblation poor but free, Which is not
mixed with seconds.'
cxxxii INTRODUCTION
'

That last word '

seconds has been a stumbling-block for
more than a century, thanks to Steevens. His note runs
I am just informed an old lady that seconds is
'
thus : by
a provincial term for the second kind of flour, which is col
lected after the smaller bran is sifted. That our author's
oblation was pure, unmixed with baser matter, is all that he meant
to say.' But may not seconds mean ' assistants' and refer to
the collaboration of the Two Poets in LXXXIII. ? It can hardly
'
mean e
baser matter ;
since the contrast is between an offering

humble, poor, and without art, and some other offering pre

sumably rich and artificial, such as the verse of the Rival Poets
criticised in the group concerned with their efforts. As for
Line 1 3,
'
Hence thou suborned Informer,' I have argued else
where x that the words in italics with capitals are not accidents

of printing. This word of violent apostrophe refers to some

person whose identity was obvious to the object of Shake

speare's verse, and if, as I have tried to show, these Sonnets
may be compared
'
belong to one sequence, it to the frailer

spies' of cxxi.

XVII

IMAGERY. These poetic themes are figured and displayed

throughout the Sonnets by means of an Imagery which, as in
Venus and Lucrece, is often so vividly seized and so minutely

presented as to engross attention to the prejudice of the theme.

Indeed, at some times the poet himself seems rather the quarry
than the pursuer of his own images as it were a magician
hounded by spirits of his summoning. Conceits were a fashion,
and Shakespeare sometimes followed the fashion ; but this
characteristic of his lyrical verse
is rather a
passive consequence
of such obsession than the result of
any deliberate pursuit of an

1
Note on typography of the Quarto (1609).
 INTRODUCTION cxxxiii
'
'
image until it become a conceit. Put his for '
her,' and, in
Lucrece he, himself, describes the process :

'
Much like a press of people at a door,
'

Throng his inventions which shall go before.

The retina of his mind's eye, like a child's, or that of a man

feverish from the excitement of some high day, is as it were a
shadow-sheet, on which images received long since revive and
grow to the very act and radiancy of life. A true poet, it is
remains a child, but especially in this, that his
tritely said, ever
vision is The glass of the windows through
never dulled.
which he looks out on the world is never ground of set purpose
that his mind may the better attend to business within. And
to a poet, as to a child, the primal processes of the earth never
lose theirwonder. So the most of Shakespeare's images are
taken from Nature, and then are painted but the word is too
gross to convey the clarity of his art in so transparent an
atmosphere as to seem still a part of Nature, showing her uses
of perpetual change. In the Sonnets we watch the ceaseless
Passing of the Year :

'
civ. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summers' pride ;

Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd ;

In process of the seasons have I seen,

'

Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd. . . .

'
v. Sap check'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone. ..."
(
xii. . . .
lofty trees . barren of leaves
. .

'

Which erst from heat did canopy the herd. . . .

'
xin. . . . the stormy gusts of winter's day
And barren rage of death's eternal cold. . . .'

LXXIII.
(
That time of year thou may'st 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' :
cxxxiv INTRODUCTION
or, in a narrower cycle we
follow the Decline of Day :

xxxiu. '
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 alchymy ;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,
And from
the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace. . .

LXXIII.
'
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west ;
Which by and by black night doth take away
Death's second self, that seals up all the rest.'

Taine insists, perhaps too exclusively, on the vivid imagery

of Shakespeare's verse ; Minto and Mrs. Meynell, perhaps
too exclusively, on the magic of sound and association which

springs from his unexpected collocation of words till then

unmated. The truth seems to lie in a fusion of the two
theories. When Shakespeare takes his images from Nature,
the first excellence is predominant ; the second, when he takes
them from the occupations of men.
Often, in the Sonnets, he illustrates his theme with images
from Inheritance^ or Usury, 2 or the Law ;
B
and then his effects

1 '
I. 'tender heir.' n. by succession.' iv. 'legacy'; 'bequest.'
2
iv. 'usurer.' vi. 'usury'; 'loan.' xxxi. 'tears' are 'interest of the
dead.'
3
xm. lease ; determination, xvni. lease ; date. xxx. sessions ; sum
mon. XLVI. defendant's plea ; title ; impannelled ; quest ; tenants ; verdict.
XLIX. 'And this my hand
against myself uprear,' viz., in taking an oath.
LXXIV. arrest ; LXXXVII. charter bonds ; determinate ; patent ; mis-
trial. ;

prision ; judgment. CXX. fee ; ransoms, cxxvi. audit ; quietus, a technical

'

term for the acquittance which every Sheriff (or accountant) receives on sell
ing his account, at the Exchequer.' The frequency of these terms in the Sonnets
and Plays led Malone to conclude that Shakespeare must at one time have
been an attorney. If so, we may the better believe that Ben Jonson intended
Ovid for Shakespeare in The Poetaster, i. I Poetry Ovid, whom I :
'
!

'
thought to see the pleader, became Ovid the play-maker Ibid, Misprize ! !
'

ay. marry, I would have him use such words now. ... He should make him
self a style out of these. ' And passim.
 INTRODUCTION cxxxv
are rather produced by the successful impressment of technical
terms to the service of poetry than by the recollections they
revive of legal processes :

'
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past.'

Among such occupations he draws also upon Journeys (L.) ;

Navigation (LXXX., LXXXVI., cxvi.) :

'
O, no it is an ever-fixed mark (sea-mark)
!

That looks on tempests and is never shaken ;

'
It is the star to every wandering bark :

Husbandry (in.) ; Medicine (cxvm.) ; Sieges (n.) : r

{
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
'
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field :

and a Courtier's Career (vn., cxiv.) :

(
xxxui. Full many a glorious morning have J seen
'

Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye. . . .

'
xxv. Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
'
But as the marygold at the sun's eye :

and was of a more striking application than now in the

this last

days of Elizabeth or James. He draws also on the arts of

Painting (frequently), of Music (vm., cxxvm.), of the Stage
(xxm.) ; on the Dark Sciences :

xv. 'Whereon the stars in secret influence comment.'

(
cvn. The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured,
And the sad augurs mock their own presage '

l
xiv. Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck,
'
And yet, methinks, I have Astronomy (Astrology) :

'
so prognosticating from his friend's '
eyes ; on Alchemy (xxxm.),
and Distillation (vi., LIV.) :

'
v. Then were not summer's distillation left
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass. . . .
'

k
 cxxxvi INTRODUCTION
cxix.
'
What potions have I drunk of Syren tears
Distill'd from lymbecks (alembics) foul as hell within.'

When, as in these examples, he takes his illustrations from

professions and occupations, or from arts and sciences, his magic,
no doubt, is mainly verbal but ; it springs from immediate

perception (as in the case of annual and diurnal changes),

when images are taken from subtler effects of sensuous
his

appreciation, be it of Shadows ; of the Transparency of Windows

(in., XXIV.); of Reflections in Mirrors (in., xxn., LXII., LXXVII.,

cm.), or of Hallucinations in the Dark :

'
xxvn. Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents their shaddow to my sightless view,
Which, like a Jewell hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous. .' . .

XLIII.
'
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
'

Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay !

'
LXI. Is it thy will thy image should keep open
'

My heavy eyelids to the weary night ?

And this source of his magic is evident also, when, as frequently,

he makes use of Jewels (xxvn., xxxiv., XLVIII., LII., LXV., xcvi.);
Apparel (11., xxvi., LXXVI.) ; the Rose (i., xxxv., LIV., LXVII., xcv.,
xcix., cix.); the Grave (i., iv., vi., xvii., xxxi., xxxn., LXXL,
LXXII., LXXVII., LXXXI.) ; Sepulchral Monuments (LV., LXXXI.,
cvn.) ; the Alternation
of Sunshine
(xxxm., with Showers
xxxiv.) ; the Singing of Birds (xxix.), and their Silence (xcvii.,
en.). Realism is the note of these imaginative perceptions, as it
is when he writes :

(
xxxiv. 'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face. .' . .

'
xxin. As an imperfect actor on the Stage,
Who with his fear is put beside his part. . . .'

'
L. The beast that bears me, tired with my woe
Plods dully on. . . .'
 INTRODUCTION cxxxvii
LX.
f
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore. . . .'

LXXIII.
'
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
'

Upon those boughs :

when he instances the 'Dyer's Hand' (cxi.) and the 'crow that
heavens sweeiest air' (LXX.) a clue to carrion or when
flies in
he captures a vivid scene of nursery comedy :

'
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 despatch
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay ;
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent
To follow that which flies before her face,
Not prizing her fair infant's discontent.'

In all such passages the magic springs from imaginative

observation rather than from unexpected verbal collocutions.

And, while this observation is no less keen, the rendering of

it no less faithful, than in the earlier Lyrical Poems, Conceits,

though still to be found, are fewer e.g.,

of the Eye and Heart
:

(xxiv., XLVI. XLVII) ; Of the Four Elements earth, air, fire, water

(XLIV., XLV.) ;
and of the taster to a King (cxiv.).

XVIII

ELOQUENT DISCOURSE. On the other hand the ELOQUENT DIS

COURSE of the earlier Poems becomes the staple of the Sonnets
and their highest excellence. It is for this that we chiefly read
them :

xxxvi. '
Letme confess that we two must be twain
Although our undivided loves are one. .

'
XL. Take all my loves, mylove, yea, take them all ;
'
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before ? . . .

cxxxix. '
O call me not to justify the wrong
That thy unkinduess lays upon my heart. . . .'
cxxxviii INTRODUCTION
'
CXL. Be do not press
wise as thou art cruel
;

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,
Though not to love, yet, love to tell me so. ...
For if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee.'

The last,addressed to the Dark Lady, are, it may be, as elo

quent as any addressed to the Youth, but they lack something

of those others' silvery sadness :

LXXI.
'
No longer mourn for me when I am dead,
Than you shall hear the surly sullen hell,
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell :

Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that wrote it for I love you so,
;

That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,

If thinking of me then should make you woe.

O, if, I say, you look upon this verse

When perhaps compounded am with clay,
I

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,
My name be buried where my body is,
And live no more to shame nor me nor you.
For I am sham'd by that which I bring forth,
'
And so should you, to love things nothing worth.
 INTRODUCTION cxxxix
xc.
'
Then hate me when thou wilt ;
if ever, now ;

Now while the world deeds to cross,

is bent my
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 scap'd this sorrow,

!

Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe ;

Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purpos'd overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite ;

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,
Compar'd with loss of thee will not seem so.'

XIX

VERBAL MELODY. The theme of xc. is a sorrow which has,

I suppose, been suffered, at one time or another, by most
.'

men it is hackneyed as dying. Yet the eloquence is peer

:

less. I if in all recorded speech such faultless perfec

doubt
tion may be found, so sustained through fourteen consecutive
lines. That perfection does not arise from any thought in
the piece itself, for none is abstruse ; nor from its sentiment,
which is common to all who love, and suffer or fear a diminu
tion in their love's return; nor even from
imagery, though its

the line, 'Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,' holds its
own against Keats's ' There is a budding morrow in midnight,'
which Rossetti once chose for the best in English poetry. It
arises from perfect verbal execution : from diction, rhythm, and
the just incidence of accentual stresses enforced by assonance
and alliteration. The charm of Shakespeare's verbal surprises
* '
e.g., a lass unparalleled,' multitudinous seas,' instanced by
Mrs. Meynell once noted, is readily recognised, but much of
his Verbal Melody defies analysis. Yet some of it, reminding
cxl INTRODUCTION
you of Chaucer's
'
divine liquidness of diction, his divine fluidity
'
l
of movement :

{
Feel I no wind that souneth so like peyne
" '
It seith "Alas !
why twinned be we twe^ne :

or of Surrey :

'
The goldengift that nature did thee geve
To/asten/rendes, and/ede them at thy will
With form and favour, taught me to bele've
How thou art made to shew her greatest skill :

may be explained by that absolute mastery he had over the

rhythmical use of our English accent. Mr. Coventry Patmore

'
has justly observed 2 that e the early poetical critics notably
Sidney and Daniel 'commonly manifest a much clearer dis
cernment of the main importance of rhyme and accentual stress,

in English verse, than is to be found among later writers.' And

this because, as he goes on to say,
the true spirit of English '

verse appears in its highest excellence in the writings of the

poets of Elizabeth and James.' If we neglect Quantity,

that is to say the duration of syllables, whose sum makes

up an equal duration for each line and we must neglect

it, for, except in the classical age of Greece, and of Rome in
imitation of Greece, no language observes so constant a

quantity for its syllables as to afford a governing element in

verse we find in English verse Rhyme and Accentual Stress
or Ictus. Now, Rhyme, but falteringly nascent in Folk-song
before his day, was fully acclimatised by Chaucer from French,
which has no emphatic accents, at a time when French was the
natural tongue of the cultured in England. In a language
without emphatic accents, or exact quantity, Rhyme was, and

Rhyme is, a necessity to mark off and enforce the only con
stant element, viz., Metre or the number of
syllables in each
line. But in the homely and corrupt English of Chaucer's
1
Matthew Arnold.
'
2
Essay on English Metrical Law.
 INTRODUCTION cxli

day, and side by side with the Court poetry, another poetry
persisted, which was based exclusively upon the accentual
stresses natural to northern languages. And it persisted down
even to Shakespeare's day. We find so curious and artful a

metrist as Dunbar pursuing both traditions Chaucer's rhymed

:

'staff of seven' and the unrhymed, alliterative verse of Piers

Plowman. Dimbar died, c. 1513 (as some think, at Flodden).
But after his voice was silenced we have a contemporary poem
on the battle Scottish Field 1
:

There was girding forth of guns, with many great stones ;

Archers uttered out their arrows and eagerly they shotten ;

They proched us with spears and put many over ;
That the blood outbrast at their broken harness.
There was swinging out of swords, and swapping of heads,
We blanked them with bills through all their bright armour,
That all the dale dinned of the derf strokes :

and editions of Piers Plowman were published in 1551 and 1561,

showing a continuous appreciation of our indigenous but archaic
mode. In that mode the major accents fall on syllables either
consonantal or of cognate sound. This was no device of mere
artifice the impassioned speech of any Englishman becomes
:

charged with stresses so heavy as to demand syllables of

kindred sound on to which they may fall, and the demand is
met unconsciously, since otherwise the weight of the accent
would interrupt and shatter the flow of discourse. The heavy
beat at the end of a French line and the heavy accents in an

English line must be met and supported in the first case by

Rhyme, in the second, by syllables similarly produced. Shake
speare, in the Sonnets, whilst revelling in the joy of Rhyme,
handed down from the French origin of English verse and con
firmed by the imitation of Italian models, also turned the other

1
Cited by Ker with the reference Ed. Robson, Chetham Society, 1855,
:

from the Lyme MS. ; ed. Furnivall and Hales, Percy Folio Manuscript, 1867.
cxlii INTRODUCTION
and indigenous feature of English verse to the best conceivable
lets the accent fall so
advantage. No other English poet
justly in accord
with the melody of his rhythm and the em
of his speech, or meets it with a greater variety of
phasis
subtly affiliated sounds.
This may be illustrated from any one of the more melodious
and, therefore, the more characteristic Sonnets. Take the
First :

1. From/airest Creatures we desire increase

2. That thereby beauty's .Rose might never Die
3. But as the /fc'per should by Time decease
4. His tender heir might bear his memory.
5. But thou contacted to thine own bright eyes
6. -Feed'stthy light's /lame with se/^substantial/uel
7. Making a/amine where a&undance lies,
8. Thyself thy/oe to thy sweet self too cruel
9. ThoM that art now the world's fresh ornament
10. And only herald to the gaudy spring
11. Within thine own bud buriest thy content
12. And tender churl mak'st waste in m'ggarding
13. Pity the world or else this Button be
14. To eat the world's due by the grave and thee :

and you observe (1) the use of kindred sounds, of alliteration or

of assonance or of both, to mark the principal stresses in any
one line :
E.g., Line 1, Creatures and increase, where both are
used Line 3, Jfftper and Time Line 4, heir and bear Line 5,
; ; ;

contracted and bright Line 9, Thou and now

; and (2), and this :

is most characteristic, the juxtaposition of assonantal sounds

where two syllables consecutive, but in separate words, are ac
cented with a marked pause between them E.g., Line 5, bright
:

eyes; Line 8, too cruel ; Line 11, bud bwriest Line 12, ma&'st ;

waste. Mr. Patmore points out 1 that ' ordinary English phrases
exhibit a great preponderance of emphatic and unemphatic syl-

1
Essay on English Metrical Law.
 INTRODUCTION cxliii

and our eighteenth century poets,

lables in consecutive couples/
absorbed in Metre and negligent of varied Rhythm, traded on
this feature of our tongue to produce a number of dull iambic

lines by the use of their banal trochaic epithets, 'balmy/

mazy/ and the rest. Shakespeare constantly varies his Rhythm
'

in the Sonnets, and frequently by this bringing of two accented

syllables together, with a pause between. But, when he does

so, he ensures a correct delivery by affiliating the two syllables
in sound, and prefixing to the first a delaying word which pre
'

cludes any scamping of the next ensuing accent E.g. own

'
:

' ' '

' ' ' '
before bright eyes ; self before too cruel ; churl before
' '
' '
'
mak'st waste.' Cf. Earth before sings hymns in xxix.

12; and xv. 8,

'
and wear their brave state out of memory/
It is by this combination of Accent with Rhyme that Shake

speare links the lines of each quatrain in his Sonnets into one
perfect measure. If you except two 'Let me not to the
marriage of true minds,' and The expense of spirit in a waste
'

of shame' you find that he does not, as Milton did afterwards,

buildup his sonnet, line upon line, into one monumental
whole he writes three lyrical quatrains, with a pronounced
:

pause after the second and a couplet after the third.

Taking the First Sonnet once more, you observe (3) The
binding together of the lines in each quatrain by passing on
a kindred sound from the last, or most important, accent in
one line to the first, or most important, in the next: E.g.
from 2 to from Die to .Riper by assonance ; from 3 to 4-, from
3,
Time to Tender by alliteration; from 6 to 7, from .Fuel to
Famine; from 7 to 8, from Famine lies to
Thyself . . . . . .

jFoe; from 9 to 10, from Ornament to Herald; from 11 to 12,

from content to tender; from 13 to 14, from be to eat. Cf. LX.

lines 6, 7 :

'
Crawls to maturity wherewith being crown d
CVooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight.'
cxliv INTRODUCTION
and cvin. 9, 10:

'
So that eternal love in love's fresh case

Weighs not the dust.'

In a Petrarchan sonnet any such assonance, if it embraced the

rhyme, would prove a blemish, but in the Shakespearian

quatorzain it is a pleasant and legitimate accessory to the
general binding together of the quatrain. Most subtle of all
is the pent-up emphasis brought to bear on Rose in i. 2 a word
not easily stressed by the frequency of R's in the first line and
their absence till Rose is reached in the second. (4) For a
further binding together of the quatrain the Rhyme, or last

syllable, though not accented,

often tied by assonance to is

the first syllable, though not accented, of the next line :

E.g. i. lines 3, 4, decease Hi*; lines 7, 8, lies thyself; lines

10, 11, Spring within, lines 12, 13, niggardmg Pity. Shake
speare's effects of alliteration, apart from this use of them for
the binding together of the quatrain, are at some times of

astonishing strength :

LXV. 7, 8.
'
When rocks impregnable are not so stout
'
Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays :

and at others of a strange sweetness :

'
ix. 5. The world will be thy widow and still weep.'

Again, at others he uses the device antithetically in dis

course :

(
xxxix. 10. Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave
'
:

and his rhythm is at all times infinitely varied :

'
xix. 14. My love shall in my verse ever live long. . . .'

'
xxxin. 7. And from the forlorn world his visage hide. . . .'

e
LXXXVI. 4.
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew. . . .'

'
xi. 10. Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish.'
 INTRODUCTION cxlv
Apart from else, allthe sheer beauty of diction in
it is

Shakespeare's Sonnets which has endeared them to poets.

The passages, which I have quoted to other ends, must abund
antly have proved this. Yet let me add these :

v. 5, 6.
'
For never-resting time leads summer on
'
To hideous winter, and confounds him there.
'
xvu. 7-12. 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,
Bescorn' d, like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage,
And stretche'd metre of an antique song.'
'
xvni. 1-4. Shall compare thee to a summer's day ?
I

Thou more lovely and more temperate

art :

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May

And summer's lease hath all too short a date.'
'
XLVIII. 10, 11. Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art
Within the gentle closure of my breast.'

(
LIV. 5, 6. The canker-blooms have all as deep a die
As the perfumed tincture of the roses.'

'
LX. 9, 10. Time doth transfix the nourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow/

LXIV. 5, 6.
'
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain

Advantage on the kingdom of the shore.'

f
LXV. 1-4. Since brass, nor stone, nor earth nor boundless sea,
,

But sad mortality o'ersways their power,

How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
'
Whose action is no stronger than a flower ?

'
LXXXIX. 8. I will acquaintance strangle, and look strange.'

'
xciv. 9, 10. The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die.'
cxlvi INTRODUCTION
xcvii. 1-4.
'
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 everywhere.'

And thou away, the very birds are mute

'
xcvii. 12-14. :

Or, they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer,

if

That leaves look pale, dreading the winter 's near.

'
xcvui. 9, 10. Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose.'
'
cv. 1. Let not my love be call'd idolatry.'

cxxxn. 5, 6.
'
And truly not the morning sun in heaven
Better becomes the gray cheeks of the East.'
e
CXLII. 5, 6. Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments.'
'
CXLVI. 13, 14. So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,
And death once dead, there's no more dying then.'

xx

It may have painted

matters nothing to Art that Titian
his Venus from the Medici's wifeAntinous gave the world a
:

Type of Beauty to be gazed at without a thought of Hadrian.

But the case is not altered when the man who rejoices or
suffers is also the man who labours and achieves. It matters

nothing to Art that Luca Signorelli painted the corpse of

his beloved son, and it is an open question if Dante loved

indeed a living Beatrice. Works of perfect Art are the tombs

lay to rest the passions they would fain make

in which artists

immortal. The more perfect their execution, the longer does

the sepulchre endure, the sooner does the passion perish.

Only where the hand has faltered do ghosts of love and

anguish still complain. In the most of his Sonnets Shake
speare's hand does not falter. The wonder of them lies in
 INTRODUCTION cxlvii
the art of his poetry, not in the accidents of his life and, ;

within that art, not so much in his choice of poetic themes

as in the wealth of his IMAGERY, which grows and shines and

changes : above all, in the perfect execution of his VERBAL

MELODY. That is the body of which his IMAGERY is the soul,
and the two make one creation so beautiful that we are not
concerned with anything but its beauty. G. W.

P.S. Let me here acknowledge my great debt to Mr. W. E.

Henley for his constant help in the preparation of this Edition.
But for his persuasion I should never have attempted a task which,
but for his encouragement, I could never have accomplished.

m
VENUS AND ADONIS
'
Vilia miretur vulgus ; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'
 TO THE

RIGHT HONORABLE HENRE WRIOTHESLEY,

EARLE OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TITCHFIELD.

RIGHT HONOURABLE, I know not how I shall offend in dedi

cating unpolisht lines to your Lordship, nor how the worlde
my
will censure mee for choosing so strong a proppe to support so
weak a burthen onelye, if your Honour seeme but pleased, I
:

account my highly praised, and vowe to take aduantage of

selfe
all idle houres, till I have honoured you with some grauer labour.

But if the first heire of my inuention proue deformed, I shall be

sorie it had so noble a god-father, arid neuer after eare so barren a

land, for feare it yeeld me still so bad a haruest. I leaue it to

your Honourable suruey, and your Honor to your heart's con

tent which I wish may always answere your owrie wish and the
;

world's hopefull expectation. Your Honor's in all dutie,

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
 VENUS AND ADONIS

EVEN as the sun with purple-colour' d face

Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chace ;

Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn ; 4

Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,

And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.
n
'
Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began, 7
'
The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain toall Nymphs, more lovely than a man,

More white and red than doves or roses are ; 10

Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.

in

Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,

'
13
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 : 16
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I '11 smother thee with kisses :

IV
1
And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety, 19
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red, and pale, with fresh variety ;

Ten kisses short PS one, one. long as

twenty : 22
A summer's da raliiil seem an hour but short,
Being wasted -il such time-beguiling sport.'
4 VENUS AND ADONIS
V
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm, 25
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve, to do a goddess good : 28

Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force

Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
VI

Over one arm the lusty courser's rein, 31

Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd, and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy ; 34
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.

VII

The studded on a ragged bough

bridle 37

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.

VIII

So soon was she along as he was down, 43

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 ; 46
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
f
If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open/

IX

He burns with bashful shame, she with her tears 49

Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks ;
Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs
To and blow them dry again sjhe seeks
fan, :
52
He saith she
is immodest, hi'
yS
her miss ;

What follows more she murdei with a kiss.

 VENUS AND ADONIS 5
X
Even an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
as 55
Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone,

Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,

gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone
Till either ; 58
Even so she kiss'd his brow, his cheek, his chin,
And where she ends she doth anew begin.

XI

Forced to content, but never to obey, 61

Panting he lies and breatheth in her face ;

She feedeth on the steam as on a prey,

And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace ; 64

Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers,

So they were dew'd with such distilling showers.

XII

Look, how a bird lies tangled in a net, 67

So fast'ned in her arms Adonis lies ;

Pure shame and aw'd 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.

pin /

Stillshe entreats, and prettily entreats, 73

For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale ;
he lours and frets,
Still is he_sullen, still

Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale ; 76

Being red, she loves him best and being white,

;

Her best is better' d with a more delight.

XIV
Look how he can, she cannot choose but love ; 79
And by herimmortal hand she swears,
fair
From his soft bosom never to remove,
Till he take truce with her contending tears, 82
Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all wet ;
And one sweet kiss shall pay this comptless debt.
6 VENUS AND ADONIS
XV

Upon promise did he raise his chin,

this , 85

Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave,

Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in ;

So he to give what she did crave ;

offers 88

But when her lips were ready for his pay,

He winks, and turns his lips another way.
XVI

Never did passenger summer's heat in 91

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 : 94

' '
O, pity,' 'gan she cry, flint-hearted boy !

Tis but a kiss I beg ; why art thou coy ?

XVII
'
I entreat thee now,
have been woo'd, as I 97
Even by the stern and direful god of war,
Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow,
Who conquers where he comes in every jar ;
100

Yet hath he been my captive and my slave,

And begg'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have.
XVIII
'
Over my Altars hath he hung his lance, 103
His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest,
And for my sake hath learn' d to sport and dance,
To wanton, dally, smile and jest,
toy, to 106

Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red,

Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.
XIX
'
Thus he that overruled I overswayed, 109

Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain :

Strong-temper' d steel his stronger strength obeyed,

Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. 112

O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,

For mast' ring her that foil'd the god of fight !
 VENUS AND ADONIS 7
XX
1
Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine, 115
Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red
The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine :

What seest thou in the ground ? hold up thy head : n

Look in mine eye-balls, there thy beauty lies ;

Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes ?

'
Art thou ashamed to kiss ? then wink again, 121
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 :

124
These blue-vein' d violets whereon we lean,
Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.
XXII

'The tender spring upon thy tempting lip 127

Shows thee unripe yet mayst thou well be tasted
; :

Make use of time, let not advantage slip ;

Beauty within itself should not be wasted :

130
Fair flowers that are not gather' d in their prime
Rot and consume themselves in little time.

XXIII
'
Were I hard-fa vour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, 133
Ill-nurtured, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice,
O'erworn, despised, rheumatic and cold,
Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice, 136
Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee ;

But having no defects, why dost abhor me ?

XXIV
(
Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow ; 139
Mine eyes are grey and bright and quick in turning ;

My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow,

My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning ; 142
My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt,
Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt.
8 VENUS AND ADONIS
XXV
'
Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, 145

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 :
148
Love is a spirit all compact of fire,
Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.

XXVI
'
Witness this Primrose bank whereon I lie ; 151
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 :
154
sweet boy, and may it be
Is love so light,
That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee ?

xxvn
'
Is thine own heart to thine own face affected ? 157
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.
XXVIII
'Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, 163
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 166 :

Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breedeth beauty ;

Thou wast begot ; to get it is thy duty.

XXIX
'
Upon the earth's increase
why shouldst thou feed, 169
Unless the earth with thy increase be fed ?
By law of nature thou art bound to breed,
That thine may live when thou thyself art dead ; 172
And of death, thou dost survive,
so, in spite
In that thy likeness still is left alive.'
 VENUS AND ADONIS 9
XXX
By this the love-sick to sweat,
Queen began 175
For where they the shadow had forsook them,
lay,
And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat,
With burning eye did hotly overlook them ; 178

Wishing Adonis had his team to guide,

So he were like him and by Venus' side.
XXXI
And now Adonis, with a lazy spright, 181

And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,

His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight,
Like misty vapours when they blot the sky, 184

Souring his cheeks, cries Fie, no more of love

'
!

The sun doth burn my face I must remove/ ;

XXXII
'
Ay me,' quoth Venus, young, and so unkind ?
'
187
What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone !

I '11 sigh celestial breath, whose

gentle wind
Shall cool the heat of this descending sun : 190
I '11 make a shadow for thee of my hairs ;

If they burn too, I '11

quench them with my tears.

XXXIII
'
The sun that shines from heaven, shines but warm, 193
And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee :

The heat I have from thence dothharm, little

Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me ; 196

And were I not immortal, life were done
Between this heavenly and earthly sun.
xxxiv
'
Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel ? 199

Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth :

Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel

What 'tis to love ? how want of love tormenteth ? 202

O, had thy mother borne so hard a mind,

She had not brought forth thee, but died unkinn'd.
10 VENUS AND ADONIS
XXXV
'
What am I, that thou shouldst contemn me this ? 205
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

;
: 208
Give me one kiss, I '11 give it thee again,
And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain.

xxxvi
'
Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone, 211

Well-painted idol, image dull and dead,

Statue contenting but the eye alone,
Thing like a man, but of no woman bred !
214
Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion,
For men will kiss even by their own direction.'

XXXVII
This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, 217
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.

XXXVIII
Sometime she shakes her head, and then his hand, 223
Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground ;

Sometime her arms infold him like a band :

She would, he will not in her arms be bound ;

226
And when from thence he struggles to be gone,
She locks her lily fingers one in one.
xxxix

Fondling, she saith, Since I have hemm'd thee here 229

Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
I '11 be a park, and thou shalt be
my deer ;

Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale :

232
Graze on my lips and if those hills be dry,
;

Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

 VENUS AND ADONIS 11
XL
'
Within this limit is relief enough, 235
Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain,
Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough,
To shelter thee from tempest and from rain :
238
Then be my deer, since I am such a park :

No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.

XLI

At Adonis smiles as in disdain,

this 241
That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple ;

Love made those hollows, if himself were slain,

He might be buried in a tomb so simple ; 244

Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,

Why, there Love lived and there he could not die.

XLII

These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits, 247

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 !

XLIII

Now which way shall she turn ? what shall she say ? 253
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 :
256
'
'
Pity,' she '
some favour, some remorse
cries, !

Away he springs and hasteth to his horse.

XLIV

But,from forth a copse that neighbours by,

lo, 259
A breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud,
Adonis' trampling courser doth espy,
And and neighs aloud
forth she rushes, snorts : 262
The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree,
Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he.
12 VENUS AND ADONIS
XLV

Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, 265

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 ; 268

The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth,

Controlling what he was controlled with.
XLVI
His ears up-prick'd ; his braided hanging mane 271

Upon his compass' d crest now stand on end ;

His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,

As from a furnace, vapours doth he send :
274
His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,
Shows his hot courage and his high desire.
XLV1I
Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps, 277
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.'
XLVIII

What recketh he his rider's angry stir, 283

'
His flattering < Holla,' or his ' Stand, I say ?
What cares he now for curb or pricking spur ?

For rich caparisons or trappings gay ? 286

He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,
For nothing else with his proud sight agrees.

XLIX
Look, when a Painter would surpass the life, 289
In limning out a well-proportion' d steed,
His Art with Nature's workmanship at strife,
As if the dead the living should exceed ; 292
So did this horse excel a common one
In shape, in courage, colour, pace, and bone.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 13
L

Round-hoof d, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, 295

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 298 :

Look, what a horse should have he did not lack,

Save a proud rider on so proud a back.

LI

Sometime he scuds far off and there he stares ; 301

Anon he starts at stirring of a feather ;

To bid the wind a base he now prepares,

And whe'r he run or fly they know not whether ; 304
For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,
Fanning the hairs, who wave like feath'red wings.
LII .

He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her ; 307

She answers him as if she knew his mind :

Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,

She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind, 310
Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels,
Beating his kind embracements with her heels.
LIII

Then, like a melancholy malcontent, 313

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. 316

His love, perceiving how he is enraged,
Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged.
LIV
His testy master goeth about to take him ; 319
When, lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear,
Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him,
With her the horse, and left Adonis there :
322
As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them,
Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them.
14 VENUS AND ADONIS
LV
All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits, 325

Banning and
his boist'rous unruly beast :

And now the happy season once more fits,

That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest ; 328
For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.

LVI

An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd, 331

Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage :

So of concealed sorrow may be said ;

Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage ; 334

But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.

LVII

He sees her coming, and begins to glow :

337
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.

LVIII

O, what a sight it was, wistly to view 343

How she came stealing to the wayward boy !

To note the fighting conflict of her hue,

How white and red each other did destroy !
346
But now her cheek was pale, and by and by
It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky.

LIX

Now was she just before him as he sat, 349

And like a lowly lover down she kneels ;

With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat,

Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels :
352
His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand's print,
As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 15
LX

O, what a war of looks was then between them !

355
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 :
358
And all this dumb play had his acts made plain
With tears, which, Chorus-like, her eyes did rain.
LXI
Full gently nowshe 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 :

364
This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
Show'd like two silver doves that sit a-billing.
LXII

Once more the engine of her thoughts began :

367
'
O fairest mover on this mortal round,
Would thou wert as I am, and I a man,

My heart whole as thine, thy heart my wound

all 370 ;

For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee,

Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee.'
LXIII
e
Give me my hand,' saith he,
'
why dost thou feel it ?
'

373
'
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 :
376
Then deep groans I never shall regard,
love's
Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.'

LXIV
1
For shame,' he cries,
l
let go, and let me go ; 379

My day's delight is past, my horse is gone,

And 'tis your fault I am bereft him so :

I pray you hence, and leave me here alone ; 382

For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,
Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.'
16 VENUS AND ADONIS
LXV
Thus she replies Thy palfrey, as he should,
'
:
385
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, 388
The deep desire hath none
sea hath bounds, but ;

Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.

LXVI
'
How he stood, tied to the tree,
like a jade 391

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 ; 394

Throwing the base thong from his bending crest,

Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast.
LXVII
'
Who naked bed,
sees his true-love in her 397

Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,

But, when his glutton eyes 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 ?
LXVIII
'
Let me
excuse thy courser, gentle boy ; 403
And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee,
To take advantage on presented joy ;
Though were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee
I :
406
O, learn to lovethe lesson is but plain,
;

And once made perfect, never lost again/

LXIX
e
I know not quoth he, nor will not know
love,'
'
it, 409
Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it ;

'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it ;

My love to love love but to disgrace it

is ; 412
For I have heard it is a life in death,
That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 17
LXX
'
Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd ? 415
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth ?
If springing things be any jot diminish' d,
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth :
418
The colt that's back'd and burthen' d being young
Loseth his pride and never waxeth strong.
LXXI
'
You hurt my hand with wringing ; let us part, 421
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 :

424
Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery ;

For where a heart is hard they make no battery.'

LXX 1 1
'
'
What ! canst thou talk
quoth she, hast thou a tongue ?
?
'

O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing 428 !

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.

LXXIII
'
Hadno eyes but ears, my ears would love
I 433
That inward beauty and invisible ;

Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would wove

Each part in me that were but sensible :
436
Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,
Yet should I be in love by touching thee.
LXXIV
'
Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me, 439
And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch,
And nothing but the very smell were left me,
Yet would my love to thee be still as much ; 442
For from the stillitory of thy face excelling
Comes breath perfumed that breedeth love by smelling.
18 VENUS AND ADONIS
LXXV
But, O, what banquet wert thou to the taste,
'
445

Being nurse and feeder of the other four !

Would they not wish the feast might ever last,

And bid Suspicion double-lock the door, 448
Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,
'

Should by his stealing in disturb the feast ?

LXXVI
Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd, 451
Which to his speech did honey passage yield ;

Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd

Wrack to the seaman, tempest to the field, 454
Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,
Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.

LXXVII
This presage advisedly she marketh
ill :
457
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.

LXXVIII
And at his look she flatly falleth down, 463
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 !

466
The silly boy, believing she is dead,

Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red ;

LXXIX
And amazed brake off his late intent,
all 469
For sharply he did think to reprehend her,
Which cunning love did wittily prevent :

Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her ! 472
For on the grass she lies as she were slain,
Till his breath breatheth life in her again.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 19
LXXX
He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, 475
He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard,
He chafes her lips ; a thousand ways he seeks
To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd :
478
He kisses her ;
and she, by her good will,
Will never rise, so he will kiss her still.

LXXXI
The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day :
481
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 ; 484
And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,
So is her face illumin'd with her
eye ;
LXXXI I
Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd, 487
As from thence they borrow' d all their shine,
if

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.
LXXXIII
'
'
O, where am I ? quoth she,
'
in earth or heaven, 493
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 ? 496
But now I liv'd, and life was death's annoy ;

But now I died, and death was lively joy.

LXXXIV

O, thou didst kill me kill me once again

'
: :
499

Thy eyes' shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine,

Hath taught them scornful tricks, and such disdain,
That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine ; 502
And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen,
But for thy piteous lips no more had seen.
20 VENUS AND ADONIS
LXXXV
e
Long may they each other, for this cure
kiss !
505
O, never let their crimson liveries wear !

And as they last, their verdure still endure,

To drive infection from the dangerous year !
508
That the star-gazers, having writ on death,
May say, the plague is banish' d by thy breath.
LXXXVI
f
Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, 511
What bargains may I make, still to be sealing ?

To sell myself I can be well contented,

So thou wilt buy, and pay, and use good dealing ; 514
Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips,
Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips.

LXXXVI I
'
A thousand kisses buys my heart from me ; 517
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 ?

LXXXVIII
' '
Fair Queen,' quoth he, if any love you owe me, 523
Measure my strangeness with my unripe years :

Before I know myself, seek not to know me ;

No fisherbut the ungrown fry forbears :
526
The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks fast,
Or being early pluck'd is sour to taste.
LXXXIX
'
Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait, 529
His day's hot task hath ended in the west ;

The owl, night's herald, shrieks ; 'tis

very late ;

The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest, 532

And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven's light
Do summon us to part and bid good-night.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 21
xc
Now me " Good
night/' and so say you
'
let say ; 535
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 :
538
Her arms do lend neck a sweet embrace
his ;

Incorporate then they seem face grows to face.

;

xci

Till breathless he disjoin'd, and backward drew 541

The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,
Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew,
Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drouth : 544
He with her plenty press'd, she faint with dearth,
Their lips together glued, fall to the earth.

xci i

Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey, 547

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.

XCIII

And having felt the sweetness of the spoil, 553

With blindfold fury she begins to forage ;
Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil,
And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage, 556

Planting oblivion, beating reason back,

Forgetting shame's pure blush and honour's wrack.
xciv

Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing, 559

Like a wild bird being tamed with too much handling,
Or as the fleet-foot roe that 's tired with chasing,
Or like the froward infant still'd with dandling, 562
He now obeys, and now no more resisteth,
While she takes all she can, not all she listeth.
22 VENUS AND ADONIS
XCV
What wax so frozen but dissolves with temp' ring, 565
And yields at last to every light impression ?
Things out of hope are compass' d oft with vent'ring,
Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission :
568
Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward,
But then woos best when most his choice is fro ward.
xcvi
When he did frown, O, had she then gave over, 571
Such nectar from his lips she had not suck'd.
Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover ;

What though the rose have prickles, yet 'tis pluck'd !

574
Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast,
Yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.

xcvn
For pity now she can no more detain him ; 577
The poor fool prays her that he may depart :

She is resolv'd 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.
xcvin
(
Sweet '
boy,' she says, this night I '11 waste in sorrow, 583
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 ? 586

He tells her, to-morrow he intends
no ;

To hunt the boar with certain of his friends.

xcix
'
'
The boar !
quoth she ;
whereat a sudden pale, 589
Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose,
Usurps her cheek she trembles at his tale,
;

And on his neck her yoking arms she throws : 592

She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck,
He on her belly falls, she on her back.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 23
c
Now is she in the very lists of love, 595
Her champion mounted for the hot encounter :

All is imaginary she doth prove,

He will not manege her, although he mount her ; 598
That worse than Tantalus' is her annoy,
To clip Elysium and to lack her joy.
ci

Even so poor birds, deceiv'd with painted grapes, 601

Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw :

Even so she languisheth in her mishaps,

As those poor birds that helpless berries saw. 604
The warm effects which she in him finds missing,
She seeks to kindle with continual kissing.
en
But all in vain good Queen, it will not be
; :
607
She hath assay'd as much as may be prov'd ;

Her pleading hath deserv'd a greater fee ;

She's Love, she loves, and yet she is not lov'd. 610

Fie, fie,' he says, you crush me let me go

' '
; ;

You have no reason to withhold me so.'

cm
'
Thou hadst been gone,' quoth she,
'
sweet boy, ere this,
But that thou told'st me thou would'st hunt the boar. 614
O, be advised thou know'st not what it is
:

With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore, 616

Whose tushes never sheath'd he whetteth still,
Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill.

civ
'
On his bow-back he hath a battel set 619
Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes ;
His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret ;

His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes ; 622

Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way,

And whom he strikes his crooked tushes slay.
24 VENUS AND ADONIS
cv
1
His brawny with hairy bristles armed,
sides, 625
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 : 628

The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,

As fearful of him, part through whom he rushes.
;

cvi

Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,

(
631

To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes ;

Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne,
Whose full perfection all the world amazes ; 634
But having thee at vantage, wondrous dread !

Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.

CVII
'
-O, let him keep
loathsome cabin still
his ; 637

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.

CVIII
'
Didst thou not mark my face ? was it not white ? 643
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, 646
My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest,
But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast.
cix
'
For where Love reigns, disturbing Jealousy 649
Doth call himself affection's sentinel ;

Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny,

"
And in a peaceful hour doth cry " Kill, kill !
652

Distemp'ring gentle Love in his desire,

As air and water do abate the fire.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 25
cx
(
This sour informer, this bate-breeding spy, 655
This canker that eats up Love's tender spring,
This carry- tale, dissentious Jealousy,
That sometime true news, sometime false doth bring, 658
Knocks at my heart and whispers in mine ear
That if I love thee, I thy death should fear :

CXI
'
And more
than so, presenteth to mine eye 661
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 ; 664
Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed
Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head.

cxn
(
What should I do, seeing thee, so indeed, 667
That tremble at th' 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.

CXIII
'
Butthou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by
if me ; 673

Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,

Or at the fox which lives by subtilty,
Or at the roe which no encounter dare :
676
Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,
And on thy well-breath'd horse keep with thy hounds.
cxiv
'
And when
thou hast on foot the purblind hare, 679
Mark the poor wretch, to overshut his troubles,
How he outruns the wind, and with what care
He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles : 682
The many musits through the which he goes
Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes
26 VENUS AND ADONIS
cxv
'
Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep, 685
To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell ;
And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,
To stop the loud pursuers in their yell ; 688
And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer :

Danger deviseth shifts ; wit waits on fear :

cxvi
1
For there his smell with others being mingled, 691
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 ; 694
Then do they spend their mouths Echo :
replies,
As if another chase were in the skies.
cxvn
'
By this, poor Wat, upon a hill,
far off 697
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.

CXVIII
'
Then shalt thou see the
dew-bedabbled wretch 703
Turn, and return, indenting with the way ;

Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch,

Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay :
706
For misery is trodden on by many,
And being low never relieved by any.
cxix
'
Lie quietly, and hear a little more ; 709
Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise :

To make thee hate the hunting of the boar,

Unlike myself thou hear'st me moralize, 712
Applying this to that, and so to so ;

For love can comment upon

every woe.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 27
cxx
' '
'
Where did I leave ?
'
No matter where ; quoth he, 715
'
Leave me, and then the story aptly ends :

'
The night is spent.' ' Why, what of that ? quoth she.
' e
I am/ quoth he, expected of my friends ; 718
And now 'tis dark, and going I shall fall.'
' '
In night/ quoth she, desire sees best of all.

CXXI
'
But O, then imagine this,
if thou fall, 721
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 ; 724
Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn,
Lest she should steal a kiss and die forsworn.

cxxn
(
Now
of this dark night I perceive the reason :
727

Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine,

Till forging Nature be condemn' d of treason,
For stealing moulds from heaven that were divine 730 ;

Wherein she framed thee in high heaven's despite,

To shame the sun by day and her by night.
CXXIII
'
And therefore hath she bribed the Destinies 733
To cross the curious workmanship of nature,
To mingle beauty with infirmities,
And pure perfection with impure defeature, 736
Making it subject to the tyranny

Of mad mischances and much misery ;

cxxiv
As burning agues pale and
'
fevers, faint, 739
and frenzies wood,
Life -poisoning pestilence
The marrow-eating sickness, whose attaint
Disorder breeds by heating of the blood :
742
Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn'd despair,
Swear Nature's death for framing thee so fair.
28 VENUS AND ADONIS
cxxv
'
And not the least of all these maladies 745
But in one minute's fight brings beauty under :

Both favour, savour, hue, and qualities,

Whereat th' impartial gazer late did wonder, 748
Are on the sudden wasted, thaw'd, and done,
As mountain snow melts with the midday sun.
cxxvi

Therefore, despite of fruitless chastity,

'
751

Love-lacking vestals and self-loving nuns,

That on the earth would breed a scarcity
And barren dearth of daughters and of sons, 754
Be prodigal the lamp that burns by night
:

Dries up his oil to lend the world his light.

cxxvn
'
What is thy body but a swallowing grave, 757

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.

CXXVIII
(
So in thyself thyself art made away ; 763
A mischief worse than home-bred strife,
civil

Or theirs whose desperate hands themselves do slay,

Or butcher-sire that reaves his son of life. 766

Foul-cankering rust the hidden treasure frets,

But gold that 's put to use more gold begets/

cxxix
( '
Nay, then,' quoth Adon, you will fall again 769
Into your idle over-handled theme :

The kiss I gave you is bestow' d in vain,

And all in vain you strive against the stream ; 772
For, by this black-faced night, desire's foul nurse,
Your treatise makes melike you worse and worse.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 29
cxxx
'
have lent you twenty thousand tongues,
If love 775
And every tongue more moving than your own,
Bewitching like the wanton Mermaid's songs,
Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown ; 778
For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear,
And will not let a false sound enter there ;

cxxxi
'
Lest the deceiving harmony should run 781
Into the quiet closure of my breast ;

And then my little heart were quite undone,

In his bedchamber to be barr'd of rest. 784
No, Lady, no ; my heart longs not to groan,
But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone.
CXXXII
'
What have you urged that I cannot reprove ? 787
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 !

CXXXIII
1
Callnot love, for Love to heaven is fled,
it 793
Since sweating Lust on earth usurp' d his name ;

Under whose simple semblance he hath fed

Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame ; , 796
Which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves,
As caterpillars do the tender leaves.
CXXXIV
t
Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, 799
But Lust's effect is tempest after sun ;

Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain,

Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done ; 802
Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies ;

Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.

30 VENUS AND ADONIS
cxxxv
'
More I could tell, but more I dare not say ; 805
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 : 808

Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended,

Do burn themselves for having so offended.'

cxxxvi
With
W*c/'*"^ **v/
he breaketh from the sweet embrace
** ..

^ 8n
this,
Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast, x^
And homeward through the dark lawnd runs apace ;^\
dis tress' d
Leaves Love upon her back,
deeply
:
^ 814

Look, how a'

bright stal-
shpote^h
from the sITy, t\
So glicles he in the nigKt from Venus' eye fc^

cxxxvu
Which after him she darts, as one on shore 817

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 diU the merciless ariH pitchy night m

Fold in the object that did feed her sight.

CXXXVIII
Whereat amazed, as one that unaware 823
Hath dropp'd a precious jewel in the flood,
Or stonish'd as night-wand'rers often are,
Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood ; 826
Even so confounded in the dark she lay,
Having lost the fair discovery of her way.
CXXXIX
And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans, 829
That all the neighbour caves, as seeming troubled,
Make verbal repetition of her moans ;

Passion on passion deeply is redoubled :

832
Ay me she cries, and twenty times
' '

Woe, woe
' '
! !

And twenty echoes twenty times cry so.

 VENUS AND ADONIS 31
CXL
She marking them begins a wailing note, 835
And sings extemporally a woeful ditty ;

How love makes young men thrall, and old men dote ;

How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty :

838
Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe,
And still the choir of echoes answer so.

CXLI
Her song was and outwore the night,
tedious, 841
For lovers' hours are long, though seeming short :

If pleas'd themselves, others, they think, delight

In such like circumstance, with such like sport :
844
Their copious stories, oftentimes begun,
End without audience, and are never done.
CXLII
For who hath she to spend the night withal 847
But idle sounds resembling parasites,
Like shrill-tongued tapsters answering every call,

Soothing the humour of fantastic wits ? 850

' '
'
She says f 'Tis so they answer all Tis so
:
;

And would say after her, if she said '

No.'

CXLIII

Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest, 853

From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in his majesty ; 856
Who doth the world so gloriously behold
That Cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.

CXLIV
Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow :
859
'
O
thou clear god, and patron of all light,
From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow
The beauteous influence that makes him bright, 862
There lives a son that suck'd an earthly mother,
May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other.'
32 VENUS AND ADONIS
CXLV
Thissaid, she hasteth to a myrtle grove, 865

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 : 868

Anon she hears them chant it lustily,

And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.

CXLVI

And, as she runs the bushes in the way, 871

Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face,
Some twined about her thigh to make her stay :

She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace, 874

Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ache,
Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake.
CXLVII

By this, she hears the hounds are at a bay ; 877

Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder
Wreath'd 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.

CXLVIII
For now she knows it is no gentle chase, 883
But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud,
Because the cry remaineth in one place,
Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud : 886

Finding their enemy to be so curst,

They all strain court' sy who shall cope him first.

CXLIX
This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear, 889

Through which it enters to surprise her heart ;

Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,

With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part : 892
Like soldiers, when their captain once doth yield,
They basely fly, and dare not stay the field.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 33
CL
Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy ; 895

Till,cheering up her senses all dismay'd,

She tells them 'tis a causeless fantasy,
And childish error, that they are afraid ; 898
Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no more :

And with that word she spied the hunted boar ;

CLI

Whose frothy mouth, bepainted all with red, 901

Like milk and blood being mingled both together,
A second fear through all her sinews spread,
Which madly hurries her, she knows not whither :
904
This way she runs, and now she will no further,
But back retires to rate the boar for murther.
CLII

A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways ; 907

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 naught at all respecting ;

In hand with all things, nought at all effecting.

CLIII

Here kennell'd in a brake she finds a hound, 913

And asks the weary caitiff for his master,
And there another licking of his wound,
'Gainst venom'd sores the only sovereign plaster ; 916
And here she meets another sadly scowling,
To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling.

CLIV
When he hath ceased his ill-resounding noise, 919
Another flap-mouth' d mourner, black and grim,
Against the welkin volleys out his voice ;
Another and another answer him, 922
Clapping their proud tails to the ground below,
Shaking their scratch' d ears, bleeding as they go.
C
34 VENUS AND ADONIS
CLV

Look, how the world's poor people are amazed 925

At apparitions, signs, and prodigies,
Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gazed,
Infusing them with dreadful prophecies ; 928
So she at these sad signs draws up her breath
And sighing it again, exclaims on Death.

CLVI
(
Hard-favour' d tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean, 931
Hateful divorce of love/ thus chides she Death,
f
Grim-grinning ghost, earth's worm, what dost thou mean
To stifle beauty and to steal his breath, 934
Who when he lived, his breath and beauty set
Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet ?

CLVII
'
If he be dead, O no, it cannot be, 937

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 feeble age, but thy false dart
is

Mistakes that aim and cleaves an infant's heart.

CLVI II
'
Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke, 943
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 :

946
Love's golden arrow at him should have fled,
And not Death's ebon dart, to strike him dead.
CLIX
'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 ? 952
Now Nature cares not for thy mortal vigour,
Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigour,'
 VENUS AND ADONIS 35
CLX
Here overcome, as one full of despair, 955
She vail'd her eyelids, who, like sluices, stopt
The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair
In the sweet channel of her bosom dropt ; 958
But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain,
And with his strong course opens them again.
CLXI

O, how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow !

961
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 ; 964

But stormy day, now wind, now rain,
like a

Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again.

CLXII

Variable passions throng her constant woe, 967

As striving who should best become her grief;
All entertain' d, each passion labours so,
That every present sorrow seemeth chief, 970
But none is best then join they all together,
:

Like many clouds consulting for foul weather.

CLXIII

By this, far off she hears some huntsman halloo ; 973

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 ; 97 6
For now reviving joy bids her rejoice,
And flatters her it is Adonis' voice.

CLXIV
Whereat her tears began to turn their tide, 979
Being prison'd in her eye, like pearls in glass ;

Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside,

Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass 982
To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground,
Who is but drunken when she seemeth drown'd.
36 VENUS AND ADONIS
CLXV

hard-believing love, how

strange it seems !
985
Not and yet too credulous
to believe, :

Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes ;

Despair and hope makes thee ridiculous :

988
The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely,
In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly.

CLXVI
Now she unweaves the web
that she hath wrought ; 991
Adonis lives, and Death is not to blame ;
It was not she that call'd him all to nought :

Now she adds honours to his hateful name ; 994

She clepes him king of graves, and grave for kings,

Imperious, supreme of all mortal things.

CLXVII
e
No, no/ quoth she, sweet Death, I did but jest
'
; 997
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.

CLXVIII
'
'Tis not my fault : the boar provok'd my tongue ; 1003
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 : 1006

Grief hath two tongues, and never woman yet
Could rule them both without ten women's wit/

CLXIX
Thus hoping that Adonis is alive, 1009
Her rash suspect she doth extenuate ;

And that his beauty may the better thrive,

With Death she humbly doth insinuate ; 1012
Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs, and stories
His victories, his triumphs and his glories.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 37
CLXX
'
O Jove,' quoth she,
'
how much a fool was I, 1015
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 ! 1018
For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,
And, beauty dead, black Chaos comes again.
CLXXI
'
Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear 1021

As one with treasure laden, hemm'd with thieves ;

Trifles unwitnessed with eye, or ear,

Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.' 1024
Even at this word she hears a merry horn,
Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn.

CLXXIl
As falcons to the lure, away she flies ; 1027
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 ;

CLXXIII

Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit, 1033

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 ; 1036

So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled

Into the deep dark cabins of her head :

CLXXIV
Where they resign their office and their light 1039
To the disposing of her troubled brain ;

Who bids them still consort with ugly night,

And never wound the heart with looks again ; 1042

Who, like a king perplexed in his throne,

By their suggestion gives a deadly groan.
38 VENUS AND ADONIS
CLXXV
Whereat each tributary subject quakes ; 1045
As when the wind, imprison' d in the ground,
Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes,
Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound. 1048
This mutiny each part doth so surprise,
That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes ;

CLXXVI

And, being open'd, threw unwilling light 1051

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, 1055

But stole his blood and seem'd with him to bleed.
CLXXVII
This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth ; 1057
Over one shoulder doth she hang her head ;

Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth ;

She thinks he could not die, he is not dead : 1060

Her voice isstopt, her joints forget to bow ;

Her eyes are mad that they have wept till now.
CLXXVIII

Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly, 1063

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 : 1066
His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled ;

For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.

CLXXIX
'
My tongue cannot express my grief for one, 1069
And yet,' quoth she, behold two Adons dead
{
!

My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone,

Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead : 1072

Heavy heart's lead, melt at mine eyes' red fire !

So shall I die by drops of hot desire.

 VENUS AND ADONIS 39
CLXXX
'
Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost !
1075
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 ? 1078
The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim ;

But true, sweet beauty liv'd and died with him.

CLXXXI
'
Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear ! 1081
Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you :

Having no fair to lose, you need not fear ;

The sun doth scorn you and the wind doth hiss you :
1084
But when Adonis liv'd, sun and sharp air
Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair :

CLXXXI I
1
And therefore would he put his bonnet on, 1087
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.
CLXXXIII
f
To see his face the lion walk'd along 1093
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 ; 1096
If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey
And never fright the silly lamb that day.
CLXXXIV
'
When he beheld his shadow
in the brook, 1099
The fishesspread on it their golden gills ;
When he was by, the birds such pleasure took,
That some would sing, some other in their bills 1102
Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries ;

He fed them with his sight, they him with berries.

40 VENUS AND ADONIS
CLXXXV
f
But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar, 1105
Whose downward eye looketh for a grave,
still

Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore ;

Witness the entertainment that he gave : 1108

If he did see his face, why then I know

He thought to kiss him, and hath killed him so.

CLXXXVI
'
'Tis true, 'tis true ; thus was Adonis slain : mi
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 ; 1114
And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine
Sheath' d unaware the tusk in his soft groin.

CLXXXVII
'
Had I been must confess,
tooth' d like him, I 1117
With kissing him I should have kill'd him first ;

But he is dead, and never did he bless

My youth with his the more am I accurst.'
;
1120

With this, she falleth in the place she stood,

And stains her face with his congealed blood.

CLXXXVIII
She looks upon his lips, and they are pale ; 1123
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 ;
1126

She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes,

Where, lo, two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies ;

CLXXXIX
Two glasses, where herself herself beheld 1129
A thousand times, and now no more reflect ;

Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell'd,

And every beauty robb'd of his effect : 1132
(
Wonderof time/ quoth she, ' this is my spite,
That, thou being dead, the day should yet be light.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 41
cxc
'Since thou art dead, lo, here I prophesy :
1135
Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend :

be waited on with jealousy,

It shall
Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end ; 1138
Ne'er settled equally, but high or low,
That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe.

cxci
'
be fickle, false and full of fraud,
It shall 1141

Bud, and be blasted, in a breathing-while ;

The bottom poison, and the top o'erstraw'd

With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile :
1144
The strongest body shall it make most weak,
Strike the wise dumb and teach the fool to speak.

cxcn
'
be sparing and too full of riot,
It shall 1147

Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures ;

The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet,

Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures ; 1150
It shall be raging-mad and silly-mild,
Make the young old, the old become a child.

CXCIII
'
where is no cause of fear
It shall suspect ; 1153
It shall not fear where it should most mistrust ;

It shall be merciful and too severe,

Arid most deceiving when it seems most just ; 1156
Perverse it shall be where it shows most toward,
Put fear to valour, courage to the coward.

cxciv
1
be cause of war and dire events,
It shall 1159
And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire ;

Subject and servile to all discontents,

As dry combustious matter is to fire : 1162
Sith in his prime Death doth my love destroy,

They that love best their loves shall not enjoy/

42 VENUS AND ADONIS
cxcv

By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd 1165

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, 1168

Resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood

Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood.
cxcvi
She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell, 1171

Comparing it to her Adonis' breath,

And says, within her bosom it shall dwell,
Since he himself is reft from her by death :
1174
She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears
Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears.
cxcvn
' '
Poor flower,' this was thy father's guise
quoth she, 1177
Sweet more sweet-smelling sire
issue of a
For every little grief to wet his eyes :

To grow unto himself was his desire, 1180

And so 'tis thine ; but know, it is as good
To wither in my breast as in his blood.

CXCVIII
'
Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast ; 1183
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 : 1186
There shall not be one minute in an hour
Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower/

cxcix
Thus weary of the world, away she hies, 1189
And yokes her silver doves by whose swift aid,
;

Their mistress, mounted through the empty skies

In her light chariot, quickly is convey' d ; 1192

Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen

Means to immure herself and not be seen.
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE
TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLEY,
EARLE OP SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TITCHPIELD.

THE loue I dedicate to your Lordship is without end whereof

:

thisPamphlet without beginning is but a superfluous Moity.

The warrant I haue of your Honourable disposition, not the
worth of my untutord Lines makes it assured of acceptance.
What I haue done is yours, what I haue to doe is yours, being
part in all I haue, devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my
duety would shew greater, meane time, as it is, it is bound to
your Lordship To whom I wish long life still lengthned with
;

all happinesse.

Your Lordship's in all duety,

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARK.

tt
 THE ARGUMENT.
Lucius TARQUINIUS, for his excessive pride surnamed Superbus,
afterhe 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 that which every one had before avouched, only

trial of
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 Tarquinius 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 stealeth into her chamber, violently
ravished her, and early in the morning speedeth 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 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 consent and a general acclamation the Tarquins were

all exiled, and the state
government changed from kings to
consuls.
44
 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 unhaply set

'
8

This bateless edge on his keen appetite ;

When Collatine unwisely did not let

To praise the clear unmatched red and white
Which triumph' d in that sky of his delight, 12

Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's Beauties,

With pure aspects did him peculiar duties.

in

For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent, 15

Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state ;

What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent

In the possession of his beauteous mate ;
Reck'ning his fortune at such high-proud rate, 19
That Kings might be espoused to more fame,
But King nor Peer to such a peerless dame.
45
46 LUCRECE
IV

O happiness enjoy'd but of a few ! 22

And, if possessed, 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 ; 26

Honour and Beauty, in the owner's arms,
Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms.

Beauty itself doth of itself persuade 29

The eyes of men without an Orator ;

What needeth then apologies be made,

To set forth that which is so singular ?
Or why is Collatine the publisher 33
Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown
From thievish ears, because it is his own ?

VI

Perchance his boast of Lucrece' Sov'reignty 36

Suggested this proud issue of a King ;
For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be :

Perchance that envy of so rich a thing,

Braving compare, disdainfully did sting 40
His high-pitch'd thoughts, that meaner men should vaunt
That golden hap which their superiors want.

VII

But some untimely thought did instigate 43

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. 47
O rash false heat, wrapp'd in repentant cold,

Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows old !

 LUCRECE 47

VIII

When Lord arrived,

at Collatium this false 50
Well was he welcom'd 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 ; 54

When Beauty boasted blushes, in despite
Virtue would stain that or with silver white.

IX

But Beauty, in that white intituled 57

From Venus' doves, doth challenge that fair field :

Then Virtue claims from Beauty, Beauty's red,

Which Virtue gave the golden age, to gild
Theirsilver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield ; 61

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, 64

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 ; 68

The sovereignty of either being so great,
That oft they interchange each other's seat.

XI

This silent war of Lilies and of Roses, 71

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 75
To those two armies that would let him go,
Rather than triumph in so false a foe.
48 LUCRECE
XII

Now thinks he that her husband's shallow tongue, 78

The niggard prodigal that praised her so,
In that high task hath done her beauty wrong,
Which far exceeds his barren skill to show :

Therefore that praise which Collatine doth owe, 82

Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise,

In silent wonder of still gazing eyes.

XIII

This earthly saint, adored by this devil, 85

Little suspecteth the false worshipper ;
'
For ' unstain'd thoughts do seldom dream on evil ;
'
'
Birds never limed no secret bushes fear ;
So guiltless she securely gives good cheer 89
And reverend welcome to her princely guest,
Whose inward ill no outward harm express'd :

XIV

For that he colour' d with his high estate, 92

Hiding base sin in pleats of Majesty ;

That nothing in him seem'd inordinate,

Save sometime too much wonder of his eye,
Which, having all, all could not satisfy ; 96
But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store,
That, cloy'd with much, he pineth still for more.

xv
But she, that never coped with stranger eyes, 99
Could pick no meaning from their parling looks,
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 ; 103

Nor could she moralize his wanton sight,
More than his eyes were open'd to the light
 LUCRECE 49

XVI

He stories to her ears her husband's fame, 106

Won in the fields of fruitful Italy ;

And decks with praises Collatine's high name,

Made glorious by his manly chivalry
With bruised arms and wreaths of victory : no
Her joy with heaved-up hand she doth express,
And, wordless, so greets heaven for his success.

XVII

Far from the purpose of his coming thither, 113

He makes excuses for his being there :

No cloudy show of stormy blust'ring weather

Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear ;

mother of dread and fear,

Till sable Night, 117

Upon the world dim darkness doth display,

And in her vaulty prison stows the day.

XVIII

For then Tarquin brought unto his bed,

is 120

Intending weariness with heavy spright ;

For, after supper, long he questioned

With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night :

Now leaden slumber with strength doth fight

life's 124 ;

And every one to rest themselves betake,

Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds, that wake.

XIX

As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving 127

The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining ;

Yet ever to obtain his will resolving,

Though weak-built hopes persuade him to abstaining :

Despair to gain doth traffic oft for gaining, 131

And when great treasure is the meed proposed,
Though death be adjunct, there 's no death supposed.
D
50 LUCRECE
XX
Those that much covet are with gain so fond 134
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 138

Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain,
That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.

XXI

The aim of all is but to nurse the life 141

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 ; 145

Honour for wealth and oft that wealth doth
; cost
The death of all, and all together lost.

XXII

So that in venturing ill we leave to be 148

The things we are for that which we expect ;

And this ambitious, foul infirmity,

In having much, torments us with defect
Of that we have so then we do neglect
:
152
The thing we have, and, all for want of wit,
Make something nothing by augmenting it.

XXIII

Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make, 155

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, 159
When he himself himself confounds, betrays
To slanderous tongues and wretched hateful days ?
 LUCRECE 51

XXIV

Now stole upon the time the dead of night, 162

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 166

The lambs pure thoughts are dead and still,
silly
:

While Lust and Murder wakes to stain and kill.

XXV
And now this Lord leap'd from his bed,
lustful 169

Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm ;

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 charm, 173

Doth too too oft betake him to retire,
Beaten away by brain-sick rude desire.

XXVI

His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth, 176

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.'

XXVII

Here pale with fear he doth premeditate 183

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 187

His naked armour of still, slaughter'd Lust,
And justly thus controls his thoughts unjust :
52 LUCRECE
XXVIII
'
Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not 190
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 :

194
Let fair humanity abhor the deed
That spots and stains love's modest snow- white weed.

XXIX
'
O shame to knighthood and to shining Arms !
197
O foul dishonour to my household's grave !

O impious act, including all foul harms !

A martial man to be soft fancy's slave !

True valour still a true respect should have ; 201

Then my digression so vile, so base,

is

That it will live engraven in my face.

XXX
(
Yea, though the scandal will survive,
I die, 204
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, 208

Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin
To wish that I their father had not been.

XXXI
'What win I, if I gain the thing I seek ? 2 n
A dream, breath, a froth of fleeting joy.
a
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 ? 215
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown,
Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down ?
 LUCRECE 53

XXXII
'
If Collatinus dream of my intent, 218
Will he not wake, and in a desp'rate rage
Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent ?
This siege that hath engirt his marriage,
This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage, 222
This dying virtue, this surviving shame,
Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame ?

XXXIII

O, what excuse can my invention make,

'
225
When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed ?
Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake ?

Mine eyes forego their light, my false heart bleed ?

The guilt, being great, the fear doth still exceed ; 229
And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly,
But coward-like with trembling terror die.

XXXIV
'
Had Collatinus kill'd my son or sire, 232
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 :
236
But as he is my dear friend,
kinsman, my
The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end.

xxxv
'
Shameful it is ; ay, if the fact be known :
239
Hateful it is ; there is no hate in loving :

I '11 beg her love but she is not her own

; :

The worst is but denial and reproving :

My will is strong, past reason's weak removing. 243

Who fears a sentence or an old man's saw
Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.'
54 LUCRECE
XXXVI

Thus graceless holds he disputation 246

'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.

XXXVII

Quoth he, She took

'
me kindly by the hand, 253
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 !
257
First red as Roses that on lawn we lay,
Then white as lawn, the Roses took away.

XXXVIII
'
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, 264

That had Narcissus seen her as she stood,
Self-love had never drown'd him in the flood.

XXXIX
1
Why hunt I then for colour or excuses ? 267
All Orators are dumb when Beauty
pleadeth ;
Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses ;
Love shadows dreadeth
thrives not in the heart that :

Affection my Captain,
is and he leadeth 271
;

And when his gaudy banner is display' d,

The coward fights and will not be dismay' d.
 LUCRECE 55

XL
'
Then, childish fear, avaunt
debating, die
! !
274

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. 278

Desire my Pilot is,Beauty my prize ;
'

Then who fears sinking where such treasure lies ?

XLI

As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear 281

Isalmost choked by unresisted lust :

Away he steals with open list'ning ear,

Full of foul hope and full of fond mistrust ;

Both which, as servitors to the unjust, 285

So cross him with their opposite persuasion,
That now he vows a league, and now invasion.

XLH
Within his thought her heavenly image sits, 288

And in the self-same seat sits Collatine :

That eye which looks on her confounds his wits ;

That eye which him beholds, as more divine,

Unto a view so false will not incline ; 292
But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart,
Which once corrupted takes the worser part ;

XLI 1 1

And therein heartens up his servile powers, 295

Who, flatter' d by their leader's jocund show,
Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours ;
And as their Captain, so their pride doth grow,

Paying more slavish tribute than they owe. 299

By reprobate desire thus madly led,

The Roman Lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed.
56 LUCRECE
XLIV

The locks between her chamber and his will, 302

Each one by him enforced, retires his ward ;
But, as they open, they all rate his ill,

Which drives the creeping thief to some regard :

The threshold grates the door to have him heard 306 ;

Night-wand'ring weasels shriek to see him there ;

They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear.

XLV

As each unwilling portal yields him way, 309

Through little vents and crannies of the place

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 313 ;

But his hot heart, which fond desire doth scorch,

Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch :

XLVI

And being lighted, by the light he spies 316

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,
e
This glove to wanton tricks 320
Is not inured ; return again in haste ;

Thou see'st our mistress' ornaments are chaste.'

XLVII

But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him ; 323
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 barswhich stop the hourly dial, 327
Who with a lingering stay his course doth let,
Till every minute pays the hour his debt.
 LUCRECE 57

XLVIII
' '
So, so/ quoth he, these lets attend the time, 330
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 ; 334
Huge rocks, high winds, strong pirates, shelves and sands,
The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands.'

XLIX

Now is he come unto the chamber door, 337

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.
So from himself impiety hath wrought, 341
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, 344

Having solicited th' 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
: :
348
The powers to whom
pray abhor this fact,
I

How can they then assist me in the act ?

LI

'
Then Love and Fortune be my Gods, my guide !
351

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. 355
The eye Heaven is out, and misty night
of
Covers the shame that follows sweet delight.'
58 LUCRECE
LII

This said, his guilty hand pluck' d up the latch, 358

And with his knee the door he opens wide.
The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch :

Thus treason works ere traitors be espied.

Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside ; 362
But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing,
Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting.

LIII

Into the chamber wickedly he stalks, 365

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 ; 369

Which gives the watch-word to his hand full soon
To draw the cloud that hides the silver Moon.

LIV

Look, as the fair and fiery-pointed Sun, 372

Rushing from forth a cloud, bereaves our sight ;
Even so, the curtain drawn, his eyes begun
To wink, being blinded by a greater light :

Whether it is that she reflects so bright, 376

That dazzleth them, or else some shame supposed ;

But blind they are, and keep themselves enclosed.

LV

O, had they in that darksome prison died !

379
Then had they seen the period of their ill ;

Then Collatine again, by Lucrece' side,

In his clear bed might have reposed still :

But they must ope, this blessed league to kill ; 383

And holy-thoughted Lucrece to their sight
Must sell her joy, her life, her world's delight.
 LUCRECE 59

LVI

Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under, 386

Coz'ning 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 unhallowed eyes.

LVII

Without the bed her other fair hand was, 393

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 sheath'd their light, 397
And canopied in darkness sweetly lay,
Till they might open to adorn the day.

LVI1I

Her hair, like golden threads, play'd with her breath ;

O modest wantons wanton modesty

! !
401

Showing life's triumph in the map of death,

And death's dim look in life's mortality :

Each in her sleep themselves so beautify, 404

As if between them twain there were no strife,
But that life liv'd in death, and death in life.

LIX

Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blue, 407

A pair of maiden worlds unconquered,
Save of their Lord no bearing yoke they knew,
And him by oath they truly honoured.
These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred ; 411

Who, like a foul usurper, went about

From this fair throne to heave the owner out.
60 LUCRECE
LX

What could he see but mightily he noted ? 414

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 418
Her azure veins, her alabaster skin,
Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin.

LXI

As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey, 421

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, 425

His eye, which late this mutiny restrains,
Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins :

LXH
And they, like straggling slaves for pillage fighting, 428
Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting,
In bloody death and ravishment delighting,
Nor children's tears nor mother's groans respecting,
Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting :
432
Anon his beating heart, alarum striking,
Gives the hot charge and bids them do their liking.

LXIII

His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye, 435

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 ; 439
Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did scale,
Left their round turrets destitute and pale.
 LUCRECE 61

LXIV

They, mustering to the quiet cabinet 442

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, 446

Who, peeping forth this tumult to behold,

Are by his flaming torch dimm'd and controll'd.

LXV

Imagine her as one in dead of night 449

From forth dull sleep
by dreadful fancy waking,
That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly sprite,
Whose grim aspect sets every joint a-shaking ;

What terror 'tis

! but she, in worser taking, 453
From sleep disturbed, needfully doth view
The sight which makes supposed terror true.

LXVI

Wrapp'd and confounded in a thousand fears, 456

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.

LXVI I

His hand, that yet remains upon her breast, 463

Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall !

May feel her heart poor citizen !

distress'd,

Wounding death, rise up and fall,

itself to

Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal. 467

This moves in him more rage and lesser pity,
To make the breach and enter this sweet city.
62 LUCRECE
LXVIII

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 ; 474
But she with vehement prayers urgeth still

Under what colour he commits this ill.

LXIX

Thus he replies ' The colour in thy face,

:
477
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 :

Under that colour am I come to scale 481

Thy never-conquer'd fort the fault is thine,

:

For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine.

LXX
6
Thus thee, if thou mean to chide
I forestall :
484
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 ; 488
But and reason beat it dead,
as reproof

By thy bright beauty was it newly bred.

LXXI
'
I see what my attempt will bring ;
crosses 491
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 495 ;

Only he hath an eye to gaze on Beauty,

And dotes on what he looks, 'gainst law or duty.
 LUCRECE 63

LXXII
'
I have debated, even in my soul, 498
What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall breed ;

But nothing can affection's course control,

Or stop the headlong fury of his speed.
I know
repentant tears ensue the deed, 502

Reproach, disdain, and deadly enmity ;

Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy/

LXXIII

This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade, 505

Which, like a falcon tow' ring 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 509

Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells
With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon's bells.

LXXIV
'
Lucrece,' quoth he,
e
this night I must enjoy thee :
512
If thou deny, then force must work way, my
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 ; 516
And in thy dead arms do I mean to place him,
Swearing I slew him, seeing thee embrace him.

LXXV
'
So thy surviving husband shall remain 519
The mark of every open eye
scornful ;

Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdain,

Thy issue blurr'd with nameless bastardy :

And thou, the author of their obloquy, 523

Shalt have thy trespass cited up in rhymes,
And sung by children in succeeding times.
64 LUCRECE
LXXVI
<
But if thou yield, I rest thy secret friend : 526
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 sometimes is compacted 530
In a pure compound being so applied,
;

His venom in effect is purified.

LXXVII
'
Then, for thy husband and thy children's sake, 533
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 :

537
For marks descried in men's nativity
Are nature's faults, not their own infamy/

LXXVIII
Here with a Cockatrice' dead-killing eye 540
He rouseth up himself and makes a pause ;
While she, the picture of pure piety,
Like a white hind under the gripe's sharp claws,
Pleads, in a wilderness where are no laws, 544
To the rough beast that knows no gentle right,
Nor aught obeys but his foul appetite.

LXXIX

But when a black-faced cloud the world doth threat,

In his dim mist th' aspiring mountains hiding, 548
From earth's dark womb some gentle gust doth get,
Which blows these pitchy vapours from their biding,
Hindering their present fall by this dividing ; 551
So his unhallow'd haste her words delays,
And moody Pluto winks while Orpheus plays.
 LUCRECE 65

LXXX

Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally, 554

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 558
No penetrable entrance to her plaining :

Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining.

LXXXI

Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fixed 561

In the remorseless wrinkles of his face ;

Her modest eloquence witn sighs is mixed,

Which to her oratory adds more grace.
She puts the period often from his place, 565
And midst the sentence so her accent breaks,
That twice she doth begin ere once she speaks.

LXXXII

She conjures him by high Almighty Jove, 568

By knighthood, gentry, and sweet friendship's oath,

By her untimely tears, her husband's love,
By holy human law, and common troth,
By Heaven and Earth, and all the power of both, 572
That to his borrow'd bed he make retire,
And stoop to honour, not to foul desire.

LXXXIII

Quoth she,
e
Reward not
hospitality 575
With such black payment as thou hast pretended ;

Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee ;

Mar not the thing that cannot be amended ;

End thy ill aim before thy shoot be ended ; $79

He is no woodman that doth bend his bow
To strike a poor unseasonable doe.
E
66 LUCRECE
LXXXIV
'
My husband is thy friend ;
for his sake spare me :
582

Thyself art mighty ; for thine own sake leave me :

Myself a weakling do not then ensnare me

;
:

Thou look'st not like deceit do not deceive me. ;

My sighs, like whirlwinds, labour hence to heave thee :

If ever man were moved with woman's moans, 587

Be moved with my tears, my sighs, my groans :

LXXXV
'
All which together, like a troubled ocean, 589
Beat at thy rocky and wrack-threat' ning heart,
To soften it with their continual motion ;

For stones dissolv'd to water do convert.

O, if no harder than a stone thou art, 593
Melt at my tears, and be compassionate !

Soft pity enters at an iron gate.

LXXXV I

'
In Tarquin's likeness I did entertain thee :
596
Hast thou put on his shape to do him shame ?
To all the Host of Heaven I complain me.
Thou wrongest his honour, wound' st his princely name :

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

For Kings like Gods should govern every thing.

LXXXV II
'
How shame be seeded in thine age,
will thy 603
When thus thy vices bud before thy spring !

If in thy hope thou dar'st do such outrage,

What dar'st thou not when once thou art a King ?
O, be rememb'red, no outrageous thing 607
From vassal actors can be wiped away ;
Then Kings' misdeeds cannot be hid in clay.
 LUCRECE 67

LXXXVIII
'
This deed will make thee only lov'd for fear ; 610
But happy Monarchs still are fear'd 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 ; 614

For Princes are the glass, the school, the book,
Where subjects' eyes do learn, do read, do look.

LXXXIX
'
And wilt thou be
the school where Lust shall learn ? 617
Must he in thee read lectures of such shame ?
Wilt thou be glass wherein it shall discern
Authority for sin, warrant for blame,
To privilege dishonour in thy name ? 621
Thou back'st reproach against long-living laud,
And mak'st fair reputation but a bawd.

xc
'
Hast thou command ? by him that gave it thee, 624
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, 628

When, pattern' d by thy fault, foul sin may say,

He learn' d to sin, and thou didst teach the way ?

xci
1
Think but how vile a spectacle it were, 631
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. 635

O how are they wrapp'd in with infamies
That from their own misdeeds askance their eyes !
68 LUCRECE
XCII
'
Tothee, to thee, my heav'd-up hands appeal, 638
Not to seducing Lust, thy rash relier :

I sue for exiled majesty's repeal;

Let him return, and flatt'ring thoughts retire :

His true respect will prison false desire, 642

And wipe the dim mist from thy doting eyne,
That thou shalt see thy state and pity mine/

XCIII
'
'
Have done/ quoth he :
my uncontrolled tide 645
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 649

To their salt sovereign, with their fresh falls' haste
Add to his flow, but alter not his taste.'

xciv
'
Thou art,' quoth she,
'
a sea, a sovereign King ; 652
And lo, there thy boundless flood
falls into

Black lust, dishonour, shame, misgoverning,

Who seek to stain the Ocean of thy blood.
If all those petty ills shall change thy good, 656

Thy sea within a puddle's womb is hearsed,

And not the puddle in thy sea dispersed.

xcv
f
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 ; 663

The cedar stoops not to the base shrub's foot,
But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root.
 LUCRECE 69

XCVI
'

thy thoughts, low vassals to thy state

'
So let 666
'
No more, 'quoth he
'
by Heaven, I will not hear thee
; :

Yield to my love ;
if not, enforced hate,
Instead of love's coy touch, shall rudely tear thee ;

That done, despitefully I mean to bear thee 670

Unto the base bed of some rascal groom,
To be thy partner in this shameful doom.'

XCVII

This said, he sets his foot upon the light, 673

For light and lust are deadly enemies :

Shame folded up in blind concealing night,

When most unseen, then most doth tyrannise.
The wolf hath seized his prey, the poor lamb cries ; 677
Till with her own white fleece her voice controll'd
Entombs her outcry in her lips' sweet fold :

XCVIII

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 !
684
The spots whereof could weeping purify,
Her tears should drop on them perpetually.

xcix

But she hath lost a dearer thing than life, 687

And he hath won what he would lose again :

This forced league doth force a further strife ;

This momentary joy breeds months of pain ;

This hot desire converts to cold disdain :
691
Pure Chastity is rifled of her store,
And Lust, the thief, far poorer than before.
70 LUCRECE

Look, as the full-fed hound, or gorged hawk, 694

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 :

698
His taste delicious, in digestion souring,
Devours his will, that lived by foul devouring.

ci

O, deeper sin than bottomless conceit 701

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 705
Can curb his heat, or rein his rash desire,
Till like a jade Self-will himself doth tire.

en
And then with lank and lean discolour' d cheek, 708
With heavy eye, knit brow, and strengthless pace,
Feeble Desire, all recreant, poor, and meek,
Like to a bankrupt beggar wails his case :

The flesh being proud, Desire doth fight with Grace,

For there revels ; and when that decays,
it 713
The guilty rebel for remission prays.

cm
So with this faultful Lord of Rome,
fares it 715
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 719

;

To whose weak ruins muster troops of cares,

To ask the spotted Princess how she fares.
 LUCRECE 71

CIV

Shesays, her subjects with foul insurrection 722

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 : 726
Which in her prescience she controlled still,

But her foresight could not forestall their will.

Ev'n 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. 733

She bears the load of lust he left behind,
And he the burthen of a guilty mind.

cvi

He like a thievish dog creeps sadly thence ; 736

She like a wearied lamb lies panting there ;

He scowls and hates himself for his offence ;

She, desperate, with her nails her flesh doth tear ;

He faintly flies, sweating with guilty fear ; 740

She stays, exclaiming on the direful night ;
He runs, and chides his vanish'd, loath'd delight.

cvi i

He thence departs a heavy convertite ; 743

She there remains a hopeless castaway ;

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, 747
And my true eyes have never practis'd how
To cloak offences with a cunning brow.
72 LUCRECE
CVIII

They think not but that every eye can see

'
750
The same disgrace which they themselves behold ;

And therefore would they still in darkness be,

To have their unseen sin remain untold ;
For they their guilt with weeping will unfold, 754
And grave, like water that doth eat in steel,
Upon my cheeks what helpless shame I feel.'

cix

Here she exclaims against repose and rest, 757

And bids her eyes hereafterbe blind still :

She wakes her heart by beating on her breast,

And bids it leap from thence, where it may find
Some purer chest to close so pure a mind. 761
Frantic with grief thus breathes she forth her spite
Against the unseen secrecy of night :

ex
'
O comfort-killing Night, image of Hell !
764
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

! !
768
Grim cave of death whisp'ring conspirator
!

With close-tongu'd treason and the ravisher !

CXI
'
O hateful, vaporous, and foggy Night ! 771
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 thou wilt permit the Sun to climb

if 775
His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed,
Knit poisonous clouds about his golden head.
 LUCRECE 73

CXII
'
With rotten damps ravish the morning air ; 778
Let their exhaled unwholesome breaths make sick
The life of purity, the supreme fair,
Ere he arrive his weary noon-tide prick ;

And thy musty vapours march so thick,

let 782
That in their smoky ranks his smoth'red light
May set at noon, and make perpetual night.

CXIII

'Were Tarquin Night,, as he is but Night's child, 785

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 have co-partners in my pain

I ; 789
And fellowship in woe doth woe assuage,
As Palmers' chat makes short their pilgrimage.

cxiv
'
Where now I have no one to blush with me, 792
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, 796
Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with groans,
Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans.

cxv
e
O
Night, thou furnace of foul-reeking smoke, 799
Let not the jealous Day behold that face
Which underneath thy black all-hiding cloak
Immodestly lies martyr'd with disgrace !

Keep possession of thy gloomy place,

still 803
That all the faults which in thy reign are made
May likewise be sepulchred in thy shade.
74 LUCRECE
CXVI
'
Make me not object to the tell-tale Day ! 806

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 loathsome trespass in my looks.
my
cxvn
'
The nurse, to her child, will tell my story,
still 813
And fright her crying babe with Tarquin's name :

The Orator, to deck his oratory,

Will couple my reproach to Tarquin's shame ;

Feast-finding minstrels, tuning my defame, 817

Will tie the hearers to attend each line,
How Tarquin wronged me, I Collatine.

ex vii i
'
Let my good name, that senseless reputation, 820
For Collatine's dear love be kept unspotted :

If that be made a theme for disputation,

The branches of another root are rotted,
And undeserv'd reproach to him allotted 824
That is as clear from this attaint of mine
As I, ere this, was pure to Collatine.

cxix
e
O unseen shame invisible disgrace
! ! 827
O unfelt sore crest-wounding, private
! scar !

Reproach is
stamp' d in Collatinus' face,
And Tarquin's eye may read the mot afar,
How " He in peace is wounded, not in war." 831

Alas, how many bear such shameful blows,

Which not themselves, but he that gives them knows !
 LUCRECE 75

cxx
'
If, Collating thine honour lay in me, 834
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 838 :

In thy weak Hive a wandering wasp hath crept,

And suck'd the Honey which thy chaste Bee kept.

cxx i
'
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, 845

And talk'd of virtue O : unlook'd-for evil,
When virtue is profaned in such a Devil !

cxxn
'
Why should the worm intrude the maiden bud ? 848
Or hateful Cuckoos hatch in Sparrows' nests ?
Or Toads infect fair founts with venom mud ?
Or tyrant folly lurk in gentle breasts ?
Or Kings be breakers of their own behests ? 852
But no perfection is so absolute,
That some impurity doth not pollute.

CXXIII
f
The aged man that coffers-up his gold 855
Isplagued 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 ; 859

Having no other pleasure of his gain

But torment that it cannot cure his pain.
76 LUCRECE
CXXIV
e
So then he hath it when he cannot use it, 862

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. 866

The sweets we wish for, turn to loathed sours

Even in the moment that we call them ours.

cxxv
1
Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring ; 869
Unwholesome weeds take root with precious flowers ;

The Adder hisses where the sweet Birds sing ;

What Virtue breeds Iniquity devours :

We have no good that we can say is ours, 873

But ill-annexed Opportunity
Or kills his life or else his quality.

cxxvi
'
O Opportunity, thy guilt is great !
876
'Tis thou that execut'st 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.

cxxvi i
'
Thou makest the vestal violate her oath ; 883
Thou blowest 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 : 887

Thou ravisher, thou traitor, thou false thief,
Thy honey turns to gall, thy joy to grief!
 LUCRECE 77

CXXVIII
'
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. 894

How comes it then, vile Opportunity,
Being so bad, such numbers seek for thee ?

cxxix

When wilt thou be the humble suppliant's friend, 897

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 ?

Give physic to the sick, ease to the pained ? 901

The poor, lame, blind, halt, creep, cry out for thee ;

But they ne'er meet with Opportunity.

cxxx
'
The Patient dies while the Physician sleeps ; 904
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 :
908
Wrath, Envy, Treason, Rape, and Murder's rages,
Thy heinous hours wait on them as their Pages.

cxxxi
'
When Truth and Virtue have to do with thee, 911
A thousand crosses keep them from thy aid :

They buy thy help ; but Sin ne'er gives a fee,

He gratis comes ; and thou art well appaid,
As well to hear as grant what he hath said. 915
My Collatine would else have come to me,
When Tarquin did, but he was stay'd by thee.
78 LUCRECE
CXXXII
'
Guilty thou art of murder, and of theft, 918
Guilty of perjury, and subornation,
Guilty of treason, forgery, and shift,
Guilty of incest, that abomination ;
An accessary by thine inclination 922
To all sins past, and all that are to come,
From the creation to the general doom.

CXXXII I
(
Mis-shapen Time, copesmate of ugly Night, 925
Swift subtle post, carrier of grisly care,
Eater of youth, false slave of false delight,
Base watch of woes, sin's pack-horse, virtue's snare ;
Thou nursest all and murd'rest all that are:
929
O, hear me then, injurious, shifting Time !

Be guilty of my death, since of my crime.

cxxxiv
'
Why hath thy servant, Opportunity, 932
Betray'd the hours thou gav'st 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 ; 936
To eat up errors
by opinion bred,
Not spend the dowry of a lawful bed.

cxxxv
'
Time's glory calm contending Kings,
is to 939
To unmask falsehood and bring truth to light,
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, 943
To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours,
And smear with dust their glitt'ring golden towers ;
 LUCRECE 79

CXXXVI
'
To fill with worm-holes stately monuments, 946
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 ;

CXXXVII
*
To show the beldam daughters of her daughter, 953
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, 957
To cheer the ploughman with increaseful crops,
And waste huge stones with little water-drops.

CXXXVI 1 1
(
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 :
964
O, this dread night, wouldst thou one hour come back,
I could prevent this storm and shun thy wrack !

CXXXIX
'
Thou ceaseless lackey to Eternity, 967
With some mischance cross Tarquin in his flight :

Devise extremes beyond extremity,

To make him curse this cursed crimeful night :

Let ghastly shadows his lewd eyes affright ; 97 i

And the dire thought of his committed evil
Shape every bush a hideous shapeless devil.
80 LUCRECE
CXL
'
Disturb his hours of rest with restless trances, 974
Afflict him in his bed with bedrid groans ;
Let there bechance him pitiful mischances,
To make him moan but pity not his moans
; :

Stone him with harden' d hearts, harder than stones ;

And let mild women to him lose their mildness, 979

Wilder to him than tigers in their wildness.

CXLI
'
Let him have time to tear his curled hair, 981
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, 985
And time to see one that by alms doth live
Disdain to him disdained scraps to give.

CXLII
'
Let him have time to see his friends his foes, 988
And merry mock at him resort
fools to ;

Let him have time to mark how slow time goes

In time of sorrow, and how swift and short
His time of folly, and his time of sport ; 992
And ever let his unrecalling crime
Have time to wail th' abusing of his time.

CXLIII
'
O
Time, thou tutor both to good and bad, 995
Teach me to curse him that thou taught 'st this ill !

At his own shadow let the thief run mad,

Himself himself seek every hour to kill !

Such wretched hands such wretched blood should spill ;

For who so base would such an office have 1000

As slanderous deathsman to so base a slave ?
 LUCRECE 81

CXLIV
'
The baser is he, coming from a King, 1002

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. 1006

The Moon being clouded presently is miss'd,

But little stars may hide them when they list.

CXLV
'
The Crow may bathe his coal-black wings in mire,
And unperceiv'd fly with the filth
away ; I0 io
But the like the snow-white
if 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, 1014

But Eagles gazed upon with every eye.

CXLVI
'
Out, idle words, servants to shallow fools ! 1016

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.

CXLVI I
'
In vain I rail at Opportunity, 1023
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. 1027
The remedy indeed to do me good
Is to let forth my foul defiled blood.
F
82 LUCRECE
CXLVIII

Poor hand; quiver'st thou at this decree

'
why ? 1030
Honour thyself to rid me of this shame ;
For if I die, my honour lives in thee ;
But if I live, thou liv'st in my defame :

Since thou couldst not defend thy loyal Dame, 1034

And wast afeard to scratch her wicked foe,
Kill both thyself and her for yielding so.'

CXLIX

This said, from her be-tumbled couch she starteth, 1037

To find some desp'rate instrument of death :

But this no slaughter-house no tool imparteth

To make more vent for passage of her breath ;

Which, thronging through her lips, so vanisheth 1041

As smoke from Jftna, that in air consumes,
Or that which from discharged cannon fumes.

CL
'
In vain,' quoth she, '
and seek in vain
I live, 1044
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 :

1048
So am I now O no, that cannot be
:
;

Of that true type hath Tarquin rifled me.

CLI
'
O, that is gone for which I sought to live, 1051
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 :

1055
Poor helpless help, the treasure stol'n away,
To burn the guiltless casket where it lay !
 LUCRECE 83

CLII

'
Well, well, dear Collatine, thou shalt not know 1058
The stained taste of violated troth ;

I will not wrong thy true affection so,

To flatterthee with an infringed oath ;

This bastard graff shall never come to growth : 1062

He shall not boast who did thy stock pollute

That thou art doting father of his fruit.

CLIII

'
Nor shall he smile at thee in secret thought, 1065
Nor laugh with his companions at thy state ;

But thou shalt know thy int'rest was not bought

Basely with gold, but stol'n from forth thy gate.

For me, I am the mistress of my fate, 1069
And with my trespass never will dispense,
Till life to death acquit my forced offence.

CLIV
'
I will not poison thee with my attaint, 1072
Nor fold myfault 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, 1076

As from a mountain-spring that feeds a dale,
Shall gush pure streams to purge my impure tale.'

CLV

By this, lamenting Philomel had ended 1079

The well-tuned warble of her nightly sorrow,
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 :

1083
But cloudy Lucrece shames herself to see,
And therefore still in night would cloister'd be.
84 LUCRECE
CLVI

Revealing day through every cranny spies, 1086

And seems to point her out where she sits weeping ;

To whom she sobbing speaks '

O eye of eyes,
:

Why thou through my window ? leave thy peeping

pry'st :

Mock with thy tickling beams eyes that are sleeping 1090 :

Brand not my forehead with thy piercing light,

For day hath nought to do what 's done by night.'

CLVI I

Thus cavils she with every thing she sees :

1093
True grief isfond and testy as a child,
Who wayward once, his mood with nought agrees :

Old woes, not infant sorrows, bear them mild ;

Continuance tames the one the other wild,

; 1097
Like an unpractis'd swimmer plunging still,
With too much labour drowns for want of skill.

CLVIII

So she, deep-drenched in a sea of care, noo

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 :
1104
Sometime her grief is dumb and hath no words ;

Sometime 'tis mad and too much talk affords.

CLIX

The little birds that tune their morning's joy 1107

Make her moans mad with their sweet melody :

"
For t( mirth doth search the bottom of annoy ;
" Sad souls are slain in "
merry company ;
" Grief best is "
pleas'd with grief's society : mi
" True sorrow then is
feelingly sufficed
When with like semblance it is sympathised."
 LUCRECE 85

CLX
" 'Tis double death to drown in ken of shore " ; 1114
" He ten times "
that
pines food
pines beholding ;

" "
To see the salve doth make the wound ache more ;

" Great "

grief grieves most at that would do it good ;

" m8
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.

CLXI

birds/ quoth she, your tunes entomb 1121

You mocking
' '

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" :
1125
Relish your nimble notes to pleasing ears ;

" Distress likes

dumps when time is kept with tears."

CLXII

'Come, Philomel, that sing'st of ravishment, 1/28

Make thy sad grove in my dishevell'd hair :

As the dank earth weeps at thy languishment,

So I at each sad strain will strain a tear,
And with deep groans the diapason bear; 1132
For burden-wise I '11 hum on Tarquin still,
While thou on Tereus descant' st better skill.

CLXIII

'And whiles against a thorn thou bear'st thy part, 1135

To keep thy sharp woes waking, wretched I,
To imitate thee well, against my heart
Will fix a sharp knife to affright mine eye ;

Who, if it wink, shall thereon fall and die. 1139

These means, as frets upon an instrument,
Shall tune our heart-strings to true languishment.
86 LUCRECE
CLXFV
'
And
for, poor bird, thou sing'st not in the day, 1142
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 1146
To creatures stern sad tunes, to change their kinds :

Since men prove beasts, let beasts bear gentle minds.'

CLXV
As the poor frighted deer, that stands at gaze, 1149

Wildly determining which way to fly,

Or one encompass' d with a winding maze,
That cannot tread the way out readily ;
So with herself is she in mutiny, 1153
To live or die which of the twain were better,
When life is shamed, and death reproach's debtor.

CLXVI

'To kill myself/ quoth she, (

alack, what were it, 1156
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 1160

Who, having two sweet babes, when death takes one,

Will slay the other and be nurse to none.

CLXVI I

body or my soul, which was the dearer,

'
My 1163
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,

!
1167
His leaves will wither and his sap decay ;
So must my soul, her bark being peel'd away.
 LUCRECE 87

CLXVIII
'
Her house is sack'd, her quiet interrupted, 1170
Her mansion batter' d by the enemy ;

Her sacred temple spotted, spoil'd, corrupted,

Grossly engirt with daring infamy :

Then let it not be call'd impiety, 1174

If in this blemish'd fort I make some hole

Through which I may convey this troubled soul.

CLIX
'
Yet die I will not till my Collatine 1177
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.
My stained blood to Tarquin I '11 bequeath, 1181

Which by him tainted shall for him be spent,

And as his due writ in my testament.

CLXX

My honour I '11 bequeath unto the knife

'
1184
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 ;

1188

For in my death I murder shameful scorn :

My shame so dead, mine honour is new-born.

CLXXI
'
Dear Lord of that dear jewel I have lost, 1191
What legacy shall bequeath to thee ?
I

My resolution, love, shall be thy boast,

By whose example thou reveng'd mayst be.
How Tarquin must be used, read it in me :
1195

Myself, thy friend, will kill myself, thy foe,

And for my sake serve thou false Tarquin so.
88 LUCRECE
CLXXII
'
This brief abridgement of my will 1 make :
1198

My soul and body to the skies and ground ;

My resolution, husband, do thou take ;

Mine honour be the knife's that makes my wound ;

My shame be his that did my fame confound 1202 ;

And all my fame that lives disbursed be

To those that live, and think no shame of me.

CLXXIII
'
Thou, Collatine, shall oversee this will ; 1205
How was I overseen that thou shalt see it !

My blood shall wash the slander of mine ill ;

My life's foul deed, my life's fair end shall free"it.

Faint not, faint heart, but stoutly say " So be it : 1209
Yield to my hand ; my hand shall conquer thee :

Thou dead, both die, and both shall victors be.'

CLXXIV

This plot of death when sadly she had laid, 1212

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 1217
As winter meads when sun doth melt their snow.

CLXXV
Her mistress she doth give demure good-morrow, 1219
With soft slow tongue, true mark of modesty,
And her Lady's sorrow
sorts a sad look to ;

(For why her

? face wore sorrow's livery)
But durst not ask of her audaciously 1223

Why her two suns were cloud-eclipsed so, >

Nor why her fair cheeks over-wash'd with woe.
 LUCRECE 89

CLXXVI
But as the earth doth weep, the Sun being set, 1226
Each flower moist'ned 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.

CLXXVII

A pretty while these pretty creatures stand, 1233

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 1237

;

Grieving themselves to guess at others' smarts,

And then they drown their eyes or break their hearts.

CLXXVIII

For men have marble, women waxen, minds, 1240

And therefore are they form'd as marble will ;
The weak oppress'd, th' impression of strange kinds
Is form'd in them by force, by fraud, or skill :

Then call them not the authors of their ill, 1244

No more than wax shall be accounted evil
Wherein is stamp'd the semblance of a Devil.

CLXXIX

Their smoothness, like a goodly champaign plain, 1247

Lays open all the little worms that creep ;

In men, as in a rough-grown grove, remain

Cave-keeping evils that obscurely sleep ;

Through crystal walls each little mote will peep 1251 :

Though men can cover crimes with bold stern looks,

Poor women's faces are their own faults' books.
90 LUCRECE
CLXXX
No man inveigh against the withered flower, 1254
But chide rough winter that the flower hath kill'd ;

Not that devour'd, but that which doth devour,

Isworthy blame. O, let it not be hild
Poor women's faults, that they are so fulfill'd 1258
With men's abuses those proud Lords to blame
:

Make weak-made women tenants to their shame.

CLXXXI

The precedent whereof in Lucrece view ; 1261

Assail' d by night with circumstances strong

Of present death, and shame that might ensue
By that her death, to do her husband wrong :

Such danger to resistance did belong, 1265

That dying fear through all her body spread :

And who cannot abuse a body dead ?

CLXXXII

By this, mild patience bid fair Lucrece speak 1268

To the poor counterfeit of her complaining :

'
My girl/ quoth she, e on what occasion break
Those tears from thee, that down thy cheeks are raining ?
If thou dost weep for grief of my sustaining, 1272
Know, gentle wench, it small avails my mood :

mine own would do me good.

If tears could help,

CLXXXIII
'
'
But tell me, girl, when went
and there she stay'd 1275
'

Tarquin from hence ?

'
Till after adeep groan
1
Madam, ere I was up,' replied the maid,
f
The more to blame my sluggard negligence :

Yet with the fault I thus far can dispense ; 1279

Myself was stirring ere the break of day,

And, ere I rose, was Tarquin gone away.
 LUCRECE 91

CLXXXIV

But, Lady, if your maid may be so bold,

(
1282

She would request to know your heaviness/

'
e
quoth Lucrece if it should be
'
O, peace ! :
told,
The repetition cannot make it less ;

For more it is than I can well express : 1286

And that deep torture may be call'd a Hell

When more is felt than one hath power to tell.

CLXXXV
<
Go, get me hither paper, ink, and pen :
1289
Yet save that labour, for I have them here.
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 : 1293
Bid him with speed prepare to carry it ;

The cause craves haste, and it will soon be writ/

CLXXXVI

Her maid is
gone, and she prepares
to write, 1296
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 too-curious good, this blunt and ill

is :
1300
Much like a press of people at a door,
Throng her inventions, which shall go before.

CLXXXVII

At last she thus begins :

'
Thou worthy Lord 1303
Of that unworthy wife that greeteth thee,
Health to thy person next vouchsafe t' afford
!

Lucrece thou wilt see

If ever, love, thy
Some present speed to come and visit me. 1307

So, I commend me from our house in grief:

My woes are tedious, though my words are brief/
92 LUCRECE
CLXXXVIII

Here folds she up the tenure of her woe, 1310

Her certain sorrow writ uncertainly.
By this short schedule Collatine may know
Her grief, but not her griefs true quality :

She dares not thereof make discovery, 1314

Lest he should hold it her own gross abuse,
Ere she with blood had stain'd her stain'd excuse.

CLXXXIX

Besides, the and feeling of her passion

life 1317
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
From that suspicion which the world might bear her. 1321
To shun this blot, she would not blot the letter
With words, till action might become them better.

cxc
To see sad sights moves more than hear them told ; 1324
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 :
1328

Deep sounds make lesser noise than shallow fords,

And sorrow ebbs, being blown with wind of words.

cxci

Her letter now is seal'd, and on it writ 1331

'
At Ardea to my lord with more than haste.'
The post attends, and she delivers it,
Charging the sour-faced groom to hie as fast
As lagging fowls before the Northern blast 1335
:

Speed more than speed but dull and slow she deems :

Extremity still urgeth such extremes.

 LUCRECE 93

CXCII

The homely villain court'sies to her low ; 1338

And, blushing on her with a steadfast eye,

Receives the scroll without or yea or no,
And forth with bashful innocence doth hie.
But they whose guilt within their bosoms lie 1342

Imagine every eye beholds their blame ;

For Lucrece thought he blush'd to see her shame.

CXCIII

When, silly groom God wot, it was

! defect 1345
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 : 1349
Even so the pattern of this worn-out age
Pawn'd honest looks, but laid no words to gage.

cxciv

His kindled duty kindled her mistrust, 1352

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 1356 :

The more she saw the blood his cheeks replenish,

The more she thought he spied in her some blemish.

cxcv

But long she thinks till he return again, 1359

And yet the duteous vassal scarce is gone.
The weary time she cannot entertain,
For now 'tis stale to sigh, to weep, and groan :

So woe hath wearied woe, moan tired moan, 1363

That she her plaints a little while doth stay,
Pausing for means to mourn some newer way.
94 LUCRECE
CXCVI

At last she calls to mind where hangs a piece 1366

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,
Threat'ning cloud-kissing Ilion with annoy ; 1370
Which the conceited Painter drew so proud,
As Heaven (it seem'd) to kiss the turrets bow'd.

CXCVII

A thousand lamentable objects there, 1373

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 ; 1377

And dying eyes gleam' d forth their ashy lights,
Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights.

cxcvm
There might you see the labouring pioneer 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 :
1384
Such sweet observance in this work was had,
That one might see those far-off eyes look sad.

cxcix

In great commanders grace and majesty 1387

You might behold, triumphing in their faces ;

In youth, quick bearing and dexterity ;

And here and there the Painter interlaces

Pale cowards, marching on with trembling paces ; 1391
Which heartless peasants did so well resemble,
That one would swear he saw them quake and tremble.
 LUCRECE 95

r<

In Ajax and Ulysses, O, what Art 1394

Of Physiognomy might one behold !

The face of either cipher'd cither's heart ;

Their face their manners most expressly told :

In Ajax' eyes blunt rage and rigour roll'd ; 1398

But the mild glance that sly Ulysses lent
Show'd deep regard and smiling government.

cci

There pleading might you see grave Nestor stand, 1401

As 'twere encouraging the Greeks to fight ;

Making such sober action with his hand,

That beguiled attention, charm'd the sight
it :

In speech, it seem'd, his beard, all silver white, 1405

Wagg'd up and down, and from his lips did fly

Thin winding breath, which purl'd up to the sky.

ecu
About him were a press of gaping faces, 1408
Which seem'd to swallow up his sound advice ;

All jointly list'ning, but with several graces,

As if some Mermaid did their ears entice,
Some high, some low, the Painter was so nice ; 1412
The scalps of many, almost hid behind,
To jump up higher seem'd, to mock the mind.

CCIII

Here one man's hand lean'd on another's head, 1415

His nose being shadow'd by his neighbour's ear ;

Here one being throng'd bears back, all boll'n and red ;

Another smother'd seems to pelt and swear ;

And in their rage such signs of rage they bear, 1419

As, but for loss of Nestor's golden words,

It seem'd they would debate with angry swords.
96 LUCRECE
CCIV

For much imaginary work was there ; 1422

Conceit deceitful, so compact, so kind,
That for Achilles' image stood his spear,
Gripp'd in an armed hand himself behind,;

Was unseen, save to the eye of mind

left :
1426
A hand, a foot, a face, a leg, a head,
Stood for the whole to be imagined.

ccv

And from the walls of strong-besieged Troy 1429

When their brave hope, bold Hector march'd to field,
Stood many Trojan mothers, sharing joy
To see their youthful sons bright weapons wield ;

And to their hope they such odd action yield, 1433

That through their light joy seemed to appear,
Like bright things stain'd, a kind of heavy fear.

ccvi

And from the strand of Dardan, where they fought,

To Simois' reedy banks the red blood ran, 1437
Whose waves to imitate the battle sought
-With swelling ridges and their ranks began
;

To break upon the galled shore, and than 1440

Retire again, meeting greater ranks,
till,

They join and shoot their foam at Simois' banks.

CCVII

To this well-painted piece is Lucrece come, 1443

To find a face where all distress is steel'd.

Many she sees where cares have carved some,

But none where all distress and dolour dwell'd,
Till she despairing Hecuba beheld, 1447

Staring on Priam's wounds with her old eyes,

Which bleeding under Pyrrhus' proud foot lies.
 LUCRECE 97

CCVIII

In her the Painter had anatomised 1450

Time's ruin, beauty's wrack, and grim care's reign :

Her cheeks with chops and wrinkles were disguised ;

Of what she was, no semblance did remain :

Her blue blood changed to black in every vein, 1454

Wanting the spring that those shrunk pipes had fed,

Show'd life imprison'd in a body dead.

ccix

On this sad shadow Lucrece spends her eyes, 1457

And shapes her sorrow to the beldame's woes,
Who nothing wants to answer her but cries,
And bitter words to ban her cruel foes :

The Painter was no God to lend her those ; 1461

And therefore Lucrece swears he did her wrong,
To give her so much grief and not a tongue.

ccx
'
Poor instrument,' quoth she, ' without a sound, 1464
I'11 tune
thy woes with my lamenting tongue ;

And drop sweet balm in Priam's painted wound,

And rail on Pyrrhus that hath done him wrong ;

And with my tears quench Troy that burns so long ; 1468

And with my knife scratch out the angry eyes
Of all the Greeks that are thine enemies.

ccxi
'
Show me the strumpet that began this stir, 1471
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 ; 1475

And here in Troy, for trespass of thine eye,
The Sire, the son, the Dame, and daughter die.
G
98 LUCRECE
CCXIl
'
Why should the private pleasure of some one 1478
Become the public plague of many moe ?
Let sin, alone committed, light alone
Upon his head that hath transgressed so ;

Let guiltless souls be freed from guilty woe :

1482
For one's offence why should so many fall,
To plague a private sin in general ?

CCXIII

Lo, here weeps Hecuba, here Priam dies,

'
1485
Here manly Hector faints, here Troilus swounds,
Here friend by friend in bloody channel lies,
And friend to friend gives unadvised wounds,
And one man's lust these many lives confounds :
1489
Had doting Priam check'd his son's desire,
Troy had been bright with fame and not with fire.'

ccxiv

Here feelingly she weeps Troy's painted woes :

1492
For sorrow, like a heavy hanging bell,
Once set his own weight goes
on ringing, with ;

Then strength rings out the doleful knell

little :

So Lucrece, set awork, sad tales doth tell 1496

To pencill'd pensiveness and colour'd sorrow ;
She lends them words, and she their looks doth borrow.

ccxv
She throws her eyes about the painting round, 1499
And whom she finds forlorn she doth lament.
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 ; 1503

Onward to Troy with the blunt swains he goes,
So mild, that Patience seem'd to scorn his woes.
 LUCRECE 99

CCXVI

In him the Painter labour'd with his skill 1506

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 1510

That blushing red no guilty instance gave,
Nor ashy pale the fear that false hearts have.

ccxvn

But, like a constant and confirmed Devil, 1513

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 1517
Into so bright a day such black-faced storms,
Or blot with Hell-born sin such Saint-like forms.

CCXVIII

The well-skill'd workman

this mild image drew 1520
For perjur'd Sinon, whose enchanting story
The credulous old Priam after slew ;
Whose words like wildfire burnt the shining glory
Of rich-built Ilion, that the skies were sorry, 1524
And little stars shot from their fixed places,
When their glass fell wherein they view'd their faces.

ccxix

This picture she advisedly perused, 1527

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 :

And still on him she
gazed ; and gazing still, 1531
Such signs of truth in his plain face she spied,
That she concludes the picture was belied.
100 LUCRECE
ccxx
'
f
cannot be/ quoth she, ' that so much guile
It 1534
'
'
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, 1538
And turn'd '
thus, It cannot be, I find,
it

But such a face should bear a wicked mind :

ccxxi
'
For even as subtle Sinon here is painted, 1541
So sober-sad, so weary, and so mild,
(As if with grief or travail he had fainted),
To me came Tarquin, armed to begild
With outward honesty, but yet defiled 1545
With inward vice as Priam him did cherish,
:

So did I Tarquin ; so my Troy did perish.

ccxxn
1
Look, look, how list'ning Priam wets his eyes, 1548
To see those borrow'd tears that Sinon sheds !

Priam, why art thou old and yet not wise ?

For every tear he falls a Trojan bleeds :

His eye drops fire, 110 water thence proceeds ; 1552

Those round clear pearls of his, that move thy pity,
Are balls of quenchless fire to burn thy city.

CCXXIII
'
Such Devils steal effects from lightless Hell ; 1555
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 1559
:

So Priam's trust false Sinon's tears doth flatter,

That he finds means to burn his Troy with water.'
 LUCRECE 101

ccxxrv

Here, enraged, such passion her assails,

all 1562
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 :
1566
At last she smilingly with this gives o'er ;

'Fool, fool !'

quoth she, 'his wounds will not be sore.

ccxxv
Thus ebbs and flows the current of her sorrow, 1569
And time doth weary time with her complaining.
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 :

1573

Though woe be heavy, yet it seldom sleeps ;

And they that watch, see time, how slow it

creeps.

ccxxvi

Which time hath overslipp'd her thought,

all this 1576
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 easethsome, though none it ever cured,
To think their dolour others have endured.

ccxxvn
But now the mindful messenger, come back, 1583

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 :
1587
These water-galls in her dim element
Foretell new storms to those already spent.
102 LUCRECE
CCXXVIII

Which when her sad-beholding husband saw, 1590

Amazedly in her sad face he stares :

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

Her lively colour kill'd with deadly cares.
He hath no power to ask her how she fares :
1594
Both stood, like old acquaintance in a trance,
Met far from home, wond'ring each other's chance.

ccxxix

At he takes her by the bloodless hand,

last 1597
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 ?

Why thou thus attired in discontent ?
art 1601

Unmask, dear dear, this moody heaviness,

And tell thy grief, that we may give redress.'

ccxxx
Three times with sighs she gives her sorrow fire, 1604
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 ; 1608

While Collatine and his consorted lords

With sad attention long to hear her words.

ccxxxi

And now this pale Swan in her watery nest 1611

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 ; 1615

And my laments would be drawn out too long,
To tell them all with one poor tired tongue.
 LUCRECE 103

CCXXXII
'
Then be this all the task it hath to say : 16x8

Dear husband, in the interest of thy bed

A stranger came, and on that pillow lay
Where thou wast wont to rest thy weary head ;

And what wrong else may be imagined 1622

By foul enforcement might be done to me,

From that, alas, thy Lucrece is not free.

CCXXXIII
'
For in the dreadful dead of dark midnight, 1625
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
; 1629
On thee and thine this night I will inflict,
If thou my love's desire do contradict.

ccxxxiv
" For
'
some hard-favour'd groom of thine," quoth he,
" Unless thou
yoke thy liking to my will, 1633
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 1636

The lechers in their deed this act will be
:

My fame and thy perpetual infamy."

ccxxxv
'
With did begin to start and cry ;
this, I 1639
And then against my heart he sets his sword,
Swearing, unless I took all patiently,
I should not live to
speak another word ;
So should my shame still rest upon record, 1643
And never be forgot in mighty Rome
Th' adulterate death of Lucrece and her groom.
104 LUCRECE
CCXXXVI
'
Mine enemy was strong, my poor self weak, 1646
And far the weaker with so strong a fear :

My bloody judge forbade my tongue to speak :

No rightful plea might plead for justice there :

His scarlet Lust came evidence to swear 1650

That my poor beauty had purloin'd his eyes ;
And when the judge is robb'd the prisoner dies.

ccxxxvn
'
O, teach me how to make mine own excuse !
1653
Or at the least this refuge let me find ;

Though gross blood be stain'd with this abuse,

my
Immaculate and spotless is my mind ;

That was not forced that never was inclined

; 1657
To accessary yieldings, but still pure
Doth in her poison'd closet yet endure/

ccxxxvm
Lo, here, the hopeless merchant of this loss, 1660
With head declined, and voice damm'd up with woe,
With sad set eyes, and wretched arms across,
From lips new-waxen pale begins to blow
The grief away that stops his answer so 1664 :

But, wretched as he is, he strives in vain ;

What he breathes out his breath drinks up again.

ccxxxix
As through an arch the violent roaring tide 1667
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 ;

In rage sent out, recall'd in rage, being past :

1671
Even so his sighs, his sorrows, make a saw,
To push grief on, and back the same grief draw.
 LUCRECE 105

CCXL
Which woe of his poor she attend eth,
speechless 1674
And untimely frenzy thus awaketh
his :

'
Dear Lord, thy sorrow to my sorrow lendeth
Another power ; no flood by raining slaketh.
My woe too sensible thy passion maketh 1678
More feeling-painful let it then suffice
:

To drown one woe, one pair of weeping eyes.

CCXLI
'
And my sake,
for when
might charm thee so,
I 1681
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

:
1685
Comes too late, yet let the traitor die
all ;

For " sparing justice feeds iniquity."

CCXLII
'
But ere I name him, you fair Lords/ quoth she, 1688

Speaking to those that came with Collatine,

'
Shall plight your honourable faiths to me,
With swift pursuit to venge this wrong of mine ;
For 'tis a meritorious fair design 1692
To chase injustice with revengeful arms :

'

Knights, by their oaths, should right poor Ladies' harms.

CCXLIII

At this request, with noble disposition 1695

Each present Lord began to promise aid,
As bound in Knighthood to her imposition,
Longing to hear the hateful foe bewray'd.
But she, that yet her sad task hath not said, 1699
The protestation stops.
'
O, speak/ quoth she,
'
How may this forced stain be wiped from me ?
106 LUCRECE
CCXLIV
*
What the quality of my offence,
is 1702

Being constrained 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 ? 1706

The poisoned fountain clears itself again ;
'
And why not I from this compelled stain ?

CCXLV
With this, they all at once began to say, 1709
Her body's stain her mind untainted clears ;

While with a joyless smile she turns away

The face, that map which deep impression bears
Of hard misfortune, carv'd in it with tears, 1713
' '
No, no/ quoth she, no Dame, hereafter living,
By my excuse shall claim excuse's giving.'

CCXLVI

Here with a sigh, as if her heart would break, 1716

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.'

CCXLVII

Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast 1723

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 1727

Her winged sprite, and through her wounds doth fly
Life's lasting date from cancel! 'd destiny.
 LUCRECE 107

CCXLVIII

Stone-still, astonish'd with this deadly deed, 1730

Stood Collatine and all his Lordly crew ;
TillLucrece' father, that beholds her bleed,
Himself on her self-slaughter'd body threw ;

And from the purple fountain Brutus drew 1734

The murderous knife, and, as it left the place,
Her blood, in poor revenge, held it in chase ;

CCXLIX

And bubbling from her breast, it doth divide 1737

In two slow rivers, that the crimson blood
Circles her body in on every side,
Who, like a late-sack'd island, vastly stood
Bare and unpeopled in this fearful flood. 1741
Some of her blood still pure and red remain'd,
And some look'd black, and that false Tarquin stain'd.

CCL

About the mourning and congealed face 1744

Of that black blood a wat'ry rigol goes,
Which seems to weep upon the tainted place :

And ever since, as pitying Lucrece' woes,

Corrupted blood some watery token shows ; 1748
And blood untainted still doth red abide,
Blushing at that which is so putrified.

CCLI
*

Daughter, dear daughter/ old Lucretius cries, 1751

'
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. 1755
If children predecease progenitors,
We are their offspring, and they none of ours.
108 LUCRECE
CCLII

'
Poor broken glass, I often did behold 1758
In thy sweet semblance my old age new born ;
But now that fair fresh mirror, dim and old,
Shows me a bare-boned death by time outworn :

O, from thy cheeks my image thou hast torn, 1762

And shiver' d all the beauty of my glass,
That I no more can see what once I was !

CCLIII

'
O time, cease thou thy course
and last no longer 1765
If they surcease to be that should survive.
Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger
And leave the falt'ring feeble souls alive ?
The old Bees die, the young possess their hive :
1769
Then sweet Lucrece, live again and see
live,
'"

Thy father die, and not thy father thee !

CCLIV

By this, starts Collatine as from a dream, 1772

And bids Lucretius give his sorrow place ;

And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream

He and bathes the pale fear in his face,
falls,
And counterfeits to die with her a space ; 1776
Till manly shame bids him possess his breath
And live to be revenged on her death.

CCLV

The deep vexation of his inward soul 1779

Hath serv'd a dumb arrest upon his tongue ;

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
; 1783
Weak words, so thick come in his poor heart's aid,
That no man could distinguish what he said.
 LUCRECE 109

CCLVI
'
Yet sometime ' Tarquin was pronounced plain, 1786
But through his teeth, as if the name he tore.
This windy tempest, till it blow up rain,
Held back his sorrow's tide, to make it more ;

At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er :

1790
Then son and father weep with equal strife
Who should weep most, for daughter or for wife.

CCLVII

The one doth call her his, the other his, 1793
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

; 1797
He weeps for her, for she was only mine,
And only must be wail'd by Collatine.'

CCLVIII
* '
O,' quoth Lucretius, I did give that life 1800
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.'
' '

daughter and
* '
My my wife with clamours fill'd 1804
The dispers'd air, who, holding Lucrece' life,
'

Answer'd their cries, ' my daughter and f my wife.'

CCLIX

Brutus, who
pluck'd the knife from Lucrece' side, 1807

Seeing such emulation in their woe,

Began to clothe his wit in state and pride,

Burying in Lucrece' wound his folly's show.
He with the Romans was esteemed so 1811

As silly-jeering idiots are with Kings,

For sportive words and utt'ring foolish things :
110 LUCRECE
CCLX

But now he throws that shallow habit by, 1814

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 : 1818

Letmy unsounded
self, suppos'd a fool,
Now set thy long-experienced wit to school.

CCLXI
'
Why, Collatine, is woe the cure for woe ? 1821
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 1825 :

Thy wretched wife mistook the matter so,

To slay herself, that should have slain her foe.

CCLXII
'
Courageous Roman, do not steep thy heart 1828
In such relenting dew of lamentations ;
But kneel with me and help to bear thy part,
To rouse our Roman Gods with invocations,
That they will suffer these abominations 1832

(Since Rome herself in them doth stand disgraced),

By our strong arms from forth her fair streets chased.

CCLXII I
1
Now, by the Capitol that we adore, 1835
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 1839
Her wrongs to us, and by this bloody knife,
We will revenge the death of this true wife.'
 LUCRECE 111

CCLXIV

This said, he struck his hand upon his breast, 1842

And kiss'd the fatal knife, to end his vow ;
And to his protestation urged the rest,

Who, wond'ring at him, did his words allow :

Then jointly to the ground their knees they bow :

1846
And that deep vow, which Brutus made before,
He doth again repeat, and that they swore.

CCXLV

When they had sworn to this advised doom, 1849

They did conclude to bear dead Lucrece thence ;

To show her bleeding body thorough Rome,

And so to publish Tarquin's foul offence :

Which being done with speedy diligence, 1853

The Romans plausibly did give consent
To Tarquin's everlasting banishment.
SONNETS
TO . THE ONLIE BEGETTER OF
. . .

THESE INSVING SONNETS.

. .

MrW. H. ALL HAPPINESSE

. . .

AND THAT ETERNITIE

. . .

PROMISED.
BY.
OUR . POET
EVER-LIVING .

WISHETH.
THE WELL-WISHING. .

ADVENTURER IN. .

SETTING .

FORTH
T. T,

114
 SONNETS

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,

Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy thy sweet self too cruel.
foe, to
Thou that art now the
world's fresh ornament,
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding :

Pity the world, or else this glutton be,

To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.

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,

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 deserv'd thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer, This fair child of mine
'

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.
115
116 SONNETS

'
III

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest,

Now is the time that face should form another ;

Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,

Thou dost beguile the world,, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb

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
Callsback the lovely April of her prime :

So thou through windows of thine age shalt see

Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.
But if thou live, rememb'red not to be,
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.

FV

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

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 :

Then how, when nature thee to begone,

calls

What acceptable Audit canst thou leave ?

Thy unused beauty must be tomb'd with thee,
Which, used, lives th' executor to be.
 SONNETS 117

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 everywhere :

Then, were not summer's distillation left,

A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, 10

Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,

Nor it nor no remembrance what it was :

But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet,

Leese but their show ; their substance still lives sweet.

VI

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface

In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd :

Make sweet some vial ;

treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd.
That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That 's for thyself tobreed 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 : 3

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.
118 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,

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,
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 thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,

lov'st
Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy ?
If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,

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 ;

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 119

IX

Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye,

That thou consum'st thyself in single life ?
Ah if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
!

The world will wail thee, like a

makeless wife ;

The world be thy widow and still weep,

will
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 ;

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 murd'rous shame commits.

For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any,

Who for thyself art so unprovident.

Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belov'd of many,

But that thou none lov'st is most evident ;
For thou art so possess'd with murd'rous hate
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 lodg'd than gentle love ?

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.
120 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 ic :

Look, whom
she best endow'd, she gave the more ;
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish :

She carv'd thee and meant thereby

for her seal,
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

XII

When I do count the clock that tells the time,

And see the brave day sunk in hideous night ;

When I behold the violet past prime,

And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white ;

When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, 5

Which from heat did canopy the herd,
erst
And Summer's green all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard :

Then of thy beauty do I question make,

That thou among the wastes of time must go, 10
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow ;

And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence

Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
 SONNETS 121

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
Find no determination ; then you were
Yourself again after your self's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honour might uphold

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 judgment pluck ;

And yet methinks Ihave 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,

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
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.

122 SONNETS

XV

When I consider everything that grows

Holds in perfection but a little moment,

That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the Stars in secret influence comment :

When perceive that men as plants increase,

I

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,
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay,
To change your day of youth to sullied night ;

And war with Time for love of you,

all in

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 my barren rhyme ?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
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)
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
To give away your self keeps your self still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
 SONNETS 128

XVII

Who my verse in time to come,

will believe
If it werewith your most high deserts ?
fill'd

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
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,
And your true rights be termed 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 compare thee to a Summer's day ?

I

Thou more lovely and more temperate

art :

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,

And often iscomplexion dimm'd
his gold ;

And every fair sometime declines,

from fair

By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd :

But thy eternal Summer shall not fade,

Nor loose possession of that fair thou ow'st ;
Nor shall Death brag thou wand' rest 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.
124 SONNETS

XIX

Devouring Time, blunt thou the Lion's paws,

And make the earth devour her own sweet brood ;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce Tiger's jaws,,
And burn the long-liv'd Phoenix in her blood ;
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st,
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 ;
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,

Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth ;

A man in hue, all Hews in his controlling,

Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created ;

Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,

Till i<

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 125

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, s

With Sun and Moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven's air in this huge rendure hems.

O, let me, true in love, but truly write,

And then believe me, my love is as fair 10

As any mother's child, though not so bright

As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air :

Let them say more that like of hearsay well ;

I will not praise that purpose not to sell.

xxn

My glass shall not persuade me I am old,

So long as youth and thou are of one date ;
But when in thee time's furrows I behold,
Then look I death my days should expiate.
For all that beauty that doth cover thee,
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 ;
Bea ring 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 gav'st me thine, not to give back again.

126 SONNETS

XXIII

As an imperfect 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 i

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, i<

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 steel'd

Thy beauty's form in table of my heart ;

My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perspective it is best Painter's art.

For through the Painter must you see his skill,

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 i<

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 127

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
But as the Marygold 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,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd :

Then happy I, that love and am beloved

Where I may not remove nor be removed.

XXVI

Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage

Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,

To thee I send this written ambassage,
To witness duty, not to show my wit :

Duty so great,which wit so poor as mine 5

May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,

But that I hope some good conceit of thine

In thy soul's thought (all naked) will bestow it ;

Till whatsoever star that guides my moving

Points on me graciously with fair aspect 10

And puts apparel on my tatter' d loving,

To show me worthy of thy sweet respect :

Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee ;

Till then, not show my head where thou

mayst
prove me.
128 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,

Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see :

Save that my soul's imaginary sight

Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
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 eas'd by night,
But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd ?

And each, though enemies to cither's reign, 5

Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the Day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven : 10

So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night,

When sparkling stars twire riot thou gild'st the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer
And night doth nightly make grief's length seem
stronger.
 SONNETS 129

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,
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 think on thee, and then my state,
I

(Like to the Lark at break of day arising)

From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven's gate ;

For thy sweet love rememb'red 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,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight :

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
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 restor'd, and sorrows end.

I
130 SONNETS

XXXI

Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,

Which I by lacking have suppos6d 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
Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things removed that hidden in there lie.
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,

Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,

Who all their parts of me to thee did give ;

That due of many, now is thine alone :

Their images I lov'd I view in thee,

And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.

XXXII

If thou survivemy 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 bett'ring 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 :

4
Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, 10

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 131

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

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 ;

But he was but one hour mine ;

out, alack !

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 overtake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke ?

'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,

To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak
That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace :

Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;

Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss : i

The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief

To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
Ah ! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds.
132 SONNETS

XXXV

No more be griev'd 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,

Authorising thy trespass with compare,

Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins, more than their sins are :

For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense

Thy adverse party is thy Advocate
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,
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 ever more acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,
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 133

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,
Entituled in their 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
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 ; i

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.
134 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,
And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this separation I may give
That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone.
O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
Which time and thoughts so sweetly dost 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,

Icannot blame thee, for my love thou usest,

But yet be blamed, if thou this self deceivest
By wilful taste of what thy self refusest.
Ido forgive thy robb'ry, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty ;
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 135

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,
Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed ;

And when a woman

woos, what woman's son
Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed ?
Aye me but yet thou mightst my seat forbear,
!

And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth,

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 may it be said I lov'd 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,

SuiTring my friend for my sake to approve her.

If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,
And losing her, friend hath found that loss
my ; 10

Both each other, and I lose both twain,

find
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.

!
136 SONNETS

XLIII

When I wink, then do mine eyes best see,

most
For the day they view things unrespected ;
all

But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,

And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright, 5
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so !

How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made

By looking on thee in the living day ! 10

When dead night thy

in fairimperfect 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 ofmy 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
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.

But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time's leisure with my moan,

Receiving naught by Elements so slow

But heavy tears, badges of cither's woe.
 SONNETS 137

XLV

The other two, slight air, and purging fire,

Are both with thee, wherever I abide ;

The first my thought, the other my desire,

These present-absent with swift motion slide.
For when these quicker Elements are gone
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,
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, heart thy picture's sight would bar,

my
My heart, mine eye the freedom of that right.
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,
A closet never pierced with crystal eyes
But the defendant doth that plea deny
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
To side this title is impanneled
A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart,
And by determined
their verdict is

The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part :

As thus ; mine eye's due is thy outward part,

And my heart's right thy inward love of heart.
138 SONNETS

XLVII

Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,

Arid each doth good turns now unto the other :

When that mine eye

famish'd for a look,
is

Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,

With my love's picture then my eye doth feast
And to the painted banquet bids my heart ;
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest
And thoughts of love doth share a part
in his :

So, eitherby thy picture or my love,

Thyself away art present still with me ;
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 was I, when I took my way,

careful
Each under truest bars to thrust,
trifle

That to my use it might unused stay

From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust !

But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, 5

Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,
Thou, best of dearest and mine only care,
Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest,
Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, 10
Within the gentle closure of my breast,
From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part ;

And even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear,

For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.
 SONNETS 139

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

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,
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 seek, my weary travel's end,
I

Doth teach that ease and that repose to say

'
Thus far the miles are measur'd from thy friend !

The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,

Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know

His rider lov'd not speed, being made from thee :

The bloody spur cannot provoke him on

That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide ;

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.

140 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,
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, 3

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,
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,
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 141

LIU

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
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,
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
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,

Die to themselves. Sweet Roses do not so ;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made :

And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,

When that shall vade, my verse distils your truth.
142 SONNETS

LV

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments

Of Princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme ;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone besmear' d with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall Statues overturn, 5
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth ; your praise shall still find room, 10
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgment 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 all ay 'd,
To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might :

So, love, be thou although to-day thou fill

;

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 Int'rim like the Ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
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 143

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
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,
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,

Ishould in thought control your times of pleasure,
Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave,
Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure !

O, let me suffer, being at your beck, 5

Th' 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 10
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.

144 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,

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 ;
Whether we are mended, or whe'r 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,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
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 145

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 $
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenure of thy jealousy ?
O, no thy love, though much,, is not so great
! :

my love that keeps mine eye awake ;

It is 10

Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,

To play the watchman ever for thy sake :

For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,

From me far off, with others all too near.

LXII

Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye,

And all my soul, and all my every part ;

And for this sin there is no remedy,

It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
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,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read ;

Self so self-loving were iniquity.

'Tis thee, my self, that for myself I praise,

Painting my age with beauty of thy days.

146 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,

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,
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 have seen by Time's fell hand defaced

I

The proud cost of outworn buried age ;

rich
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage ;
When I have seen the hungry Ocean gain
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 ;
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 147

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
Against the wrackful 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 ?

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,
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,
And simple Truth miscall'd Simplicity,
And captive Good attending captain 111 :

Tired with these, from these would I be gone,

all

Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

148 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

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 ;

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 cheek the map of days outworn,

is his
When liv'd and died as flowers do now,
beauty
Before these bastard signs of fair were borne,
Or durst inhabit on a living brow ;
Before the golden tresses of the dead,
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,
Making no summer of another's green,
Robbing no old to dress hisbeauty new ;
And him as for a map doth Nature store,
To show false Art what beauty was of yore.
 SONNETS 149

LXIX

Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view,

Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend ;

All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due,

Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend.

Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown'd ; 5

But those same tongues that give thee so thine own,

In other accents do this praise confound
By seeing farther than the eye hath shown.
They look into the beauty of thy mind,
And that, in guess,they measure by thy deeds 10
;

Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes were kind,

To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds :

But why thy odour matcheth not thy show,

The soil is this, that thou dost common grow.

LXX

That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,

For slander's mark was ever yet the fair ;

The ornament of beauty is suspect,

A Crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
So thou be good, slander doth but approve
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 ;

Yet thy praise cannot be so thy praise,

this
To tie up envy evermore enlarged :

If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show,

Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.
150 SONNETS

LXXI

No longer mourn for me when I am dead,

Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell :

Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that writ it ; for I love you so,
That your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
I in

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,
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 liv'd 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 speak well of me untrue,
for love

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 151

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 nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

LXXIV

But be contented when that fell arrest

:

Without all bail shall carry me away,

My life hath in this line some interest,
Which for memorial still with thee shall stay.
When thou reviewest thou dost review
this,
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,
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.
152 SONNETS

LXXV

So are you to my thoughts as food to life,

Or as sweet-season'd showers are to theground ;

And for thepeace of you I hold such strife

As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found ;
Now proud as an enjoy er, and anon
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 ;

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 from variation or quick change ?

far

Why with the time do I not glance aside

To new-found methods and to compounds strange ?

Why write one, ever the same,

I still all

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 ;

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 153

LXXVII

Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,

Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste ;

Thevacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,

And of this book this learning mayst thou taste.
The wrinkles, which thy glass will truly show
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
Those children nurs'd, 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 pen hath got
Alien my use,
And under thee their poesy disperse.
Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing,
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 :

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.
154 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
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
From thy behaviour beauty doth he give
;

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

of you do write,
I

Knowing a better doth use your name,

spirit
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,

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 ;

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 155

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 men's eyes shall lie.
in
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, 10

And tongues to be your being shall rehearse

When all the breathers of this world are dead ;

You still shall live such virtue hath my pen

Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.

LXXXII

I grant thou wert not married to my Muse,

And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook
The dedicated words which writers use
Of their fair subject, blessing every book.
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,
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,
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.
156 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,

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 formy sin you did impute,
Which be most my glory, being dumb ;
shall
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 157

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 cry still

'
Amen
To every that able spirit affords
Hymn
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

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,
As victors of my silence cannot boast ;

I was not sick of any fear from thence :

But when your countenance fill'd

up his line,
Then lack'd I matter ; that enfeebled mine.
158 SONNETS

LXXXVII

Farewell ! thou art too dear for my possessing,

And enough thou know'st thy estimate
like :

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 ?
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 gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking ; i

So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,

Comes home on better judgment making.
again,
Thus have had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
I

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,
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 by this will be a gainer too ;

I

For bending all my loving

thoughts on thee,
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 159

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,
To set a form upon desired change,
As I '11 myself disgrace knowing thy will,
:

I and look strange

will acquaintance strangle ;

Be absent from thy walks and in my tongue

;

Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell,

Lest I, much profane, should do it wrong,
too
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 when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow,

not, 5
Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe,
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purpos'd 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.
160 SONNETS

XCI

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,

Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' 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,

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, i

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.

XCH

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,
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 ;

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 161

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,
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 ; i

Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be,

Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell.

How likeEves apple doth thy beauty grow,

If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show !

XCXY

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

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 is to the summer sweet,
flower
Though to itselfonly live and die,
it

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.
L
162 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 enclose !

That tongue that tells the story of thy days,

Making lascivious comments on thy sport,
Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise ;
Naming thy name, blesses an ill report.
O, what a mansion have those vices got,
Which for their habitationchose out thee,
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 lov'd of more and less :

Thou mak'st faults graces, that to thee resort.

As on the finger of a throned Queen
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 !

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 163

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 Lord's 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, they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer,

if

That leaves look pale, dreading the Winter 's near.

xcvin

From you have I been absent

in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim,
Hath a
put 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 10;

They were but sweet, but figures of delight,

Drawn you pattern of all those.
after you,
Yet seem'd Winter still, and, you away,
it

As with your shadow I with these did play.

164 .
SONNETS

XCIX

The forward violet thus did I chide :

Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love's breath ? The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed. 5

The Lily I condemned for thy hand,

And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
The Roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair ;

A third, nor rednor white, had stol'n of both, 10

And to his robb'ry 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.

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,
Dark'ning thy power to lend base subjects light ?

Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem

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 ;
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 165

CI

O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends

For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed ?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends ;

So dost thou too, and therein dignified.

Make answer, Muse wilt thou not haply say
:

'
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

;

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.

CM

My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming ;

I love not less, though less the show appear :

That love is merchandised 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 his pipe in growth of riper days :

Not that the summer pleasant now

is less

Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, 10

But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
Therefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue,
Because I would not dull you with my song.
166 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 !

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 ?
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,
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 ;

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 167

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, stillsuch, and ever so.
Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,

Still constant in a wondrous excellence ;

Therefore verse to constancy confined,
my
One thing expressing, leaves out difference.
'

Fair, kind, and true is all my argument,

'

'
'
and true varying to other words
Fair, kind, i ;

And in this change is my invention spent,

Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.
Fair, kind, and true/ have often liv'd alone,
'

Which three, till now, never kept seat in one.

cvi

When in the chronicle of wasted time

Isee 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,
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 ; i

And, for they look'd but with divining eyes,

They had not still enough your worth to sing :

For we, which now behold these present days,

Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
168 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, 3
And the sad Augurs mock their own presage ;

Incertainties now crown themselves assured,

And peace proclaims olives of endless age.
Now with the drops of this most balmy time
My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, 10

Since, spite of him, I '11 live in this poor rhyme,

While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes :
And thou in this shalt find thy monument,
When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.

cvin

What 's in the brain that ink may character,

Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit ?

What 's new to speak, what now 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 hallow'd thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case
Weighs not the dust and injury of age, 10
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page,
Finding the first conceit of love there bred
Where time and outward form would show it dead.
 SONNETS 169

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,

:

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,
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.

ex

Alas, 'tis have gone here and there,

true, I
And made myself a motley to the view,
Gor'd 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

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

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.
170 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,
And almost thence my nature is subdued
To what it works in, like the Dyer's hand :

Pity me then and wish I were renew'd ;

Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink
Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection ;

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.

cxn

Your love and pity doth th' 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 10
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 me thinks y' are dead.
 SONNETS 171

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

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 see the rud'st or gentlest sight,

if it

The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature,

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
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 flatt'ry in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up :

Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,

And to his palate doth prepare the cup :

If be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin,

it

That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.

172 SONNETS

cxv

Those lines that I before have writ do lie,

Even those that said I could not love you dearer :

Yet then my judgment knew no reason why

My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
But reckoning time, whose million'd accidents
Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of Kings,
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
Divert strong minds to th' course of alt'ring things :

Alas, why, fearing of Time's tyranny,

Might I not then say Now I love you best/
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 wand'ring bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love 's not Time's though rosy lips and cheeks
fool,
Within his bending sickle's compass come 10 ;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and
upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
 SONNETS 173

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-purchas'd right ;

That I have hoisted sail to all the winds

Which should transport me farthest from your sight.
Book both my wilfulness and errors down,
And on just proof surmise accumulate ; 10

Bring me within the level of your frown,

But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate ;

Since my did strive to prove

appeal says I

The constancy and virtue of your love.

CXVIII

Like as, to make our appetites more keen,

With eager compounds we our palate urge ;
As, to prevent our maladies unseen,
We sicken to shun sickness when we purge ;
Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness, 5
To bitter sauces did frame my feeding ;
I

And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness

To be diseas'd, ere that there was true needing.
Thus policy in love, t' anticipate
The illsthat 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.
174 SONNETS

CXIX

What I drunk of Siren tears,

potions have
Distill' dfrom limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw myself to win !

What wretched errors hath my heart committed,, 5

Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never !

How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted

In the distraction of this madding fever !

O benefit of ill now I find true

!

That better is
by evil still made better ; 10

And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,

Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.
So I return rebuked to my content
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.

cxx

That you were once unkind befriends me now,

And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken
As I by yours, y' have 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 rememb'red
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,
And soon to you, as you to me, then tend' red
The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits !

But that, your trespass, now becomes a fee ;

Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.

 SONNETS 175

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

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 :

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.

cxxn

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

Have faculty by nature to subsist ;

Tilleach 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 ;
Therefore to give them from me was I bold,
To trust those tables that receive thee more
To keep an adjunct to remember thee
Were to import forgetfulness in me.
176 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

What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
And rather make them borne to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wond'ring at the present nor the past,
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
from accident
far ;

It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls

Under the blow of thralled discontent,
Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls :

It fears not policy, that Heretic,

Which works on leases of short-numb' red hours,
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 liv'd for crime.
 SONNETS 177

cxxv

Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy,

With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Which proves more short than waste or ruining ?
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent
For compound sweet ; foregoing simple savour,
Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent ?

No, let me
be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free, i

Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art,

But mutual render, only me for thee.
Hence, thou suborn'd Informer a true soul !

When most impeach'd stands least in thy control.

CXXVI

O thou, my lovely Boy, who in thy power

Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour ;

Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st

Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st !

If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,

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 :

Her Audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be,

And her Quietus is to render thee.

M
178 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,

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
At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack,
Sland'ring 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 when thou gently sway'st
fingers,
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap 5
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand !

To be so tickled, they would change their state

And situation with those
dancing chips, 10

O'er whom
thy fingers walk with gentle gait
Making dead wood more blest than living lips :

Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,

Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss
 SONNETS 179

CXXIX

Th' expense of Spirit in a waste of shame

Is lust in action ; and till action, lust
Is perjur'd,murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust ;

Enjoy'd no sooner, but despised straight, ;

Past reason hunted ; and no sooner had,

Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad :

Mad in pursuit, and in possession so ;

Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme ; n

A bliss in proof,
and proved, a very woe ;

Before, a joy proposed ; behind, a dream.

All this the world well knows ; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

cxxx

My Mistress' eyes are nothing like the Sun ;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red ;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun ;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen Roses damask'd, red and white,

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 ;

I never saw a goddess go

grant I ;

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.
180 SONNETS

CXXXI

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,

As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel
For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart
Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
Yet in good faith some say that thee behold,
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,
One on another's neck, do witness bear
Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place.
In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,
And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.

cxxxn

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
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

To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will Iswear beauty herself is black
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.
 SONNETS 181

CXXXIII

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan

For that deep wound itgives 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,

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
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 myself am mortgaged to thy will,
I

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,

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,
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.

182 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,
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 inabundance addeth to his store ;

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,

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 stores' account I one must be ;

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 183

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 judgment 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, n
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.

cxxxvm

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,
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 ?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told :

Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,

And in our faults by lies we flattered be.
184 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 lov'st elsewhere but in my sight, ; 5

Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside :

What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy might

Ismore 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, 10

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 : 10

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 thy proud heart go
wide.
 SONNETS 185

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 pleas'd 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, 10
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.

CXLI I

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,

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 lov'st those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee :

Root pity thy heart, that when it grows

in
'

Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.

If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide.

By self-example mayst thou be denied !

186 SONNETS

CXLIII

Lo ! as a careful housewife runs to catch

One of her feathered 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,
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 ;
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind :

So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will,

If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.

CXLIV

Two loves I have of comfort and despair,

Which like two spirits do suggest me still :

The better angel is a man right fair,

The worser spirit a woman colour' d ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
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 angel be turn'd fiend
my
I
Suspect may, yet not directly tell ;
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 187

CXLV

Those lips that Love's own hand did make

'
Breath'd forth the sound that said '
I hate
To me that languish'd for her sake ;

But when she saw my woeful state,

Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus anew to greet ;
'
e
I hate she alter'd with an end,
That follow 'd it as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a fiend
From heaven to hell is flown away ;
' '
I hate from hate away she threw,
And saved '
my life, saying not you/

CXLVI

Poorsoul, the centre of my sinful earth

My sinful earth these rebel powers 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 ; 10

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.
188 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,
Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the Physician to my love, 5

Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,

Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which Physic did except.
Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,

And frantic-mad with evermore unrest ; 10

My thoughts and my discourse as mad men'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 judgment 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 O, how can Love's eye be true,

it ?

That is so vex'd with watching and with tears ? 10

No marvel then, though I mistake my view ;

The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.

O cunning Love with tears thou keep'st me blind,
!

Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.

 SONNETS 189

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 ?

On whom frown'st thou do fawn upon

that I ?

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 so
proud thy service to despise,
is

When allbest doth worship thy defect,

my
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes ?
But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind ;

Those that can see thou lov'st, 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,
That in the very refuse of thy deeds
There such strength and warrantise of skill
is

That, in mind, thy worst all best exceeds ?

my
Who taught thee how to make me love thee more,
The more I hear and see just cause of hate ? ]

O, though I love what others do abhor,

With others thou shouldst not abhor my state :

If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me,

More worthy I to be belov'd of thee.
190 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
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,
:

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,
When I break twenty ? I am
perjur'd most ;
For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee,
And all honest faith in thee is lost
my :

For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness,

Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy,
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 191

CLIII

Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep :

A maid of Dian's this advantage found,

And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground ;
Which borrow'd from this holy fire of love
A dateless lively heat, still to endure.
And grew men prove
a seething bath, which yet

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 ;

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, 10

Growing a bath and healthful remedy

For men diseas'd but I, my Mistress' thrall,
;

Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,

Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT

FROM off a hill whose concave womb re-worded

A plaintful story from a sist'ring vale,
t' attend this double voice accorded,
My spirits
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, 8

Which fortified her visage from the Sun,

Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw
The carcass of a beauty spent and done :

Time had not scythed all that youth begun, 12

Nor youth all quit but, spite of heaven's fell rage,

;

Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age.

in

Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, 15

Which on it had conceited characters,
Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine
That season'd woe had pelleted in tears,
And often reading what contents it bears ; 19
As often shrieking undistinguished woe,
In clamours of all size, both high and low.
195
196 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
IV

Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride, 22

As they did batt'ry to the spheres intend ;

Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied

To th' orbed earth sometimes they do extend
;

Their view right on ; anon their gazes lend 26

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, 29

Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride ;
For some, untuck'd, descended her sheav'd hat,
Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside ;
Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, 33
And true to bondage would not break from thence,
Though slackly braided in loose negligence.

VI

A thousand favours from a maund she drew 36

Of amber, crystal, and of bedded 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 Monarchs' hands that let not bounty fall
Where want cries some, but where excess begs all.

VII

Of folded schedules had she many a one, 43

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, 47

With sleided silk feat and affectedly
Enswath'd, and seal'd to curious secrecy.
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 197

VIII

These often bath'd she in her fluxive eyes, 50

And often kiss'd, and often gave 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 !

54
This said, in top of rage the lines she rents,
Big discontent so breaking their contents.

IX

A reverend man
that grazed his cattle nigh 57
Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew
Of Court, of City, and had let go by
The swiftest hours observed as they flew
Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew : 61

And, privileged by age, desires to know

In brief the grounds and motives of her woe.

So slides he down upon his grained bat, 64

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 68

Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage,
'Tis promised in the charity of age.

Father,' she says, though in me you behold

' '
71
The injury of many a blasting hour,
Let it not tell your judgment I am old ;

Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power :

I might as yet have been a spreading flower, 75

Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied
Love to myself and to no Love beside.
198 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
XII

'
But, woe is me ! too early I attended 78
A youthful suit was to gain my grace
it

Of one by nature's outwards so commended,

That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face :

Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place ; 82

And when in his fair parts she did abide,
She was new lodg'd and newly Deified.

XIII

'
His browny locks did hang in crooked curls ; 85
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, 89

For on his visage was in little drawn
What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn.

XIV
'
Small show of man was yet upon his chin ; 92
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 ; 96

And nice affections wavering stood in doubt
If best were as it was, or best without.

xv
'
His qualities were beauteous as his form, 99
For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free ;

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. 103
His rudeness so with his authorised youth
Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 199

XVI
'
Well could he ride, and often men would say 106
" That horse his mettle from his rider takes :

Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,

What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop
"
he makes !

And controversy hence a question takes, no

Whether the horse by him became his deed,
Or he his manege by th' well-doing steed.

1
But quickly on this side the verdict went :
113
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, 117

Can for additions ; yet their purposed trim
Pieced not his grace, but were all graced by him.

XVIII
'
So on the tip of his
subduing tongue 120
All kind 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, 124

He had the dialect and different skill,

Catching all passions in his craft of will :

XIX
'
That he did in the general bosom reign 127
Of young, of old, and sexes both enchanted
To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain
In personal duty, following where he haunted :

Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted, 131

And, dialogu'd him what he would say,

for
Ask'd their own wills and made their wills obey.
200 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
XX

Many there were that did his picture get,

'
134
To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind ;

Like fools that in th' imagination set

The goodly objects which abroad they find
Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign'd; 138
And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them
Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them :

XXI
'
So many have, that never touch' d his hand, 141

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, 145
Threw my affections in hischarmed power,
Reserv'd the stalk and gave him all my flower.

XXII
'
Yet did I not, as some my equals did, 148
Demand of him, nor being desired yielded ;

Finding myself in honour so forbid,

With safest distance I mine honour shielded :

Experience for me many

bulwarks builded 152
Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil

Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.

XXIII

But, ah, who ever shunn'd by precedent

'
155
The destin'd 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 ; 159
For when we rage, advice is often seen
By blunting us to make our wits more keen.
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 201

XXIV
'
Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood, 162
That we must curb it upon others' proof :

To be forbid the sweets that seem so good,

For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.
O appetite, from judgment stand aloof! 166
The one a palate hath that needs will taste,
" It
Though Reason weep, and cry is
thy last."

XXV
'
For further could say "This man's untrue,"
I 169
And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling ;
Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew,
Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling ;

Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling ; 173

Thought characters and words merely but art,

And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.

XXVI
'
And long upon these terms I held my city, 176
Till thus he gan besiege me " Gentle maid,
:

Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,

And be not of my holy vows afraid :

That 's to ye sworn to none was ever said ;

180
For feasts of love I have been call'd unto,
Till now did ne'er invite, nor never vow.

XXVII
' " All offences that abroad
my you see 183
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, 188

By how much of me their reproach contains.

202 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
XXVIII
"
Among the many that mine eyes have seen,
'
190
Not one whose flame my heart so much as warmed,
Or my affection put to th' smallest teen,
Or any of my leisures ever charmed :

Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed ; 194

Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free,
And reign' d, commanding in his monarchy.

XXIX
" Look
here, what tributes wounded fancies sent me,
'

Of palid pearls and rubies red as blood ; 198

Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me

Of grief and blushes, aptly understood
In bloodless white and the encrimson'd mood ; 201

Effects of terror and dear modesty,

Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.

XXX
' "
And, lo, behold these talents of their hair, 204
With twisted metal amorously impleach'd,
I have receiv'd from
many a several fair,
Their kind acceptance weepingly beseech'd,
With the annexions of fair gems enrich' d, 208

And deep-brain'd sonnets that did amplify

Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality :

XXXI
1 " The Diamond, why, 'twas beautiful and hard, 211

Whereto his invised properties did tend ;

The deep-green Em'rald, in whose fresh regard
Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend ;

The heaven-hued Sapphire and the Opal blend 215

With objects manifold each several stone,
:

With wit well blazon'd, smiled or made some moan.

 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 203

XXXII
' " these trophies of affections hot,
all 218
Lo,
Of pensiv'd and subdued desires the tender,
Nature hath charged me that I hoard them not,
But yield them up where I myself must render ;

That is, to you, my origin and ender : 222

For these, of force, must your oblations be,

Since I their altar, you enpatron me.

XXXIII
' "
O, then, advance of yours that phraseless hand, 225
Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise ;

Take all these similes to your own command,

Hollow'd with sighs that burning lungs did raise ;

What me your minister, for you obeys, 229

Works under you ; and to your audit comes
Their distract parcels in combined sums.

xxxiv
' " me from a Nun.
Lo, this device was sent 232
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, 236

But kept cold distance, and did thence remove,
To spend her living in eternal love.

XXXV
" O my sweet, what labour
'
But, is 't to leave 239
The thing we have not, mast' ring what not strives,
Playing the place which did no form receive,
Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves ?

She that her fame so to herself contrives, 243

The scars of battle 'scapeth by the flight,
And makes her absence valiant, not her might.
204 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
XXXVI
"
O, pardon me, in that my boast is true
'
:
246
The accident which brought me to her eye
Upon the moment did her force subdue,
And now she would the caged cloister fly :

Religious love put out Religion's eye :

250
Not to be tempted, would she be immured,
And now, to tempt all, liberty procured.

XXXVII
" How me
mighty then you O, hear
'
are, tell !
253
The broken bosoms that to me belong
Have emptied all their fountains in my well,
And mine I pour your Ocean all among :

Istrong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong, 257

Must for your victory us all congest,
As compound love to physic your cold breast.

XXXVIII .

' " had power to charm a sacred Sun,

My parts 260

Who, disciplin'd, ay, dieted in grace,

Believ'd her eyes when they t' assail begun,
All vows and consecrations giving place :

O most potential love vow, bond, nor space,

! 264
In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine,
For thou art all, and all things else are thine.

XXXIX
'" When thou
impressest, what are precepts worth 267
Of stale example ? When thou wilt inflame,
How coldly those impediments stand forth
Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame !

Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense,

'gainst shame, 271
And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears,
The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears.
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 205

XL
' " Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, 274

Feeling break, with bleeding groans they pine ;

it

And supplicant their sighs to you extend,

To leave the batt'ry that you make 'gainst mine,
Lending soft audience to my sweet design, 278
And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath
That shall prefer and undertake my troth."

XLI
'
This said, his wat'ry eyes he did dismount, 281
Whose then were levell'd on my face
sights till ;

Each cheek a river running from a fount

With brinish current downward flow'd apace :

O, how the channel to the stream gave grace 285 !

Who glazed with Crystal gate the glowing Roses

That flame through water which their hue encloses.

XLII
<
O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies 288
In the small orb of one particular tear !

But with the inundation of the eyes

What rocky heart to water will not wear ?
What breast so cold that is not warmed here ? 292
O cleft effect ! cold modesty, hot wrath :

Both fire, from hence, and chill extincture, hath.

XLIII
'
For, lo, his passion, but an art of craft, 295
Even there resolv'd 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, 299
All melting though our drops this difFrence bore,
;

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

206 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
XLIV
1
In him a plenitude of subtle matter, 302

Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives,

Of burning blushes, or of weeping water,
Or swounding paleness and he takes and leaves,
;

In cither's aptness, as it best deceives, 306

To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes,
Or to turn white and swound at tragic shows :

XLV
1
That not a heart which in his level came 309
Could 'scape the hail of his all-hurting aim,
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 313;

When he most burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury,

He preach'd pure maid, and prais'd cold chastity.

XLVI
'
Thus merely with the garment of a Grace 316
The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd ;
That th' 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.

XLVII
'
O, that infected moisture of his eye, 323
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 ow'd, 327
Would yet again betray the fore-betray'd,
And new pervert a reconciled mairl !
'
NOTES
 NOTES
VENUS AND ADONIS
I. The Text. The Text is taken from the First Quarto, 1593, as re
produced in facsimile by William Griggs from the unique original in
the Bodleian Library, Oxford (Shakspere Quarto Facsimiles, No. 12).
Spelling and punctuation have been modernised generally, but not
invariably, in accordance with the use of The Cambridge Shakespeare.
In every other case of a departure from the Quarto text the fact is
noted. This Quarto, according to the Editors of The Cambridge
'
Shakespeare, is printed with remarkable accuracy, doubtless from the
author's own MS.' The Variorum Shakespeare of 1821, Shakespeare's
Poems (Kelmscott), and The Poems of William Shakspeare (Robert Bell)
have also been used for the Text and Notes. Throughout the Notes
the First Quarto is referred to as Q.

II .The Use of the Apostrophe as a Guide to the Metrical Pronunciation .

In this the practice of The Cambridge Shakespeare has not been followed.
'
'
In the First Quartos of Venus, Lucrece, and The Sonnets a mute e is
omitted, and an apostrophe substituted, so uniformly as to reveal
the practice of the author, which, indeed, was the practice of his age.
'
When, therefore, in the Quartos the e' is not omitted from the
word which furnishes the rhyme, that word must be pronounced as a
'
'
dissyllable, e.g. His brawny sides with hairy bristles armed ( Venus,
"
625).
'
To retain the " e when it is an essential part of the verb and
to substitute an apostrophe where the
" e " is a
part of the inflection,'
in accordance with the use of the Cambridge Editors, does not obviate
f
all ambiguity. Such words as 'lovest' and owest' are not always
monosyllabic, even in modern poetry. Thus Shelley :

'
I love all that thou lovest,
Spirit of Delight !

The fresh Earth in new leaves drest

'
:

'
and, in Shakespeare's day, the legitimate auricular figures of adding and
rabbating' (The Arte of English Poexic, Io89)gave a wider licence. The
 210 NOTES
Elizabethans added and suppressed syllables, shifted the accent, and
varied the spelling of words with a freedom accorded by contemporary
critics sometimes ... for pleasure to give a better sound, sometimes
'

upon necessitie' (Ibid.). But they were ever careful to indicate what
they had done, and to ensure the correct delivery of their lines. It
would be awkward to omit the mute e e' where such omission must
suggest an unpleasing mispronunciation; for example, to write, as
' '
'
they did, plac'd for placed,' when that word scans as a monosyllable.
In order, therefore, to avoid such phonetic suggestions, and at the
same time to retain that certainty of correct delivery which their
method ensured, the practice adoped in this Edition is (1) to accent :

'
ambiguous e 's that are to be sounded ; (2) to print without an accent
'
mute e 's, the omission of which would suggest a mispronunciation ;
f f
(3) to omit all other mute e's, substituting an apostrophe. The
wrong ranging the accent of a sillable ... as to say gratious for
'

grdtious (Arte of English Poesie) has also been indicated by an accent ;

'
and your swallowing or eating up of one letter by another' (Ibid.),
by its omission and an apostrophe, e.g. Venus and Adonis, 1. 668 :

' '
That tremble at th' imagination :

and Sonnet cxxxv. 7 :

'
Shall will in others seem right gracious.'

III. The Use of Capitals. See Note III. on Lucrece, and Note V.
on the Sonnets. The practice therein described has been followed in
Venus and Adonis.

IV. Date of the Composition of Venus and Adonis. See Notes on

11. 397, 507-8-9-10.

V. Notes on the Text.

' '
3. Rose cheek'd Adonis ; cf. Marlowe's Hero and Leander :

'
The men wealthy Sestos every yeare,
of
For his sake whom their goddess held so deare,
Rose-cheek' d Adonis, kept a solemue fast.'

9. Stain, injury. Cf. Sonnet cix. :

'
So that myself bring water for thy stain.'

14. rein, raine Q. here and passim.

19. satiety, sacietie Q.
26. The precedent (president Q. ) of pith and livelihood. Cf. Antony
and Cleopatra, i. ii. 53 ; Othello, in. iv. 36. The idea occurs in Ban-
dello's novel of Romeo and Juliet.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 211
'
51. hairs, heares Q. rhyming with teares.'
53. miss, misse Q. Malone suggests 'miss for amiss. Cf. Sonnet
xxxv. :

'

Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss.'

In tracing the meaning of obsolete words I have availed myself of

an interesting work, ' HFEMGN EI2 TA2 FAG22A2 id est Ductor | |

in Linguas The Guide Into Tongues an etymological dictionary in

| \

'
eleven languages,' published By the Industry and Labor of John
'

Minshaeus, and dedicated to James i., anno 1617. Among the sub
scribers were Sir Francis Bacon, the Earls of Pembroke and South

ampton, the Duke of Lennox, etc. I am indebted to Dr. Gatty for

the loan of his copy, which once belonged to James i. In it two
meanings are given for the verb to misse to MISSE, or erre :vide . . .

to ERBB, or WANDER, b. to MISSE, or want vide to WANT. The noun

. . .

in this passage is from the first meaning of the verb = error.

56. Tires, from French tirer, a term of falconry used of a hawk

tearing its food. Cf. Jouson's Poetaster, iv. 1 :

' '
Horace. What, and be tired on by yond vulture !

63. prey, pray Q.

68. fast'ned, fastned Q.
78. best, brest in Q. 11, Q. 12, Q. 13. Lintott and Gildon, 'Her
'
breast.
84. comptless, comptlesse Q. = inestimable.
86. dive-dapper, didapper, dabchick, from its habit of diving : the
littlegrebe (Podiceps minor. )
90. winks, here akin to wince, formerly also winch, from O. Fr.

guinchir, guenchir, to start aside, no doubt sometimes written winchir :

from O. G. wenken, to start aside. Imp. Die. , cf. blink, blench.

110. Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain. Malone refers to
Ronsard :

'Les muses lierent un jour

De chaines de Roses Amour.'
Odes, bk. iv. 23 (ed. 1623).

Richelet points out that the Ode is taken from Anacreon, published in
France, 1554. Sidney, Daniel, and Dray ton, later Wither and
Herrick, discover unmistakable traces of Ronsard's influence. Ronsard
travelled in England. Queen Elizabeth gave him a diamond, com
paring its water to the purity of his verse. Puttenham, Arte of
'
English Poesie, 1589, denounces plagiarisms from Ronsard Another :

of reasonable good facilitie in translation finding certaine of the hymnes

212 NOTES
of Pyndarus arid of Anacreoris Odes very well translated by
. . .

Rounsard, the French Poet . . . comes our minion and translates

the same out of French into English but doth so impudently . . .

robbe the French Poet both of his prayse and also of his French
Termes, that I cannot so much pittie him as be angry with him for his
injurious dealing.'
114. mast' ring, maistring Q.
131-2. Fair flowers that are not gather d in their prime
Rot, and consume themselves in little time :
an echo of Ronsard's reiterated maxim :

Je vous envoye un bouquet que ma main

'

Vient de trier de ces fleurs epanies ;

Qui ne les eust a ce vespre cueillies,
Cheutes a terre elles fussent demain.
Cela vous soit un exemple certain
Que vos beautez, bien qu' elles soient fleuries,
En peu de temps seront toutes flaitries,
Et comme fleurs, periront tout soudain.' 1560.

Ronsard made this theme his own, but it has ever appealed to poets.
Before Ronsard, Wyatt had written :

'
What vaileth the flower
To stand still and wither,
If no man it savour
It serves only for sight,
And f adeth towards night
'

and, long before Wyatt, Ovid :

'
Nee violae semper, nee hiantia lilia florent,
Et riget amissa spina relicta rosa.'

137-8. for thee . . abhor me. The rhyme is imperfect.

.

151. Primrose, Primrose Q. See Note III. (5), Lucrece.

177. tired = attired. Boswell.
184-5. Like . . .
Souring, Likd ... So wring, Q.
191. hairs, heares Q. rhyming with c teares,' as above, 1. 51.
204. unkinnd, unkind Q. 'That is, unnatural. Kind and
'
nature were formerly synonymous MALONE. But unkind, 1. 187, is
spelt unkinde, Q., whilst here we have unkind although rhyming to
minde. I am persuaded
by the sense of the couplet, and specially by
the but :

'
O had thy mother borne so hard a minde,
She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind '
:
 VENUS AND ADONIS 213
that the not the adjective but a past participle, which would
word is

now be spelt unkinned, without offspring, cf. :

Unfathered heirs and loathly births of nature.'

'

2 Henry IV., iv. iv. 122.

'
But hope of orphans and unfathered fruit.'
Sonnet xcvn.

The poet, probably, played on the double meaning. Cf. Hamlet :

'
A little more than kin and less than kind.'

'
205. What am I
that thou shouldst contemn me this ? Steevens I :

without to the exactness of the it should read

suppose, regard rhyme,
thus.' Malone interprets :'
That thou shouldst contemptuously
refuse this favour that I ask.'
213. Statue, statue Q. Cf. Sonnet LV. 5, where the word is printed
in italics. It was but newly accepted and occurs four times in the

Plays as statua. See Note III. (8), Lucrece.

220. judge, ludge Q. See Note III. (1), Lucrece.
222. intendments = intentions. Cf. As You Like It, i. i. :

Either you shall stay him from his intendment or brook such disgrace well
'

as he shall run into.'

'But fear the main intendment of the Scot.' Henry V., i. ii.

'Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing.'

Othello, iv. ii.

'
But I spying his intendment, discharged my petronel in his bosom.'
JONSON, Every Mem in his Humour.

229. Fondling, she saith,

'
Since . The Cambridge has :' Fond
. .

'
ling/ she saith, since . . . But the word is descriptive of Venus'
action, not a term of endearment applied to Adonis.
231 and 239. deer, deare Q. play upon words. A
240. rouse, a term of art in venery. Guillim in A Display of Heraldrie,
2nd Ed., 1632; Enlarged by the Author himselfe in his lifetime:
Together with his owne Addition of explaining the Termes of Hawking
and Hunting, lays down in detail f apt termes of Hunting pertaining
'
both to Beasts of Venery and of Chase :

Dislodge Bucke
Start Hare
'
You shall say un-Kennell }
the <
Foxe
Rowse Hart
Bowlt L Conie.'
 214 NOTES
, 257. remorse = compunction, tenderness, pity.
'
If soyour heart were touched with that remorse
As mine to him.' Measure for Measure, n. ii.

Curse on th' unpard'ning prince, whom tears can draw

'

To no remorse.' DBYDEN.
260-1. jennet . . .
courser, lennet . . .
Courser, Q. See Note III.

(4), Lucrece.
272. compass 'd = arch'd.
(
A
compass'd ceiling is a phrase yet in
'

use. MALONE. Troilus and Cressida, i. 2: 'She came to him the

other day in the compass'd window,' i.e. the bow window. STEEVENS.
272. stand. This verb is governed by mane, which, as composed of
many hairs, is used in the plural.
'
279. curvets, a term of the
manege, the ground of all high airs,'
is
generally from French courbette, but more properly,
derived
according to ancient manuals on horsemanship, from Italian corvetta
=
a curvet ; corvo = a raven. The horse was made to rear and prance for
ward with his hind legs together, and this action was likened to the
hopping of a raven. The Guide into Tongues, 1617 (see note on 1. 53),
gives : to CURVET, or praunce. Italian, corvettare.
The manege seems to have originated in Italy, the French word
being derived from the Italian maneggio, a riding-school.
279. leaps, rhyming with steps. The word is still pronounced
' '

leps in Ireland.
284. holla. 'This seems to havebeen formerly a term of the
As You Like "
manege. So, in holla to thy tongue, I pr'ythee
It, Cry :

it curvets
unseasonably." See Cotgrave's French Dictionary, "Hola,
'

interjection. Enough, soft, soft no more of that if you love me."

;

Thus Malone. But the term seems, before it entered the manege, to
'
have hailed from the Champ Clos. Littre quotes ' la pluie fit le holla
[entre des combattants], D'Aub., Hist., i. 289. Charles D'Orleans,
Si, lui dis je : mon cueur hola
' '-
bidding his heart be still, wrote : !

Chanson, li. Owing to modern pronunciation, and a lax use resulting

from it in literature, 'Holla' is often confounded with 'Halloo,' from
the French Haler=to halloo on hounds. Its sense is exactly the

opposite,and survives, I am told, in a street cry '

Stop-thief. Stop- :

thief. Holla! =
Holla! Holla!' Holla stop, as in the pleasant
' '
Elizabethan ditty, Holla, my Fancy, whither wilt thou stray ? Sir
Walter Scott places the two expressions, accurately, in the mouth of
' "
the Earl of Huntinglen Ho la," said the Earl of Huntinglen,
:

"halt there"' and, in the same 'I should love well to

passage:
make the oaks of my old forest of Dalgarno ring once more with
halloo, and horn, and hound.' The Fortunes of Nigel.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 215
299. horse, Horse Q. See Note III. (4), Lucrece.

To bid the wind a base = to challenge the

'
303.
'
wind for speed. Cf.

Two Gentlemen of Verona, i. ii. 97:

'Indeed I bid the base for Proteus.'

And Marlowe :

'
We will find comfort, money, men, and friends,
Ere long to bid the English King a base.'

From the game base, prisoner's base, or county base as it was originally
called. Cf. Cymbeline, v. 3 :
'
Lads more like to run
The county base, than to commit such slaughter.'
'
So ran they all as they had been at bace.'
SPENSER, Faery Queen, v. viii.

304. whe'r, where Q= whether. Cf. Sonnet LIX. 11, Q:

'Whether we are mended, or where better they.'

So, in King John (n. i.

166) :

'
Now shame upon thee whe'r he does or no
'
:

and in a poem by G. Turberville, 1567 :

'
I doubt where Paris would have chose
Dame Venus for the best.' MALONE.

314. vails = lowers. French avaler, from Latin ad; vallis. Cf.
Merchant of Venice, i. i. :

'Vailing her high top lower than her ribs.'

322. horse, Horse Q.

331. oven, Oven Q.
335. the heart's attorney =the tongue. Cf. Richard 777. , iv. iv. :

'Why should calamity be full of words ?

Windy attorneys to their client woes.'

343. wistly= wistfully.

345. hue, hew :
Q
the usual spelling. Cf. Sonnet xx. :
'
A man
in hew.'
354. new-falfn, new falne Q.
359-60. dumb play . . . Chorus-like. An illustration from the
Dumb-Show which preceded and the Chorus which commented on a
Play.
363. ivory, luorie Q. alabaster, allablaster Q.
216 NOTES
376. steel'd, steeld Q. Cf. Sonnet xxiv. 1, Q. :

'
Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath steeld

Thy beauties forme in table of my heart.'

397.
'
Who sees his true-love in her naked bed.' The phrase naked '

bed
'
is of interest. Itoccurs in the Mirror for Magistrates '
When :

in my naked bed my limbs I lay,' but its frequency in the works of

Shakespeare's play-writing contemporaries is due to their derision of
a line, Jeronimo or Hieronymo, n. v. :

'What outcry calls me from my naked bed.'

which was constantly ridiculed by Jonson and others on account of
'

this phrase. The first Jeronymo ' was acted by Lord Strange's men
'
[Shakespeare's Company] at the Rose twenty-two times in the year
] 592' (Fleay). This echo may therefore suggest that Shakespeare wrote
Venus and Adonis not long before its publication (1593). We know
from Dekker's Satiromastix that Jonson ' took mad leronimo's part,'
when he ' ambled by a play-waggon.' But he did not admire the play.
In Cynthia's Revels he hits at the ' civet-wit' in the audience, who { prunes
his mustaccio, lisps, and, with some score of affected oaths, swears
down that about him " that the old was
all sit :
Hieronymo, as it first

acted, was the only best, and judiciously penn'd play of Europe."'
416. Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth. Cf. Henry Con
stable's Sheepheard's Song of Venus and Adonis :

'
I am now too
young
To be wonne by beauty ;

Tender are my yeeres,

I am yet a bud.'
421. You hurt my hand with wringing. Cf. ibid. :

'
Thou wringest mee too hard,
Pre-thee, let me goe.'
429. Mermaid's, Marmaides Q.
430. before; .
bearing, before,
. .
bearing, Q.; before, . . . . . .

'
bearing : Malone and modern editions. The sense seems to be I had
my load before ; (but I am) now press'd (down) with bearing, melodious
discord,' etc. etc.
433-450. Cf. Chapman's Ovid's Banquet of Sense (1595), in which
Ovid discourses to Corinna (Julia) of 'Auditus, Olfactus, Visus, Gustus,
Tactus.' The Argument.
=
456. flaws sudden gusts. Cf. Hamlet, v. i. :
c
Should patch a
'
wall to expel the winter's flaw.
'
The flaw-blown sleet.' KEATS.
'What flaws and whirles of weather.'
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, Pilgrim, in. vi.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 217
466. bankrupt, bankrout Q.
494. Ocean, Ocean Q. See Note III. (6), Lucrece.
500. shrewd,shrowd Q. ; shrewd Q. 3.
f
507. verdure, verdour Q The poet evidently alludes to a practice
:

of his own age, when it was customary, in time of the plague, to strew
the rooms of every house with rue and other strong-smelling herbs, to
prevent infection.' MALONE.

508-9-10. 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.

This vivid allusion to the Plague may give a clue to the date of the
poem's composition. It is more than improbable that Shakespeare
should have written thus at Stratford of the Plague and of the excite
ment it caused. He refers to the Plague in London, where it nearly
affected him as an actor, affording the City authorities their stock

pretext for prohibiting plays, to which they objected in deed on

puritanical grounds. Fleay quotes one of their arguments in 1575 :

(
To play in plague-time increases the plague by infection to play out :

of plague-time calls down the plague from God.' Now in 1586 there
seems to have been a visitation, but too slight to call forth such a
comment from the poet, even supposing he had then reached London,
which is doubtful. In 1592, however, the theatres were closed on
account of the Plague from July to December, and the Michaelmas
term was kept at Hertford (Stow, p. 765, cited by Fleay, History of the
Stage, p. 94). It is probable, therefore, that Shakespeare wrote the
poem during the enforced idleness of the second half of the year
1592 ; and this falls in with the suggestion (supra) that the phrase
naked bed echoes a line in the play acted by his company twenty-two
times in that year.
515. slips = counterfeit coin. Cf. Romeo and Juliet :

'
What counterfeit did I give you ?

Mercutio. The slip, sir, the slip.'

'
521. Say, for non-payment that the debt should double : The poet was
thinking of a conditional bond's becoming forfeited for non-payment ;
inwhich case the entire penalty (usually the double of the
principal
sum lent by the obligee) was formerly recoverable at law.' MALONE.
545. He, Ho Q.
561. roe, Roe Q. See Note III. (4), Lucrece.
565-7. temp ring . . .
venturing, tempring . . .
ventring Q. an
imperfect rhyme.
 218 NOTES
589-90. whereat a sudden pale,
Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose.

Cf. Sheepheard's Song of Venus and Adonis :

'
At the name of boare
Venus seemed dying :

Deadly-colour'd pale
Roses overcast.'

and Rape ofLucrece:

'
First red as roses that on lawn we lay,
Then white as lawn, the roses took away.'

'
598. manege, mannage Q. ; the context shows that manege,' not
1
manage,' was intended. Cf. A Lover's Complaint, 111-12 :

'
Whether the horse by him became his deed,
Or he his manege, by th' well-doing steed.'

(Manege is printed mannad'g in Q. 1609.)

600. clip embrace.

601. Even so, thus in Q. Modern editions put ' even as,' with a
comma after e maw in 1. 602 instead of a colon. But the first altera
'

tion from Q. breaks the rhythm, and the second makes the construction
awkward in 1. 604. The poet alludes to the picture by Zeuxis.
619. Battel, battell Q. I retain the obsolete spelling as better be

fitting the almost obsolete sense, viz. a division of an army arrayed.

Cf. Ovid, Metam., Bk. viii. :

'

Sanguine etigne micant oculi, riget ardua cervix :

Et setce densis similes hastilibus horrent.'

' '
628. venture, venter Q. rhyming with enter.
632. eyes pay Malone (1790), eyes paies Q.
639. within his danger : a phrase which occurs frequently in
North's Plutarch (1579).
652. Mil, kill! the cry of soldiers entering a town to sack it, cf.
'To the Sack, to the Sack, Kill Kill 'North's Plutarch Life of ! !

Sylla.
655. bate-breeding, '
bate
'
= contention. The Guide into Tongues,
'
(1617), gives Debatemaker, or make-bate . . . vide Contentions.'
'
Shall ever civil bate
Gnaw and devour our taste ?
'

COUNTESS OP PEMBROKE'S Antonius.

657. carry-tale. Cf.

'
No tell-tale nor no bread-bate. 'Merry Wives,
i. iv. 12.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 219
674. Uncouple at the timorous flying hare. Cf. The Sheepheard's Song,
1
Course the fearful hare.'
676. roe, Roe Q.
680. overshut his troubles. Steevens suggested 'overshoot, i.e. fly
' '
beyond. Malone adds : To
shut up, in Shakespeare's age, signified
to conclude. I believe therefore the text is right.'

682. cranks = turns.

683. musits. 'Musits are said by the lexicographers to be the
'

places through which the hare goes for relief. MALONE. The lexico
graphers make out their ignorance of sport with this display of
humour. A hare's muse (French musse) is still the common and only
term for the round hole made in a fence through which a hare traces
her run. Musit is from the Fr. diminutive mussette.
687. conies, Conies Q. See Note III. (4), Lucrece.
695. spend their mouths, a term of venery. Cf.
'
He will spend his :

mouth, and promise, like Brabbler the hound.' Troilus and Cressida,
v. i. 99.
705. doth, do Q.
f
712. moralise: The practice of moralising works that is, of
drawing moral applications from treatises, fables, and romances
prevailed extensively in the Middle Ages, and was, at first, chiefly
cultivated by religious writers. It is to this custom Venus alludes
. . .

when she says it is unlike herself to moralize.' BELL.

736. defeature. Cf. Comedy of Errors, v. i. 299:

Careful hours with time's deformed hand

'

Have written strange defeatures in my face.'

740. wood = mad. (The Guide into Tongues, 1617.)

748. th' impartial, the th' impartiall Q.
777. Mermaids, Marmaids Q.
787. reprove = disprove, refute. Cf. 2 Henry VL, in. i. 40:

'My lords

Reprove my allegation if you can.'

798. caterpillers, Caterpillers Q. See Note III. (4), Lucrece.

808. teen vexation. =

813. lawnd, or laund = an open space of untilled ground in a wood.
Cf. 3 Henry VI. , in. i. 2 :

'
Under this thick-grown brake we '11 shrowd ourselves

For through this lawnd anon the deer will come.'

f
848. parasites, parasits in Q. rhyming with wits.'
'
849. Cf. the Anon, anon, Sir' scene, 1 Henry IV., n. iv.
220 NOTES
849. tapsters, Tapsters Q. See Note III. (1), Lucrece.

858. cedar-tops, Ceader tops Q. See Note III. (5), Lucrece.

870. Coasteth = approaches; Q. 9 has posteth.'
'

871-2. And, as she runs the bushes in the way,

Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face,
InQ.
And as she runnes, the bushes in the way,
Some catch her by the necke, some kisse her face,

Modern Editions omit the comma l

after way/ but this makes the next

phrase awkward. I omit the comma after

'
runs/ believing that verb
to be transitive, as in the phrase 'the fox ran the meadows,' or,
'
possibly, as in 'he ran the blockade/ or ran the gauntlet.' The
comma which I omit is rhythmical, not grammatical. See Note II. on
The Sonnets.
873. twined, twin'd Q.
875. doe, Doe Q. See Note III. (4), Lucrece.
877. at a bay, a term of venery for the action of hounds baying in
a circle round the exhausted stag or boar. It seems to reflect the old
French abai, abbai, more closely than does the modern English at bay
(French aux abois), which is used of the quarry in its extremity rather
than of the hounds that surround it. The Guide into Tongues (1617)
has ' an Abbay or Barking q. (=as it were) at a Bay, vi. Bay or Barke/
'
and, under Bay, barke, or hold at a Bay.'
888. who shall cope him first = encounter him. Cf. As You Like It,
ii. i. 67 :

'
I love to cope him in these sudden fits.'

Cope, v. t. =to encounter, perhaps from Ice. kapp, contention ; kappi, a

champion from Latin campus, a field (of battle). Thus
derivatives
the Imperial Dictionary, The Guide into Tongues (1617), derives the
word from Low German ' Kop, the head, as it were to come head to
head, or face to face.'
c '
889. This dismal cry, viz. the strange intonation of the hounds' cry
Cf. A Midsummer Night's
f '
when baying. Cry is a term of venery.
Dream, iv. i. :

'
A cry more tuneable
Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn
'
:

'
and full cry.'
'
902. together, togither Q. rhyming with whither.'
909. mated = confounded : from French mater, to fatigue, Old French
mat, worn out : all from the chess term, Persian shah mat, English
' '
check mate, literally the king is dead.
 VENUS AND ADONIS 221
920. Another flap-mouth' d mourner. The whole passage attests the
Poet's intimate knowledge of the chase, and it reflects the use of such
themes in courtly mediaeval poetry. Cf. the death of Begon in Garin
te Loherain. He, too, is ineffectually dissuaded from hunting a boar,
and, when dead, is mourned by his hounds.
'
Seul ont Begon en la forest laissie ;

Et jouste lui reviendrent si trois chien,

Hulent et braient com fuissent enragie . . .

Gentis hons fu, moult 1'amoient si chien.'

KEB, Epic and Romance.
940. random, randon Q. The old form from Old French randon,
French randonnee. 'Terme de chasse. Tour, circuit fait sur un
meme lieu par une bete qu'on a laiicee.' LITTRE.
956. vail'd = let fall.

963. Both crystals, where they view'd each other's sorrow: Magic
crystals, as Dr. Dee's, in which one in sympathy with another could
see the scene of his distress.
973. halloo, hallow Q. This spelling is given by The Guide into
Tongues, 1617.
995. clepes= calls.
1002. decease, decesse Q. rhyming with 'confesse.' (Fr. deces,
Lat. decessus.)
1003. boar, Bore Q. See Note III. (4), Lucrece.
1028. The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light. Cf. Virgil,
JEneid, viii. 808 :

'
Ilia vel, intactae segetis per summa volaret
Gramina.'

1031. as murder d Q. 3, are murder'd Q. 1.

1046-7. ^4.* when the wind, imprison d in the ground,

Struggling for passage, earth' s foundation shakes.

This was the received explanation of an earthquake. Cf. 1 Henry IV. 3
in. i. 32 :

'
Oft the teeming earth
Iswith a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of unruly wind
Within her womb ; which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldame earth and topples down
Steeples.'

1048.Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound. ' When
Shakespeare was sixteen years old (1580) there was an earthquake in
'

England. MALONE.
1054. was drench' d, had drecht Q.
222 NOTES
1083. Having no fair to lose, fair = beauty.
1093. lion, Lion Q. See Note III. (4), Lucrece.
1096. tiger, Tygre Q. (Ibid.)
1105. Urchin-snouted; urchin = hedgehog (The Guide into Tongues).
1105. boar, Boare Q. See Note III. (4), Lucrece.
1112. boar (Ibid.).
f
1128. two lamps . in darkness lies:
. . lt is obvious from this

example, as from numerous others, that the Elizabethan violations of

time and form cannot always be referred to haste or accident, but that
they were sometimes adopted designedly to suit the metre or the
rhyme. In such cases as the present, it is possible that the final s
came into use as a substitute for the Saxon termination th.' BELL.
1149. staring, perhaps = bristly and
e
unkempt, as in the staring
'
coat of an ungroomed horse.
 LUCRECE 223

THE RAPE OF LUCRECE

I. The Text. The Text is taken from the First Quarto of 1594, as
reproduced in facsimile from the copy in the British Museum by
Mr. Charles Praetorius. Spelling and punctuation have been modern
ised generally, but not invariably, in accordance with the use of The

Cambridge Shakespeare. In every other case of a departure from the

Quarto, the fact is noted. The Variorum Shakespeare of 1821, Shake
speare's Poems (Kelmscott), and The Poems of William Shakspeare
(Robert Bell), have also been used for the text and notes. Through
out the Notes the First Quarto (B. M.) is referred to as Q.

II. The Use of the Apostrophe as a Guide to the Metrical Pronunciation.

See Note II. on Venus and Adonis.

III. The Use of Capitals. Cf. Note V. on The Sonnets. The use of
capitals in the First Quartos of Venus, Lucrece, and The Sonnets is not
arbitrary, and much, both of the author's intention and of the manner
of his age, is lost by a hard and fast conformation to modern
practice. In the First Quarto of Lucrece capitals are used to denote:
(1) Professions and Occupations, viz. : Orator, where the capital is
retained in this Edition by analogy with the occasional modern practice
in the cases of Poet, Painter, Musician. You find also, ludge 1. 220,
Authors 1. 1244, Clients 1. 1020, Plowman 1. 958, Messenger 1. 1583,
Merchant 1. 1660, Citizen 1. 464, Groom, 11. 1345, 1632-45; and,
somewhat similarly, Father 1. 1731 in which cases the modern practice
:

has been followed.

(2) Technical Terms, especially of War, viz. Tent 1. 15, Armies
:

I. 76, Trumpet 1. 470, Falchion 11. 509, 1046, 1626, Fort 1. 482,
Sentinel 1. 942, (Battering-) Ram 1. 464, Cannon 1. 1043, Foe 1. 1696 ;
and similarly, in the case of other buildings and appliances, City
II. 464-5, 1544, Monument 1. 391, Cabinet 1. 442, Curtain 1. 374, Cell
1. 881, Schedule (Cedule) 1. 1312, Bell 1. 1492. In the last instance
' '
Bell is used as an image, or emblem.
(3) This use is very frequent in the case of Animals, introduced as in
'
Fables, e.g. 1. 836, My Honey lost, and I a Drone-like Bee' ; 1. 849,
 224 NOTES
'
Or hateful Cuckoos hatch in Sparrows' nests?' 11. 1009-1015, where
' ' '
the Crow is contrasted with the Swan/ and Gnats with Eagles. In
such cases the capital has been retained to emphasise the antithetical
illustration.

(4) It is also employed in the Quarto, but not retained in this

Edition ;
in the case of Animals, apart from any such fabular inten
tion, e.g. Owls 11. 164, 360, Lambs 11. 166, 737, Hound, Hawk, 1. 694,
Faulcon 11. 505-9, Hind 1. 543, Doe 1. 581, Deer 1. 1144, Cat 1. 554,
Tigers 1. 980, Lion 1. 421, Lion and Unicorn 1. 956, Birds 1. 1121.
(5) In the case of Flowers, where it is retained in this Edition, e.g.
11. 258-9,
'
Roses. Lawn ' (the capital given to lawn, for antithetical
. . .

effect, has not, however, been retained) ; and of Trees, Cedar 11. 664-5,
Bark . . Pine 1. 1167.
.

(6) For the Sun, Moon, and Ocean, where it is retained, though not
for Sea, 1. 1100.
(7) For Honour, almost invariably, Virtue 1. 846, Fame 11. 1188,
1202-3, where it is not retained unless these qualities are personified,
as in the case of Beauty, almost constantly. In beauty, 1. 80, it is
omitted.
(8) The use of capitals in words newly introduced may best be illus

trated from a passage in The Arte of English Poesie (1589) After :

f f '

warning the maker to avoid antiquated, provincial, inkhorne terms

brought in by men of learning,' and strange terms of other languages
f

by secretaries and marchaunts and trauailours,' the author allows

e
certain exceptions : Ye have also this word conduict, a French word,
but well allowed word idiome, taken from the Greekes,
. . . also this
yet serving aptly word significative borrowed of the Latine
. . . this
and French, but to us brought in first by some Noble-mans Secretarie
. and many more like usurped Latine and French words as,
. . :

methode, methodically placation, function, assubtiling, refining, compen

dious, prolixe, figurative, inveigle numerous, metrical pene . . . . . .

trate,indignitie . . .
savage for wilde : obscure for darke . . .

audacious for bold.' In the First Quartos this same theory ex is

emplified by the same practice, viz. of printing such words with

capitals and sometimes (in The Sonnets) in italics, e.g. in Lucrece,

Oratorie 1. 564, Apologies 1. 31, Hospitalitie 1. 75, Cure 1. 732, Diapason
1. 1132, Pilgrimage 1. 960, Sou'raigntie 1. 36, Lamentations 1. 1829,
Ivory 1. 407, Antiques 1. 459 ; and, more doubtfully, Arch 1. 1667,
Act 1. 1824, Edie (Eddy) 1. 1669, Down 1. 1012. In these cases
the capital has not been retained, but they are not necessarily
errors. The Swan's Down has a capital in Guillim's Display of
Heraldrie (1610), and the word is derived in The Guide into Tongues
 LUCRECE 225
(1617), from Low German dunne veders : a dun = tennis, exilis ; veder
= pluma.
IV. Notes on the Text.
1. all in post. Cf. The Palace of Pleasure, William Painter:
{
Whervpon thei rode to Rome in poste.'
e '
8-9. Haply that name of chaste unhaply set
This bateless edge on his keen appetite. Cf. Ovid, Fasti, ii. :

'
Verba placent, et vox, et quod corrumpere non est:
'

Quoque minor spes est, hoc magis ille cupit ;

bateless = not to be
f
bated,' i.e. blunted. Cf. Love's Labour Lost, i. i.

6:
'That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge.'

10. Let- forbear. Cf. Chaucer:

'
That man is bounden to his observance
For Goddes sake to Icten of his will.'

13. heaven's Beauties the stars.

19. high-proud, hyphened by Malone.
24. silver-melting, hyphened by Malone.
36. Sovreignty, Sou'raingtie Q.
37. Suggested = tempted. Cf. King Richard II., HI. iv. 75 :

'
What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee,
To make a second fall of cursed man.'

50. Collatium. Thus in the Bodleian version of the First Quarto ;

Colatia in all the other early Quartos.

56. Virtue would stain that or with silver white: Or (ore Q., o'er
Modern involve a play on the two words ore = or =
Editions) may
gold in heraldry; and ore o'er, over.
=
But the first is here the
primary sense. Malone conjectured this, instancing the use of ore = or
= gold, in Hamlet; and adding, 'The terms of heraldry in the next
stanza seem to favour this supposition and the opposition between or :

and the silver white of Virtue is entirely in Shakespeare's manner. So

afterwards :

"Which virtue gave the golden age, to gild

Their silver cheeks. ."' . .

But Malone did not push his conjecture far enough. The conceits
of this whole passage (11. 54-72), based as it is on heraldic terms
throughout, can only be understood in the light of contemporary
heraldic lore as expounded, for example, by Guillim in his Display of
P
 226 NOTES
Heraldrie (1610). Guillim gives a long account of the composition
and significance of the several colours used in blazon, much of which
bears directly on this passage. E.g.: 'This colour (white) is most
commonly taken in Blazon for the metal silver, and is termed Argent,
wheresoever the same is found in Field or Charge. In the Second Edi
tion (1632) there follows To this metall is given the second place
:

next to gold. For in Blazon it betokeneth innocency, cleannesse

. . .

of life and chastity.' Coming (First Edition) to yellow, he writes:

'

bright yellow, which compounded of much

'
This colour is is white,
and a you should take two parts of white, and but one
little red, as if
of red. This colour in Armes is blazed by the name of Or, which is
'
as much as to say aurum, which is gold. It is possible to interpret
f
this by assuming that Shakespeare uses or'=gold, for the
line
red of Beauty's blush Beauty's 'red' of line 59 (he uses 'gold' for
' ' f
red in Macbeth His silver skin laced with his golden blood '). But,
:

on remainder of the passage becomes unintelligible.

this assumption, the
And whenever Shakespeare, in an age of technical conceits, indulges in
one ostentatiously, it will always be found that his apparent obscurity
arises from our not crediting him with a technical knowledge which he

undoubtedly possessed, be it of heraldry, of law, or of philosophic

disputation. When he says 'Virtue would stain that or with silver
:

f '

white,' he means that Virtue, by an admixture of silver white the :

blazon of chastity (supra) with

'
that '= Beauty's blushes = Beauty's '

' e
red of 1. 59 obtained, in accordance with Heraldry, the mixed
:

colour,' gold, which is 'blazed by the name of Or.' Virtue's white,

mixed with Beauty's red, has now produced heraldic or.
57-8. But Beauty in that white intituled
From Venus' doves, doth challenge that fair field.
In Q. there is a comma after 'intituled.' But Shakespeare con
stantly places a comma, without grammatical signification, at the end
of a line (see Note V. on The Sonnets). These lines do not, even when
taken alone, give any clear sense, unless so punctuated as to yield
this meaning: 'But Beauty, also intituled = formally blazoned in
white (which is virtue's colour) by derivation from Venus' doves, doth
challenge that fair field = disputes Virtue's exclusive right to afield,
'

again the proper heraldic term, of white. And, unless this interpre
tation be accepted, it will be found that 67 : Of cithers colour was the
other Queen and 70: That oft they interchange their seat yield no
sense at all.
59. Then Virtue claims from Beauty, Beauty's red
Beauty having :

claimed Virtue's white, by instancing ' Venus' doves,' Virtue retorts

with a counter-claim on Beauty's red, which she founds, 1. 60-64 :
 LUCRECE 227
'
Which Virtue gave the golden age, to gild
Their silver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield
Teaching them thus to use it in the fight,
When shame assailed, that red should fence the white '
:

on the fact that she, Virtue, gave red to the Golden Age, so that,
again by admixture in accordance with heraldry, they (the people of the
' '
world's innocent prime) might gild their silver cheeks in fact, turn
'
their white, the symbol of innocency/ into gold. Virtue calls this
their shield ; teaching them, when the white innocency is assailed, to
'
= defend it with red blushes. Thus the Poet brings his conceit
fence
'

round to the point of departure from Lucrece' blush. The ensuing

lines :

'
This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen,
Argued by Beauty's red and Virtue's white :

'
Of cither's colour was the other Queen :

are now Beauty, starting with red, has claimed white,

intelligible ; for
and Virtue, starting with white, has claimed red.
67. Proving from world's minority their right This also is now in :

' '

telligible. It refers back to the golden age of the world's infancy,

when Virtue had red in her gift, and it refers also, as I hold, to the
priority of white among heraldic colours, according to the science of
'

Shakespeare's day. Cf. Guillim White challengeth the precedency

:

of black (according to Upton) in respect of priority of time, for that it

'
was in nature before black and, a fortiori, before red, which is
1
exactly compounded of white and black.'
( '

69.The sovereignty of either being so great Sovereignty is also

:

used by Guillim and his predecessors for the dignity attaching to

(
certain dispositions of heraldic bearings Moreover (as Leigh
:

sheweth) they are also called, most worthy partitions, in respect that
albeit the Field be charged in divers parts thereof, whether with things
of one or of divers kinds, yet is every one of them as effectual as if it
were only one by the soveraigntie of these partitions.'
Heraldry was the one science of the nobility before whom minstrels
sang in the Middle Ages, and a knowledge of it, as expounded by
ancient writers, may throw light on many dark passages of mediaeval
song. 'The eyes of vair' of Aucassin and Nicolete (' les iex vairs')
which have remained inscrutable to Mr. Lang, Mr. Bourdillon, and
M. Roquefort, may shine again with recovered brilliancy. Guillim
'
writes, summing up the wisdom of his forbears, If your vaire doth
consist of A rgent and Azure, you must in blazon thereof, say onely,
hee beareth vaire, and it sufficeth but if it be composed of any other
:
228 NOTES
colours,then you must say, he beareth vaire of these or those colours.'

So Nicolete's eyes shone like a shield of blue and silver.

87-8. These lines are marked as quotations in Q.
'
93. pleats : thus in all the Quartos. Ewing substituted plaits,'
and Boswell adduces :

'Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides.' Lear, i. i. 279.

' '
But this plaited is due to Pope. The first two Quartos have pleated,'
'

and the sense in both passages suggests the pleats or folds of an ample
' '
' '

robe, not a covering of plaited or platted interweaving. Cf. Lear,

iv. vi. 162 :

'
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear ;
Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. .' . .

100. parting = speaking.

102. Writ in the glassey margents of such books. Cf. Romeo and
Juliet, i. iii. 86 :

'
And what obscured in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him only lacks a cover.'

Margent = margin. our ancient English books, the comment

'
In all

isprinted in the margin.' MALONE.

113. thither, thither Q. Hither Cambridge, with an erroneous
' '
attribution of thither to Q. 7 alone.
121. Intending = pretending, sprig ht, sprite Q.
135. That what they have not, that which they possess . Thus in the
first four Quartos. In later Editions :

'
That of t they have not . . .'

But the though a little involved, conveys a subtiler

earlier reading,
'
sense: Those that covet much are rendered so foolish by their
rapacity that what they have not, viz. that which they (apparently)
possess but cannot truly be said to have, they scatter and unloose, and
so have less by hoping to get more ; or, if they do gain more, the
profit of this excess is but to surfeit and to suffer such griefs that they
'

prove bankrupt by this poor-rich gain. Malone cites Daniel's Cleopatra

'
(1594) :For what thou hast, thou still dost lacke/ and a sentence of
'
Publius Syrus Tarn avaro deest quod habet, quam quod non habet.'
:

147. all together, the seventh and eighth Quartos ; altogether in the
rest.
148. venturing, ventring Q.
168. wakes, Qq ; wake, Malone
(Capell MS.).
 LUCRECE 229
' '
188. His nuked armour of still, slaughter d lust :
slaughtered Still
'
Q. ; still-slaughter'd,' Malone ; 'i.e. still-slaughtering; unless the
poet means to describe it as a passion that is always a killing, but
never dies.' STEEVENS. But the line continues the sense of the pre
ceding passage (171) he : is toss'd between Desire and Dread ; (172)

; Dread fears harm from it

Desire flatters his enterprise (173) Honest ;

Fear, bewitched by Lust, too often retires ; (183) but Fear again gets
the upper hand, and Tarquin debates the sorrow that must arise from
his contemplated crime ; till (187) he despises (188) his naked or
defenceless protection from Lust, now still and slaughtered by Fear.
198. foul dishonour to my household's grave. This opens another
passage based on Shakespeare's knowledge of heraldry. Cf. :

( '
household's grave with Titus Andronicus, v. iii. 194 :

'
Lavinia shall f orthwith
Be closed in our household's monument.'

The escutcheons of ancestors were displayed on the mortuary chapels

' '
of noble families. But, possibly, grave is here a noun, from the
'
verb to grave.' Cf. Merchant of Venice, n. vii. 36 :

'
Let 's see once more this saying graved in gold.'
( '
The epithet household is twice applied by Shakespeare to armorial
bearings :

'
Clifford. Might I but know thee by thy household badge.
Warwick. Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest,
The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff.'
2 Henry VI., v. i. 202.
'
Bolingbrokc. From my own windows torn my household coat,
Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign,
Save men's opinions and my living blood,
To show the world I am a gentleman.'
Richard II., in. i. 24.

This use of 'household coat,' in juxtaposition with 'imprese,' a term

of heraldic science, gives some slight colour to my suggestion that by
'household's grave' Shakespeare meant the same thing; and the
suggestion is further strengthened by his play on the word in the
couplet of this same stanza :

1
Then my digression is so vile, so base
That it will live engraven in face
'
my :

leading up, as it does, to the next stanza (204-210), in which he deals

f f
explicitly with abatements,' which are accidentall markes annexed
to Coate-Armour, denoting some ungentleman-like, dishonorable, or
230 NOTES
disloyall demeanour, quality , or staine in the Bearer, whereby the
dignity of the Coate- Armour is greatly abased.' A Display of Herald-
'
rie. Among such abatements Guillim goes on to give one unto him
that discourteously intreateth either Maid or Widdow against their
will.'

217. strucken, stroke Q.

239. ay, I Q., is frequently so spelt by contemporary writers.
'
245. Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe In the old tapestries :

or painted cloths, many moral sentences were wrought. So, in If This

Be not a Good Play, the Devil is in 't, by Dekker,
"What says the prodigal child in the painted cloth ?"
'
M ALONE.
313. conduct = conductor.
333. sneaped = nipped, pinched. Cf. Ray :

'Herbs and fruits sneaped with cold weather.'

The first sense is to reprimand or chide, as in 2 Henry IV., n. i. 133 :

'My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without reply.'

335. Shelves and sands. Cf. Milton :

f
On the tawny sands and
'
shelves.
c '
342. prey to pray, pray to pray Q.
400. Her hair, like golden threads : Cf. flavique capilli in Ovid's
version of the story.
408.
e
A pair of maiden worlds unconquertd Mr. Grant White and
'
:

Mr. Bell take exception to the epithet ' maiden.' ' Is not this line
contradicted in the two lines following?' Mr. Furnivall justly
' <f
replies: Shakespeare used maiden" here as we do of a castle,
which admits its own lord but not a foe.'
417. tired, tyred Q., a term of falconry. See Note on Venus and
Adonis, 1. 56.
419. alabaster, alablaster Q.
428-43. A
sustained conceit taken from the assault of a fortress.
It is resumed 464-483.
459. antics, antiques Q.
460. This line is marked as a quotation in Q.
471 . heartless = spiritless.
476. Under what colour : a play on the double sense of the word :

(1) pretext (2) standard, in pursuit of the conceit.

;

495. Will, Will Q. : It is but fair to note this in view of the con
troversy arising out the word when so printed in The Sonnets. See
Note V. on The Sonnets.
 LUCRECE 231
534. tender = hold dear, regard.
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 :
Here the Poet, again, follows the science of heraldry. Cf. A Dis
e
play of Heraldrie This (a batune, baston) is the proper and most
:

usuall note of ^legitimation (perhaps for the affinitive betwixt Baston

and Bastards ; or else for that bastards lost the priviledge of free
men, and so were subject to the servile stroke:) which Marke . . .

(as some doe hold) neither they nor their children shall ever remove
or lay aside.'
543. grype = griffin, from Latin gryps. 'All the modern editions
read :

"
Beneath the gripe's sharp claws."

The gryphin was meant, which in our author's time was usually
written grype or gripe.' MALONE. Steevens cites Cotgrave to the
same effect, but sets against him Mr. Reed's edition of Dodsleys Old
(
Plays, i.
124, where gripe seems to be used for vulture :

"
Ixion's wheele
Or cruel gripe to gnaw my growing harte."
Ferrex and Porrex.'
'
Bell writes : here evidently intended for a real bird, and not for
It is
an imaginary griffin.' But was the griffin imaginary to Shakespeare?
His frequent use in Lucrece of the lore subsequently collected in
Guillim's Display of Heraldrie makes it not improbable that the Cocka
trice of 1. 540 suggested the Grype or Griffon of 1. 543, for in that
work they are described, with but the Wiverne between them. Now
none of these creatures is presented by Guillim as imaginary. They
are, it is true, 'exorbitant Animals, much more prodigious than all the
e
former,' and not to be reckoned amongst those good Creatures that
God created before the transgression of Adam.' But they exist,
although, If Man had not transgressed the Law of his Maker, this
'

dreadfull deformity (in likelihood) had not happened in the pro

'
creation of Animals.' Guillim is no sceptic, and an Unicorne sejant'
c
is for him not even exorbitant Some have made doubt whether
:

there be any such Beast, as this, or no. But the great esteeme of his
Home (in many places to be scene) may take away that needelesse
scruple.' The Guide into Tongues (1617) gives a minute description of
e
the Grype, instancing its hostility to horses : est animal pennatum
et quadrupes ideoque per
: terrain currunt ut Leones, per ae'ra volant
232 NOTES
ut Aquilae. Omni parte corporis Leones sunt, Alls, et facie, et
pedibus, Acquilis similes. Multum equos infestant, adeoque equitem
armatum cum equo in sublime rapiunt.'
' '
550. blows, Malone ; blow in all the Quartos.
' "
555. panieth, pateth Q :
having been
Probably for pateth,' the
'
letdrop by the printer on to follie,' at the end of the next line.
'
639. rash relier Q Sewell without authority suggested not to
:

e
seducing lust's outrageous fire/ The Edition of 1616 has rash reply.'
But to ' rely/ originally transitive, was formerly but another form of
(
to rally,' both, at the furthest source, from re-ad-ligare.
640. repeal= recall. Cf. Richard II. , n. ii. 49:

'The banished Bolingbroke repeals himself :

and 2 Henry VL, in. ii. 349 :

'
I will repeal thee, or, be well assured
Adventure to be banished myself.'

643. Eyne, eien Q.

669-672. Cf. Ovid, Fasti, n. :

'
Nil agis ; eripiam, dixit, pro crimine vitam :

Falsus adulterii testis adulter erit :

Interimam famulum, cum quo deprensa fereris.'

677. Cf. Ovid, Fasti, n. :

'Ut quondam stabulis deprensa relictis

'
Parva sub infesto quum jacet agna lupo :

and Chaucer :

'

Right as a wolf that fynt a lomb aloon,

To whom shal she compleyne, or make moon ?
'

Legende, 11. 1798-9.

680. nightly linen :

'
Grant White identifies the " linnen " with
the night-rail of the nightgownless Elizabethan time.' FURNIVALL.
Night-gowns were not worn in bed in Shakespeare's day, and the
word, when he uses it, stands for a dressing-gown :

'
I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her.'

Macbeth, v. i. 3.

But night-rail seems to have the same meaning, viz. ' a loose robe
worn over the dress at night.' Imperial Dictionary. Nightly linen'
'

probably = linen sheets.

684. prone = headstrong, Malone. The 1600 edition has
e
proud.'
688. Cf. Ovid, Fasti, n. :

'Quid victor, gaudes? haec te victoria perdet.'

 LUCRECE 233
096. balk, bauk Q. =to turn aside from, as when a horse refuses.
722. Cf. Sonnet CXLVI. 1, 2.
743. convertite = convert. Cf. As You Like It, v. iv. 190:
'
Out of these convertites
There is much matter to be heard and learned.'

747. scapes ; 'any loose or wanton acts, or misdemeanours. Cf.

Winter's Tale, in. iii. :

"A very pretty barne sure some scape !

; though I am not very bookish, I can
read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape."

"Thou lay'st thy scapes on names adored." MILTON, Paradise Regained, ii.'
BELL.

812. quote, cote Q. Cf. French coter, to quote. The sense is here
to mark, observe. Cf. Hamlet, u. i. 112 :

'
I am sorry that with better heed and judgment
I had not quoted him.'

828. crest-wounding dishonouring to the crest or cognisance.

830. the mot = the motto on the scroll. That Shakespeare wrote
Lucrece with an intimate knowledge of heraldry, as it was afterwards
anatomized in Guillim's Display, is again apparent from this passage.
Guillim has a paragraph described ' Crest upon an Escroll' (6, v.),
in which he argues that the proper place for a crest, though the
'
fashion be now inveterate and overworn,' was ' upon an Escroll/ and
adds: 'You may yet observe that our most noble Prince of Wales
'
himselfe to this day thus beareth his badge and the Poet here puts
'
the two together. His ' crest-wounding is reminiscent of a feature
in the most drastic abatement f his crest divided' (Guillim); his
'mot' or motto, 'How he in peace is wounded, not in war,' is re
miniscent of a passage in the same section
c
And therefore because :

the dastard dares not come so neere the enemy, to beare his strokes
on his shield, hee must be content to take this piercing of some of
his owne side in Armes.'

Shakespeare, who loved terms of art, in Lucrece borrows from

Heraldry as freely as, in The Sonnets, he borrows from Law. Some
have argued that he was a lawyer. Others might argue, with equal
probability, that he was a Herald, or a Platouist. He was none of
these essentially. But he was the greatest exploiter of technical terms
in an age which, following the precepts of the Pleiade, set itself to
illustrate language by impressing the vocabulary of every science and

every craft. Cf. Joachim Du Bellay's Deffence et Illustration de la

langue Franfoise (1549).

234 NOTES
'
831. How, 'He in peace is wounded, not in war' In Q. How, etc. :

The lineis marked as a quotation, also the next line, apparently by a

printer's error.
836-39-40-49-50. Roman capitals are used in Q wherever the Poet
cites from an adage or a fable.
853. absolute = perfect. Cf. Hamlet, v. ii :

'
Believe me an absolute gentleman
'
:

and passim in the Plays. The line is marked as a quotation in Q.

859. barns = garners up.
867-8. These lines are marked as a quotation or adage in Q.
899. Sort an hour = allot an hour.
914. appaid : 'From the old verb apayen, to please, to satisfy :

"Therewith was Perky n appayed

And preised hem faste." Piers Ploughman.' BELL.

925. copesmate = companion. So, in Hubbard's Tale :

'Till that the foe his copesmate he had found.' STEEVENS.

936. fine = to finish.

985. orts = fragments, refuse.
1021. force = esteem.
1054. A badge of Fame to Slander's livery The badge was the
:

device, crest, or arms of the master, on a separate piece of cloth,

or silver, worn in the form of a shield on the left sleeve. The colour
of the livery was generally blue. Cf. Bishop Hall :

'
Some badgeless blue upon his back.'

1092. nought to do = nought to do with.

<
1109-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-25-27 are printed Q. with at the
beginning of each line, as being antithetical adages ; cf. 1. 528. That
they are rhymed versions of existing adages, I do not doubt. Com
'
pare 1. 1110, Sad souls are slain in merry company,' and e But it is
an old proverb, that it is a little comfort to the miserable, to have
companions/ KEMP'S Nine Days' Wonder, 1600.
1127. dumps = melancholy tunes. Cf. Two Gentlemen of Verona,
in. ii. 85 :

'
To their instruments
Tune a deploring dump.'
In this passage the Poet lays the terminology of Music under con
tribution discord, stops, rests (1124) ; notes (1126) ; dumps, time is
:

kept (1127).
1132. diapason : The Poet resumes his conceit founded on musical
 LUCRECE 235
terms, drawing, in this and the two ensuing lines, on the part-song
of his day. Diapason originally meant the interval of an octave.
1133. burden-wise, burthen- wise Q Burden or burthen is a word
:

of complex origin. It came to mean the refrain of a song. Burden,

the drone of a bag-pipe, is derived from French Bourdon, low-Latin
Burdo, a bumble-bee but in the case of the organ-pipe and the actual
;

part of the bagpipe, as distinguished from the rude bass played on it,
it picked up an association with the other French Bourdon, low-Latin

Bordo or Burdo, a pilgrim's staff (properly an ass or mule, for which

the staff was a substitute), from the similarity in shape of these
instruments to a staff. Burden here, as did diapason in the preceeding
line, means a simple form of bass.
1134. descant 'st, descants Q. =Discant (dis-cantus, a double song).
'
This was originally the melody or ' counterpoint sung with a plain-
song thence, the upper voice or leading melody in a piece of part-
;

music. Cf. Sonnet ix. 11. 9-12 of Drayton's Idea, 1599 :

'

My hollow sighs the deepest base doe beare,

True diapason in distincted sound :

My panting hart the treble makes the ayre,

And descants finely on the musiques ground.'
This Sonnet does not appear in the Edition of 1594, and was not
republished in the edition of 1619. It therefore has an interesting

bearing on the charge of plagiarism, preferred now against Shake

speare and now against Drayton. If there be borrowing here, it was
done by Drayton. The Guide into Tongues (1617) shows that ' Descant,
'
or discant, to sing descant had come from the first sense of the noun
(
= a contrapuntal melody in the treble) to = to sing ' notes which are
'
sung with celeritie,' and to sing with a small, yet pleasant and shrill
voice as birds doe.'
Malone, followed by Bell, put a comma after des
l
better skill :

cant' st'and suggested that ' better skill' stands elliptically for ' with
better skill.' But that is not so. Shakespeare here, as ever, exhibits
a complete grasp of technical terms. He makes Lucrece contrast
her sad, monotonous accompaniment of groans humming on Tarquin
still with the treble descant of the nightingale, complaining in a
higher register and with more frequent modulations of the wrong
wrought her by Tereus, according to Ovid's tale. The one he com
pares to a single droning base, chiefly in the diapason or lower octave ;
' '
the other to the better skill or more ingenious artifice of a contra
puntal melody scored above it. The three lines also convey, still
more subtily, a compliment from Shakespeare the singer of Lucrece
to Ovid the sing3r of Philomela. As in the conceits founded on
236 NOTES
heraldry (supra) and on law in The Sonnets, Shakespeare contrives an
ingenious piece of artistry, whether of sense, of imagery, or of sound.
The defined and constant interpretation of technical terms adds point
to his meaning. The suggestion which they carry of other things, in
themselves pleasing, accords, as it were, an accompaniment of fainter
imagery the shock of surprise occasioned by their melodious intro
:

duction endows his music with novelty and charm. And from their
successful adaptation to these several uses a special appreciation is
born, intellectual, it may be, rather than aesthetic ; comparable to,
(
but keener than, the enjoyment which Voltaire found in the difficulte
'
surmontee of French Alexandrine couplets.
1139. Who, if it wink, shall thereon fall and die The construction :

'
is, which heart, if the eye wink, shall fall thereon/ viz. on the
knife.
1143. shaming is here intransitive. Cf. As You Like It, iv. iii. 136:
'
do shame
I
To tell you what I was' :

and Raleigh :

'To its trunk authors give such a magnitude as I shame to repeat.'

'
1157. pollution, pollusion Q., rhyming with confusion/
1167 and 1169. peel'd (Lintott), pild Q. =pill'd. There were two
verbs, pille (French piller, Latin pilo), to plunder/ and pill (French
'

peler, from Latin pellis, a skin or bark) = to peel. The Guide into
to Pille = to take by extortion,' and to Pill =
e
Tongues gives both :

'
corticem detrahere, to Barke or pill trees.' Cf. Marston's Prologue
to 2 Antonio and Mellida :

'"Whilst snarling gusts nibble the juiceless leaves

From the nak'd shudd'ring branch ; and pills the skin
From off the soft and delicate aspects.'

The two words came to be confused. E.g. :

'
Commons are always bare, pilled, and shorn, as the sheep that feed upon
them.' SOUTH ;

and
'
To peel the chiefs, the people to devour.' DBYDEN.
1182. by him tainted Malone notes ' The first copy has, by an
:

apparent error of the press, " which for him tainted." The correction
was made in the octavo 1598.' The error only exists in the two
'
Bodleian copies of Q. The B. M. copy gives ' by him.
'
1205. oversee. Overseers were frequently added in Wills from
the superabundant caution of our ancestors. ... In some old wills
the term overseer is used instead of executor.' MALONE.
 LUCRECE 237
1208. life's . . .
life's, lives . . . lifes Q.
1216. For 'fleet-winged, etc. " For in
Q, i.e. cited as an adage.
1218. sun, sun Q. without a capital = sunshine. There is but one
other example (1. 1837) of this word being printed without a capital.
1220. slow tongue, slow-tongue Q.
1222. (For why? livery), (For why.
liverie) Q.
. . . . .

1226. Sun, Sun Q., with a Roman capital. See Note III. (0).
But here it, also, leads up to the metaphorical Suns and Ocean of
1230-31, where the conceit is pointed by this use of capitals.
1227. each flower moist'ned, Each flowre moistned with a melting
eye, QThe melody of the line suffers from the abandonment of the
:

ancient pronunciation flowre moistne'd.

1229. eyne, eien Q.
1241. will= may will.
1254. withered flower, withered Q. = withered. See Note II., Venus
and Adonis.
1257. hild, the old form of held. In Sonnet u. 4 held rhymes to
field, 1. 2.

1258. fulfill' d = completely filled.

1261. Precedent (Gildon), president Q.

1264. counterfeit, counterfaite Q. = counterpart or likeness, i.e. her
maid also weeping. Cf. Merchant of Venice, in. ii. 116 :

'
What find here ? Fair Portia's counterfeit.'

1272. of my sustaining = that I sustain.

1298. conceit, conceipt ; the conceiving Q
of what she shall write.
1310. tenure, tenour M
alone ; tenure Q., tenor, according to Imp.
Diet., in law = a transcript or copy which implies that a correct copy
is set out, and therefore that the instrument must have been set out

correctly, even though the pleader need not have set out more than
the substance or purport of the instrument. This technical term
exactly illustrates the nature of Lucrece' letter and of the circum
stances under which it was sent.
1329. sounds = narrow seas. Malone objects that sounds are
' '
shallow seas, such as may and can be sounded. But the suggested
derivation
is false. Sound is from Anglo-Saxon sund, akin to sunder.
Malone and Steevens both hold that the poet wrote floods and not
sounds. But Shakespeare's choice is characteristic, both in respect of
the word and of the thing intended. (1) Sounds, on which a heavy
'
accent echoes by alliteration the sorrow' of the preceding,
falls,
' '
and leads up to the sorrow of the succeeding line ; while the slight
paronomasia of sounds and noise is also in his manner. (2) Shake-
238 NOTES
speare's imagery so acutely visualised that in seeking a contrast to
is

a ford, or wide shallow in a river, he took a sound, or narrow and

deep strait of the sea. The substitution of floods would injure the
melody, the imagery, and the literary antithesis of a fine passage.
1331. The whole episode of the letter is reminiscent of the letters
f
signed le vostre T' and la vostre C' in Chaucer's Troilus and
f

Criseyde, Book v.

1350. the pattern = the groom. Later editions transpose 'the'

and 'this.'
1358. blemish, an imperfect rhyme to 'replenish.'
1366-7. (i
piece Of skilful painting = a painted hanging in lieu of
arras.
1368. drawn = drawn up, not delineated. Cf. 1.
Henry IV., iv. i.

126:
'
He cannot draw his power these fourteen days.'
{
1380. pioneer, Pyoner Q. Originally a foot-soldier,' but here a
worker in sap and mine.
1407. purl'd. Pope suggested curl'd ; but Malone cites :

'
"Whose stream an easie breath doth seem to blow,
Which on the sparkling gravel runs in purles
As though the waves had been of silver curies.'
DBAYTON, Mortimeriados, 1596.
Two words seem to have fused, purl from the sound ; cf. purr, and
purl, a stitch in embroidery. The Imperial Dictionary gives purl, ' a
'
circle made by the motion of a fluid ; perhaps akin to purl, a fall
from a horse, according to Skeat from old pirle, a whirligig, from
pirr, to whirl. But The Guide into Tongues (1617) gives a Purle = a
Purfle from French Pourfile = intertextus. A stitch is still so called,
'

although now spelt, as it

seems, erroneously, pearlstitch. The re '

ticulated ripples described by Drayton and the linked spirals of

ascending breath described here by our poet are as like this stitch as
they are unlike circles.
1417. boll'n = swollen. Golding uses the word in his Ovid, Phaer
in his Virgil. Cf. Ben Jonson :

'Thin, and boln out like a snail.'

Akin to bulge.
1418. to pelt = torage. Cf. E. Filmer :

'
Put her ladyship in a horrid pelt
And made her rail at me.'

1425. grippd, grip't Q.

 LUCRECE 239
1440. galled. Cf. Henry V., in. i. 12 :

'As doth a galled rock

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base.'

1444. steel 'd, steld Q., i.e. engraved. Cf. Sonnet xxiv. 1, ~2

(1609) :

'
Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath steeld
Thy beauties forme in table of my heart.'

Stell'dwas substituted in this passage (Lucrece, 1444) for steld (stel'd,

Malone; spell' d, Malone conj.) by Gildon ; and stell'd was also
substituted for steeld by Dyce (Capell MS.) in Sonnet xxiv. Dowden
accepts stell'd in the Sonnet, and cites Lucrece. But stell'd, fixed,
akin to stalled (stell is an enclosure for cattle in northern English),
makes worse sense in both passages than steel'd, engraved. And it
has less authority in the Quartos.
( '
Steld (Lucrece, 1444), it is true, rhymes with dweld but it does not :

follow that the two words were pronounced then as we pronounce

dwell' d now. For steeld (Sonnet xxiv. 1) rhymes with 'held,' and
'
'held' rhymes with field' (Sonnet n.), and printed 'hild' witli
'
'
fulfild (Lucrece, 1257).
Shakespeare certainly uses a verb to 'steel' in Venus and Adonis,
377:-
'
O give it me, lest thy hard heart do steele it,
And being steeld, soft sighes can never grave it.'

'Soft sighs/ naturally, cannot 'grave' a substance that has been

e
steel'd.' But the Poet's eye, in Sonnet xxiv., could, like a painter,
f ' '
steel or engrave the Friend's beauty's form on the table of his
heart,' and the sorrows of Hecuba may well be said (Lucrece, 1444)
to have steel'd or engraven all distress in her face. That steel'd
(
= engraved) was intended is confirmed by the next line :
'
Many (faces) she sees where cares have carved some.'

1452. chops : Later editions read chaps. Both forms of the word
were used in Shakespeare's time, and there is no reason for abandoning
the stronger for the weaker. Cf. :

'Beated and chopp'd with tanu'd antiquity.' Sonnet LXH. 10.

1486. swounds, sounds Q.

t
1525. stars shot from their fixed places' :
Perhaps a reminiscence
of:
De ccelo lapsa per umbras
'

Stellafacem ducens multa cum luce cucurrit.

Illam, summa super labentem culmina tecti,
Cernimus.' VIRGIL,
240 NOTES
'
The whole preceding passage seems clearly derived from the second
book of the jfineid.' BAYNES.
1526. When their glass fell wherein they viewed their faces = the bur
nished roof of Priam's palace in which the stars erstwhile had been
reflected. Boswell cites Lydgate's description :

'
That verely when so the sonne shone,
Upon the golde meynt amonge the stone,
They gave a light withouten any were,
As doth Apollo in his mid-day sphere.'
To me came Tarquin armed to begild
1544.
'
With outward honesty Thus in Q. , with ' beguild for
:
begild.
The line goes on, ' but yet defild.' Malone substituted :

'
To me came Tarquin armed ; so beguiled
"With outward honesty, but yet defiled
"With inward vice as Priam him did cherish,' etc.
: :

and the emendation has been generally accepted. But (1) an error so
' '
=
great as of armed to beguild for armed so beguild '( beguiled)
'

would be without a parallel in the carefully printed Quarto (1594) ;

(2) the (;) would be unusual,, also, I think, unparalleled, at this
' '

point in the stanza ; (3) the (;) would deprive the epithet armed of
meaning, reducing it to padding ; (4) the emendation demands that
beguird = beguiling; and (5) it makes the grammatical construction of
'
the whole stanza most awkward. On the other hand, ' gild is fre
' '

quently spelt guild ; cf. (supra) 1. 60 :

'
Which Vertue gave the golden age, to guild
'
Their silver cheeks :

and in the Sonnets (1609) 'guilded, LV. ; ' guil'st' for 'gildest/ xxviu. ;

in A Lovers Complaint (1609), guilded,' 1. 172.

1 f
guilding,' xxxiu. ;

Steevens, confirming Malone, cites The Merchant of Venice, in.

ii. 97 :
'
Thus ornament is but a guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea' :

e '
and guiled is given by the Quartos and First Folio. The second and
guilded = gilded.
' '
third Folios have ' '
ROWE. As the whole of
Bassanio's speech before the caskets is an attack on gold (' golden
f '
locks' gaudy gold'), guilded' may be the correct reading.
'
1549. sheds, sheeds Q., rhyming with bleeds.'
1551. falls = lets fall. Cf. Othello, iv. i. :

'Every tear she falls would prove a crocodile.'

1588. water-galls, an appearance in the sky known for a presage of

rain ; a rainbow-coloured H. Walpole
spot, a weather-gall. Cf. :
 LUCRECE 241
False good news are always produced by true good, like the water-gall by the
rainbow.'

1590. sad-beholding., hyphened by Sewell.

1650. scarlet lust: Lust, the Judge (1652), gives evidence that he
has been robbed (ibid.) Scarlet is, therefore, a conceit drawn from
a judge's scarlet robe.
1670. feeling-painful, hyphened by Sewell.
'
1687. for 'sparing. . . ; For sparing. ... Q., an adage indicated
by the inverted comma.
' '
1714-15. No, no,' quoth she, no Dame, hereafter living,
'

By my excuse shall claim excuse a giving :

This touch, which is omitted by Ovid, comes from Painter's Palace

of Pleasure (1566):
f
No unchast or ill woman shall hereafter take
example of Lucrece.' I quote from Mr. Furnivall's transcript.
Malone quotes an Edition of 1567, and gives: 'No unchaste or ill
woman shall hereafterimpute no dishonest act to Lucrece. He also 5

cites Livy : 'nee deinde impudica exemplo Lucretia; vivet.'

ulla

Shakespeare, who in most of the poem borrows his facts from Ovid,
doubtless followed Painter or Livy here, since the reason put into
Lucrece' mouth by Livy renders her act more intelligible than Ovid's
' '
veniam vos datis, ipsa nego.
1745. rigol= circle, a ring (Italian rigolo, German ringel). Cf.
2 Henry IV., iv. v. 36:
'
This sleep is sound indeed ; this is a sleep
That from this golden riyol (the crown) hath divorced
So many English Kings.'

1768. faltering, foultring Q.

1774. key-cold. Cf. Richard III., i. ii. :

'Poor key -cold figure of a holy king.'

1797. my sorrow s interest = tears. Cf. Sonnet xxxi. :

'
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye-
As interest of the dead.'
1801. too late, 'means too recently.' MALONE. It may mean too
her from Tarquin's crime.
late to save
1803. owed = owned.
1838. country rights = rights of our country. Cf. Maccabees :

'He spoke in his country language.'

1854. plausibly = with applause, by acclamation.

242 NOTES

SONNETS
I. The Text. The text adopted in this edition has been the fac
simile in photo-lithography by Charles Praetorius, from the Museum

copy of the First Quarto, 1609. Spelling and punctuation have been
modernised,, generally, but not invariably, in accordance with the use
of The Cambridge Shakespeare. Every other departure from the text
of the First Quarto has been noted. In order to determine on
the acceptance of necessary emendations, the Text and Notes of The
Cambridge Shakespeare, The Third Variorum of 1821, Dowden's Shak-
spere's Sonnets, 1881, Tyler's Shakespeare's Sonnets, 1890, Shakespeare's
Poems, Kelmscott edition, by F. S. Ellis, 1893, and Robert Bell's The
Poems of William Shakspeare, have been collated throughout, but with
an earnest effort to restore the text of the First Quarto, wherever such
a course seemed defensible.

II. Early Editions of the Sonnets. The symbols of reference to early

editions employed in these Notes have been adopted from The Cam
bridge Shakespeare. It will, therefore, prove convenient to quote,

first,the account of Early Editions given by the editors of the Cam

bridge in their preface to Vol. ix. :

f
The Sonnets appeared for the first time in 1609. The title of some
copies is as follows :

SHAKE-SPEARES |
SONNETS. I Never before Imprinted |
AT LONDON |

By G. Eld for T. T. and are |

to be solde by William Aspley. \
1609. |

'
In others the imprint is :

AT LONDON By |
G. Eld for T. T. and are |
to be solde by lohn
Wright, dwelling |
at Christ Church gate. |
1609. |

'
At the end of the Sonnets was printed in the same edition

A LOVERS COMPLAINT.
'
In 1640 a number of the Sonnets, together with some of the Poems
from The Passionate Pilgrim and A Lover's Complaint, were collected
into a volume, with some translations from Ovid and other pieces
 SONNETS 243
evidently not by Shakespeare, and published with the following
title :

POEMS WRITTEN By Wil. SHAKE-SPEABE. Gent. Printed at

:
| | | | |

London by Tho. Cotes, and are to be sold by lohn Benson, dwelling in

|
|

S'. Dunstans 1640.

church-yard. |

'
The order of the poems in this volume is very arbitrary, but it is
followed in the editions by Gildon (1710) and Sewell (1725 and 1728),
as well as those published by Ewing (1771), and by Evans (1775). In
all these editions, Sonnets 18, 19, 43, 50, 75, 76, 96, and 126 are
omitted, and Sonnets 138 and 144 are given in the form in which
they appear in the Passionate Pilgrim.
'
It was in 1709 (according to Lowndes, Bibliographer s Manual, ed.

Bohn) that the whole of Shakespeare's minor poems were issued in a

small 8vo form, under the title :

A collection of Poems, in Two Volumes ; Being all the Miscellanies

of Mr. William Shakespeare, which were Publish'd by himself in the
Year 1609, and now correctly Printed from those Editions. The
First Volume I. VENUS and ADONIS.
contains. II. The Rape of

Lucrece. The Passionate Pilgrim.

III. IV. Some Sonnets set to
sundry Notes of Musick. The Second Volume contains One Hundred
and Fifty Four Sonnets, all of them in Praise of his Mistress. II. A
Lover's Complaint of his Angry Mistress. LONDON: Printed for
Bernard Lintott, at the Cross-Keys, between the Two Temple-Gates, in
Fleet-street.

'
No editor's name is given, and in Bonn's edition of Lowndes it is
wrongly assigned to Gildon, who, as appears by Sewell 's Preface,
edited the Poems in 1710, with an introduction containing remarks
upon the plays. The readings from this edition are therefore quoted
by us as those of Lintott. In Capell's copy, with which he evidently
intended to go to press, there are many corrections and emendations,
which we have referred to as " Capell MS." This volume appears after
wards to have passed through Farmer's hands, as there is a note in his
"
handwriting at the end of the Advertisement." Possibly, therefore,
it may have been seen
by Malone, and as many of the alterations pro
posed by Capell were adopted by Malone or subsequent editors, we
have indicated this coincidence by quoting them as " Malone (Capell
" '
MS. ) or the like.
It willbe seen from this lucid exposition by the Cambridge Editors
that The Sonnets were not republished, as they appeared during
their author's lifetime in 1609, until 1709(?) in the second volume of
244 NOTES
Liiitott's edition ; and that, when so published, they were erroneously

put forward as having

all been written to the poet's mistress. A like
carelessness marks the description of A Lover's Complaint, which is
not the complaint of a man against his angry mistress,' but of a
'

woman forsaken by a man. The cause of this error is not far to seek ;
nor the reason for its persistence. John Benson's medley of 1640 had
been followed by Gildon, Sewell, Ewing, and Evans, and was incor
into Howe's editions of Shakespeare, in six vols., of 1709
porated, also,
and 1714. It lingered on at Boston, U.S.A., in editions of 1807, 1810
(cited by Dowden),
but in this country it was scotched, if not killed,
when, as Mr. Dowden points out, Malone in 1780 published his sup
of Shakespeare's Plays of 1778, arid avowed, as
plement to the edition
the opinion of himself, Dr. Farmer, Mr. Tyrwhitt, and Mr. Steevens,
'
that more than one hundred of the sonnets were addressed to a male
object.' These gentlemen were probably guided to this conclusion by
the republication of the Sonnets, in their original order, in Vol. iv. of
Steeveus's Twenty Plays, 1766. (Dowden.)
The only early editions of the Sonnets, as they originally appeared,
are therefore (1) Lintott's second volume, undated, but attributed to
'
1709, according to Lowndes, and advertised in the Post Boy of 24th-
27th February 1710-11' (Dowdeu); and (2) in Vol. iv. of Steevens's
Twenty Plays, 1766.

III. The Date of the Sonnets Composition. A clue, so far as I am

aware, unnoted, which may assist in dating the Sonnets, occurs in Sonnet
XGVIII. 1-4 (I retain the spelling and type of the Quarto 1609) :

'
From you have I been absent in the spring
When proud pide Aprill (drest in all his trim)
Hath put a spirit of youth in euery thing :

That heauie Satume laught and leapt with him.'

Our Poet, describing an absence in the spring, here associates Saturn

with the burst of new life in April. A visual apprehension of Nature,
at once accurate and sensuous, is a marked feature of his style, and,

specially, in the case of the luminaries and of all effects of light in the
heavens. The sun, the moon, 'that full star that ushers in the even,'
'
'
the grey cheeks of the East before dawn, ' the twilight after . . .

sunset fadeth in the West,' are noted with a vivid appreciation in

Venus, Lucrece, and the Sonnets. And, again, in accordance with the
prevailing belief of his age, he attributes occult power to the stars.
'
Indeed, he derives the ascription of heaviness' to Saturn in this
passage from books on Astrology a science which seems to have
:

engaged his interest no than the other sciences of his day.

less

Knowing the astrological characteristics of Saturn, he finds it effective

 SONNETS 245
to contrast that 'leaden' planet with the exhilarating outburst of April.
But he would not, I am convinced, have done so had not Saturn heen
a visible feature in the sky during- the month of April to which he
refers. To have dragged Saturn, without reason or rhyme, into a
description of a particular month of April would have heen a freak
without a parallel in his poems. I am indebted to my friend, Dr.
Dobie, for the information, derived by him from competent authorities,
that, taking the years 1592-1(501), Saturn was in opposition, and, there
fore, a somewhat conspicuous feature in the sky during the month of
April in the years 1600, 1(501. This is confirmed by Mr. Heath, of the
Royal Observatory, Edinburgh, with whom Mr. VV. Klaikie lias kindly
conferred on this question. Mr. Heath informs me that Leovitius
in hisEphemeris (Ephemeridum Xovum ntque insigne opus ah Anno
Domini 1556 usque 1(506) gives the dates of the opposition of Saturn
as follow :
1599, March 24; 1(500, April 4; 1(501, April 17; 1602,
April 29; 1603, May 11. The planet would have been bright for
some nights both before and after opposition, but, since it rose,
according to Mr. Blaikie, about sunset in April 1(500 and gradually
later in the Aprils of succeeding years, my suggestion that Shake

speare had the real planet in his mind would still fit in with the
years 1602 and 1608, when opposition fell respectively on April 29
and May11, while it would hardly fit in with an earlier date than
1600. Saturn would have been a conspicuous figure in the even
ing sky, rising in the heavens to much the same height as Sirius.
In confirmation of my theory, it should be remembered that Saturn
goes through a series of changes according as his rings are tilted to
wards us or presented edge on. During the early years of the century,
the apparent opening of the rings would be steadily increasing until
April 1st, 1605, which Mr. Heath has calculated as the date of
maximum opening, when the planet at opposition must have shown
a very large bright disc. This calculation tallies with Galileo's
historical mystification at the disappearance of Saturn's accessories

(the rings were not then known) in 1(512 (Grant's History of Phys
ical Astronomy, 255). To sum up : if, as I hold, Shakespeare wrote
Sonnet xcviu. with the real Saturn in his mind, then he cannot
have written it before 1600 and may, with greater probability, have
written it in 1601 or 1602, when Saturn was more conspicuous and
gradually presenting a larger disc. Now Sonnet xcviu. comes in at a
point where the First Series (i.-oxxvi.) is most obviously broken xcvi.
;

closes Group F (LXXXVII.-XCVI.); xcvn. refers to an absence in late

summer and autumn ; xcviu., as 1 have said, to an absence in April :

'
xcix. is a variant of xcviu. c. opens the
; satire to decay,' which is a
continuous poem of retrospect (c.-oxxvi.). And we learn from civ. that
246 NOTES
this poem was written three years after the Poet first made acquaint
ance with the Friend. Assuming, therefore, that the explanation of
this reference to Saturn, which I submit as the most plausible, be

accepted as the correct explanation, we may infer that the latest group
(c.-cxxvi.)was not written before May 1600, possibly not before May
1602 ; and that the earlier groups, which are fairly continuous, were
not written before 1597, possibly not before 1599.
In cvu. 1. 5 :

'
The mortall Moone hath her eclipse indur'de,'

many have found an allusion to some contemporary crisis in politics

the revolt of Essex or the death of the Queen. I am disposed to

think it more probable that the line refers to an actual eclipse of the
moon, which had been made the ground for gloomy prognostications.
When contemporary poets allude to political crises they make their
reference explicit. Drayton, e.g. in Idea, LI. (1619) first published
in that year, but written apparently in 1604 has :

'

Lastly, mine eyes amazedly have seen

Essex's great fall Tyrone his peace to gain
! !

The quiet end of that long living Queen !

'
This King's fair Entrace and our peace with Spain
! !

Shakespeare in the Sonnets has no such explicit references, and his

f
the mortall moone,' if it mean the moon in deadly case/
f
phrase,
is quite in his manner of describing a natural phenomenon such as an

eclipse. There were twenty-one eclipses of the moon, total or partial,

visible at Greenwich during the years 1592-1609. So that the
champions of an early date for the Sonnets may find their affair in this
matter as readily as the champions of a late date. But if we accept
Tyler's suggestion that the reference to 'this most balmy time' in
cvu. proves that the sonnet was written in late spring, summer, or
early autumn, and if my suggestion for the dating of xcvui. be also
accepted, then, of such eclipses, three remain available. Taking the
Greenwich mean time of central conjunction you have :
June 4th, 1602. 6.18 P.M. Duration . . 3 hours 42 min.
Total, seen only as partial at Greenwich.
May 24th, 1603. 11.30 P.M. Duration . . 2 hours 46 min.
Partial, but seen for the full duration at Greenwich.
April 3rd, 1605. 8.24 P.M. Duration . . hours 20 min.
Total and entirely seen at Greenwich.

These three, also, occurred at hours which ensured the excitement of

greater comment than in the case of eclipses in the small hours of
the morning. The eclipse of May 24, 1603 since it lasted much
longer than the eclipse of April 3, 1605, and since, owing to its
 SONNETS 247
hour and the time of the year, it must have been more noticeable than
the eclipse of June 4, 1602 may, perhaps, be given the pride of place.
Its acceptance also admits of one of those secondary allusions in this
case to the death of Elizabeth, March 23, 1603 which are so common
in Shakespeare's verse. I ought to add that Mr. Heath and Mr. Blaikie
agree in thinking that I have not given sufficient weight to the eclipse
of 1605.
The article on Shakespeare was published in the Dictionary of
National Biography since the Introduction to this volume was in
type. In it Mr. Sidney Lee throws over the theory put forward in
his earlier article on William Herbert: viz. that most of the

Sonnets were written after 1597 and addressed to Herbert for :

f
the theory that the bulk of them were composed within a brief
period of the publication of his (Shakespeare's) narrative poems in
1594,' and that they were addressed to Southampton. No better
illustration of the Personal Problem's perplexity could be found than
in a change of front so sudden on the part of so earnest a scholar.

But, since Mr. Lee argues at length against the date which I have
ventured to ascribe to the Sonnets, it is due to him that I should
examine his argument. I do so with reluctance, for Mr. Lee rests his
argument in favour of a date prior to 1595, in part on the assumption
that Southampton was the youth addressed in the First Series of
Sonnets, and any such attempt at identification, of necessity specula
tive and laborious, must, as I have said, prove detrimental to an
aesthetic appreciation of their lyrical excellence. I shall, therefore,

endeavour to restrict myself, in so far as I may, to the simple question

of date. In support of the assumed identification, Mr. Lee puts in no
new piece of evidence, but insists, somewhat unduly, on one already
c
familiar, viz. : that some of the phrases in the dedication to Lucrece
closely resemble expressions that were addressed to the young friend.'
(
This cannot, as he urges, be said to identify the latter with Southamp
ton.' At most it raises a presumption, to be discounted in view of
the warmly affectionate language common in contemporary dedications.
On the other hand, if anything may safely be asserted, it is that the
'
Youth's Christian name was Will.' Mr. Lee attributes this ' misin
' '
terpretation to the misprinting in the early editions of the second
"will" as
" Witt" in cxxxv. 1. 1
'
an error for 1. 2? I have argued
(Note V., on the Typography of the Quarto 1609) that such words are
so printed by design throughout the Sonnets. In any case it is im
possible to prove the identity of the youth, and, therefore, illegitimate
to found an argument for this or that date on any assumed identifica
tion. The proof of an early date would disprove the Herbert theory,
of a late date, the Southampton theory. But even on the question of
248 NOTES
date more than probability cannot be hoped for. Let me, however,
assay Mr. Lee's arguments for a date prior to 1595.
Shakespeare's early proficiency as a sonneteer and his en
f
(1)
thusiasm for the sonnet form are both attested by his introduction of
two admirably turned sonnets into the dramatic dialogue of Loves
Labour's Lost.' But one sonnet in the play If Love make me
forsworn, how shall I swear to love like many of Sidney's and of
Drayton's in his first edition (1594), is written in Alexandrines.
Another So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not is a caudated sonnet
with two couplets instead of one after the third quatrain. Mr. Lee
may have omitted this sonnet from his reference on that account, but
on that very account does it militate against his argument, since it
leaves but one out of the three Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine
eye in the form which Shakespeare sustained, excepting CXLV.,

throughout The Sonnets. These three, then, show that he handled

the sonnet form at the date (?) of their composition with a hesitancy
still common among sonneteers Sidney, Drayton, Daniel in 1594,
but of which he shows no trace in The Sonnets (1609). (2) { Meres,
ef
writing in 1598, mentions Shakespeare's sugred sonnets among his
private friends." But are the majority of The Sonnets "sugred"'?
'
(3) That all the Sonnets were in existence before Meres wrote is ren
dered probable by the fact that William Jaggard piratically inserted in
1599 two of the most mature of the series (Nos. cxxxvin. and CXLIV.) in
' '
his Passionate Pilgrim,' In what sense are these two mature ? That

they came late in the whole collection proves nothing. They were
placed in the Second Series (vide Introduction, p. cxv) because they
were not addressed to the youth to whom all the numbers (i.-cxxvi.) of
the First Series were addressed. But they were obviously written
at the same time and on the same theme as the sonnets of Group C
'
(XXXIII.-XLII.). Certainly they are not mature,' if compared with
LVI.-CXXV., either in thought or expression :

'
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we nattered be.' cxxxvui.

'
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.' CXLIV.

f '
These are a wanton burden of the prime by far removed from the
'
solemnity of the later groups big with rich increase.'
Indeed the presumption raised by Jaggard's Passionate Pilgrim is
all the other
way. It is largely made up of numbers pirated from

publications which shortly preceded it :

e.g. 8 and 20 from Barne-
 SONNETS 249
1598; 11 from Griffin, 1596; 17 from Weelkes, 1597.
1
field, If all
The Sonnets had been in existence for more than four years, it is
improbable that Jaggard would have failed to secure more than two,
anxious as he was to palm off the whole of his precious collection for
Shakespeare's ; on the other hand it is probable that he took the two
which he did secure, even as he- took the new numbers by other poets,
and the two sonnets and a song from Love's Labour 's Lost, published
in 1598 viz., because they were new and accessible. Love's Labour's
Lost may well have been written earlier, as many have argued from
internal evidence (Dowden conjectures in 1590). But, if that be so,
and, again, if the first acting version contained these sonnets, which
cannot be proved, we must consider the well-known jealousy with
which players guarded their property in unpublished MS. plays. That
two of the Sonnets (cxxxvni. , CXMV. ) were printed by Jaggard with
variations from the text of 1G09 proves that they and their analogues
in the Second Series and in the First (XXXIII.-XLII.) existed early in
1599 that no more were printed makes it probable that the later
;

groups did not exist. And this probability is increased by the fact
that Group C followed by occasional and unconnected
(XXXIII.-XLII.) is

numbers, and that the next Group, D (LVI.-LXXIV.), opens after a

f
silence Sweet love renew thy force.'
:

(4)
'
A line from a fully accredited sonnet (xciv. ) was quoted in
Edward III., which was probably written before 1595.' Here, against
Mr. Lee, I set Dowden (Shakspere's Sonnets, 1881). 'The last line
of xciv.,
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds,

occurs also in the play, King Edward 111. (printed 1596), in a part of
the play ascribed by some critics to Shakespeare. cannot say for We
certain whether the play borrows from the sonnet, or the sonnet from
the play. The latter seems to me
the more likely supposition of the
c
two.' Dowden also cites Tyler's
ingenious argument' (republished,
Shakespeare's Sonnets, 1890, pp. 18-21) that LV. is a paraphrase of a
passage in Meres' Palladis Tamice (1598). The argument is more than
ingenious; it is convincing. For Shakespeare echoes Meres not
only in his quotation from Horace Exegi monimentum, etc. but in
the quotation from Ovid Jamque opus exegi, etc. which Meres set
beside it, and, for a clincher, in the comment which Meres added in
'
his own English and Latin So say I severally of Sir Philip Sidneys,
:

Spencers, Daniels, Draytons, Shakespeares and Warners workes

Non jovis ira, imbres, Mars, ferrum, flamma, senectus,
y
Hoc opus unda, lues, turbo, vcnena ruit.

1
Halliwell-Phillipps.
250 NOTES
If Tyler's argument be accepted, it follows that LV. was written after
1598.
(5) Mr. Lee cites 'Willobie his Avisa' (1594), and, again, I set
Assuming that W. S. is William Shakspere'
(
Dowden against him:
a large assumption 'we learn that he had loved and recovered
from the infection of his passion before the end of 1594. The chaste
Avisa is unlike as possible the dark woman of the Sonnets nor does ;

anything appear which can connect Henry Willobie with Shake

speare'syoung friend of the Sonnets, except the fact that the initials
of the only begetter's name were W. H. those of Henry Willobie
reversed and that Henry Willobie assails the chastity of a married
woman. He is, however, repulsed by the chaste Avisa. Except in
the reference to W. S.'s love and his recovery from passion, I see no
possible point of connection between Willobie's Avisa and Shake
speare's Sonnets.' Mr. Lee's citation is beside the mark, unless his
assumptions be accepted (1) that W. S.
: = Shakespeare ; (2) that
Henry Willobie = Southampton. But there was a real Henry Willobie
who matriculated in St. John's, Oxford, 1591, whereas Southampton
graduated in St. John's, Cambridge, 1589 ; (3) that Southampton = the
Friend of the Sonnets. And these assumptions can hardly be called
plausible.
If I may hazard my own opinion, I would say that the balance of
external evidence suggests for the earliest groups only (A, B, C, I-XLII.,
and the Second Series, CXXVII.-CLIV.) a date before, but not long before,
1599 : that the internal evidence ofciv. proves the latest groups

(c.-cxxv.) to havebeen written three years later that the melancholy

:

languor, the metaphysical speculation, the poetical perfection, of the

later groups (D, E, F, G, LVI.-CXXV.) disclose a near affinity to Hamlet,
entered in the Stationers' Register, July 26, 1602. I would, further,

submit that, in the events of the year 1601 the execution of Essex ;
:

the imprisonment of Shakespeare's early patron Southampton in con

sequence of the Rising; the arrest of his colleague Phillips in
connection with it ; the exile of his company in Scotland while the
'
Children of the Chapel' enjoyed the favour it had lost; the jar and
fret of the Poetomachia ; the imprisonment of Mary Fytton, who
affected masquerade and had befriended his colleague Kempe the ;

'
imprisonment of William Herbert, who had prosecuted him with
'
favour there is enough to account for the mood in which much of
Hamlet and many of the later Sonnets are conceived. I am not there
fore bound to accept Tyler's identification of the youth with William
Herbert and of the Dark Lady with Mary Fytton. But neither am I
precluded from doing so. And Tyler at least has proved that, in the
last years of Elizabeth's reign, some such a drama as that which we
 SONNETS 251
guess behind certain of the Sonnets, was possible among the most
highly placed of her play-loving courtiers and court-ladies. Lady
Newdegate-Newdigate (Gossip from a Muniment Room, 1897) shows
further that Mary Fytton's actual experience was at least as compli
cated as the love-drama suggested by Group C. and the Second Series
of the Sonnets. For we find Sir William Knollys, into whose charge
the young maid of honour had been confided by her father, courting
her during the lifetime of his own wife, and both before, and after,
she became Will Herbert's mistress.

IV. The Rival Poets. (I) There were more rival Poets than one.
This is evident from Sonnet LXXVIII. 1-4 :

'
So oftI invoked thee for my Muse,
have
And found such fair assistance in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use,
And under thee their poetry disperse ; '

and from j,xxxm. 11-14 :

'
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.'
'
Here, when the Poet is 'mute' and hors concours, others' would
give life, and two among them fail to add anything to the mere
beauty of the Friend and from LXXXII. 1-4 ;
:

I grant thou wert not married to my Muse

'

And therefore may'st without attaint o'erlook

The dedicated words which writers use
Of their fair subject, blessing every book.'

But in xxi. one Poet is singled out :

not with me as with that Muse,

'
So is it

Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse,

Who heaven itself for ornament doth use,
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse.'
And the same, or another, is singled out in LXXIX. 4 :
'
And my sick Muse doth give another place
'
;

and in LXXX. :

'
O How I faint when I of you do write
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name.'

(2) These others, including the one singled out, affect learning,
which our poet rejects as unsuited to a beauty best praised by simple
statement ; cf. xxi. 1-4 (supra), and 9 :

'
O let me, true in love, but truly write. . . .'
252 NOTES
LXXVIII. 5-8.
'
Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly,
Have added feathers to the learned's wing
And given grace a double majesty.'
LXXX. 11-12.
'
I am a worthless boat,
He of tall building and of goodly pride.'
'
LXXXII. 5-8. Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise ;
And, therefore, art enforced to seek anew
Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days.

LXXXV. 1-8.
'

My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,

While comments of your praise richly-compiled,
Keserve their character with golden quill
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
I think good thoughts, whilst others write good words,

And, like unletter'd clerk, still crie, Amen,

To every hymn that able spirit affords
In polished form of well refined pen.'

(3) The one Poet singled out cannot, I submit, be confidently identi
fied. We know from Sidney's Apology (see Introduction, p. cvi.) that
' '
the practice of eternizing was common ; but much of this verse has
perished. We know from Shakespeare's Sonnets that other Poets
'
'
eternized his Friend in a style which was learned, novel, and florid ;

' ' ' '

but their couplements of proud compare and precious phrase are
no longer extant, or, if extant, have been so dissembled as to disguise
all evidence of dedication to the same person. Any guess, however
ingenious, must therefore be qualified by the acknowledgment that
masses of material, vital to the issue, which once existed are no longer
accessible, and that, in the sonnet-sequences of Daniel and, particu
larly, who do eternize' after Shakespeare's manner,
of Drayton, c

there some impenetrable mystification. It is clear that of Daniel's

is

sonnets only a minority were truly addressed to ' Delia,' and among
Drayton's one at least (x. of ed. 1619) is addressed to a man :

'

To nothing fitter can I thee compare

Than to the son of some rich penny-father '
;

while another (xxii., 1619) is even more startling. The feminine was
substituted for the masculine gender in several of Shakespeare's
Sonnets by the Editors of 1640. To sum up we have but little out :

of much evidence which once existed, and, of that little, some is

suspect.
(4) But the quest for the Rival Poet is not barren. It reveals a
certain amount of verse, Drayton's in particular, which is akin to
Shakespeare's, insomuch as that it deals with metaphysical conceits,
 SONNETS 253
with Platonic speculation, and witli attacks on Time. It reveals also a
coterie of poets did affect learning, who praised each other, and
who
who ignored Shakespeare or damned him with faint praise. Let me
pass these arrogant ones in review :

Ben Jonson. Jonson praised Shakespeare (with a fair admixture of

criticism) after his death but not before it (see Introduction, pp.
;

Ivii., Iviii.). He collaborated with Chapman and with Marston. He

praisesDrayton effusively, comparing him to Theocritus, Virgil, Ovid,
Orpheus, and Lucan :

'
It hath been question'd, Michael, if I be
A friend at all ; or, if at all, to thee.'

Thus he opens The Vision of Ben Johnson on the Muses of Ms Friend,

M. Drayton, and thus he closes it :

'
I call the world, that envies me, to see
If I can be a friend, and friend to thee.'

Drayton returns the compliment to

'
Learned Jolmson . . .

Who had drunk deep of the Pierian spring

"Where knowledge did him worthily prefer,
And long was lord here of the theatre.'
Epistle to Henry Reynolds.
Chapman also praises Jonson, and so does Marston. Jonson was the
leader of this learned fraternity of log-rollers. He told Drummond
that 'he loved Chapman.' But he did not, so far as we know,
'
eternize.' He did, however, dedicate his works to young noblemen :

Sejanus to Lord Aubigny (see Introduction, p. xxix.), Catiline to

William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, in 1611, and also his Epigrams,
'
with a dedication at which many have paused My lord, while you :

cannot change your merit, I dare not change your title it was that :

made it, and not I. Under which name, I here offer to your lordship
the ripest of my studies, my Epigrams; which though they carry
danger in the sound, do not therefore seek your shelter ; for, when
I made them, I had nothing in my conscience, to expressing of which
I did need a cypher.' One Epigram is addressed to Herbert :

do but name thee, Pembroke, and

'
I I find
It is an epigram on all mankind.'
'
Sometimes his '
dedications seem to have led him further than he
cared to go. He addresses his Muse (Epigram LXV.) :

Away, and leave me, thou thing most abhorred,

'

That hast betray'd me to a worthless lord ;

Hade me commit most fierce idolatry

To a great image through thy luxury.'
254 NOTES
He col
Marston.-Mzrston was one of the learned fraternity.
Jonson, and
laborated with Jonson and Chapman, complimented
Introduction, pp. Ixii., Ixiii.). His sixth
burlesqued Shakespeare (see '

declares his nasty Pygmalion the

<
satire (Scourge of Villainy, 1598)
is his own which is imitated from Shakespeare's Venus and
epithet
written to note
Adonis, to be a parody,
'
The odious spot
And blemish that deforms the lineaments
Of modern poesy's habiliments.'

And he goes on, in abominable verse, but with the very trick of
Jonson and the other pedants, when appraising Shakespeare's art :

'
O that the beauties of invention,
For want of judgment's disposition,
Should all be spoil'd O that such treasury,
!

Such strain of well-conceited poesy,

Should moulded be in such a shapeless form,
That want of art should make such wit a scorn.'
f
In view of Shakespeare's Sonnet LXXXVI. his spirit, by spirits

taught to write he,...

nor that affable familiar ghost' we may
note Marston's pretensions here :

'
Think' st thou that genius that attends my soul,
And guides my to scourge magnificos,
fist
'
"Will deign my mind be ranked in Paphian shows ;

and in his contribution to Robert Chester's Love's Martyr (1601) :

'
Tell me, genuine Muse !

Now yield your aids, you spirits that infuse

A sacred rapture, light my weaker eye.'
'
'
George Chapman. Chapman was the most arrogant of the Grecian
camp (see Introduction, pp. Ixv., Ixvi.). Jonson and Drayton prefixed
commendatory verses to his Hesiod (1618). Minto discovers him
for the Rival Poet. Minto quotes from the Dedication of his Shadow

of Night (1594) :
'
Now what a supererogation in wit this is, to think
Skill so mightily pierced with their loves that she should prostitutely
show them her secrets, when she will scarcely be looked upon by others
but with invocation, fasting, watching ; yea, not without having drops
'
of their souls like a This reproof of the unlearned
heavenly familiar.
is
quite in his manner, and in the manner of his log-rolling friends,
but it makes no such claim as Marston's to
supernatural guidance.
Dowden is disposed to corroborate Minto, but Chapman did not
'eternize.' His sonnets to Pembroke and
Southampton are but two
out of sixteen addressed to
peers and peeresses, all appended, as an
 SONNETS 255
acknowledgment of Patronage, to his Homer s Iliads. He styles
Pembroke 'the learned,' and harps, as ever, on c god-like learning.'
'
His reference to his e adventurous bark in verses appended to the
'
Odyssey would in with Shakespeare's allusion to the
fit proud full
(
sail' of the Rival's great verse.' But these verses were written after
the Sonnets were published, viz. in 1614. One of Chapman's many
diatribes against the unlearned has, however, an alluring aspect. In
'
the preface to the reader prefixed to Homer s Iliads he writes But :

there is a certain envious windsucker that hovers up and

(
= kestrel)
down, laboriously engrossing all the air with his luxurious ambition,
and buzzing into every ear my detraction, affirming I turn Homer out
of Latin only, etc., that sets all his associates, and the whole rabbel of
my maligners on their wings with him, to bear about my impair, and
poison my reputation. One that, as he thinks, whatsoever he gives
to others, he takes from himself. For so this castrill ( = kestrel)
. . .

with too hot a liver, and lust after his own glory, and to devour all
himself, discourageth all appetites to fame of another. I have

stricken, single him as you can.' This is but Greene's attack on

'
Shakespeare in other terms the upstart crow, beautified with other
'
men's feathers and, since on this quest to avoid the far-fetched is to
return empty-handed, we may remember that Shakespeare's new-
gotten crest was a falcon. This would scarce be worth noting, but
for a certain passage in Draytou.

Michael Drayton. Jonson refers to Drayton's Owl:

'
I saw Minerva's fowl
Perched over head, the wise Athenian owl.'
The Owl is an allegory on the convention of Chaucer's Parliament of
Fowls. In it the
poet who has fallen asleep dreams of an Owl,
evidently himself, who is attacked by birds of prey, 'the envious
f
Crow, the hateful Buzzard,' and others, that only live upon the
poorer's spoil.' The Eagle arrives and the Owl pleads his cause :

' '

Though now thus poor he hails from Athens, the Muses' nursery,
'

the source of science and philosophy.' In fact the Owl talks for all
the world like the learned log-rollers : <I seek not fame,
knowledge
I love, and glory in the same.' And the chief object of his complaint
is the Buzzard, who tricks himself out as a Falcon :

'
I saw a Buzzard, scorning of the black,
That but of late did clothe his needy back,
"With Ostrich feathers had trickt up his crest,
As he were bred a Falcon at the least.
Thus struts he daily in his borrow'd plume,
And but for shame he boldly durst presume
With princely Eaglets to compare his sight.'
256 NOTES
'
Drayton did eternize'; and with an accent so unmistakably akin
to Shakespeare's that the charge of plagiarism has been preferred,
now against one and now against the other. I have instanced (Note
on Lucrece, 1128-1134) a more than suspicious likeness between
those lines, published by Shakespeare in 1594, and a sonnet of
Drayton's which appears for the first time in the Idea of 1599. Fleay,
who argues on the other side ' that these sonnets were the immediate
'
model of Shakespeare's, I cannot doubt omitted to collate the Idea
of 1619 with the previous versions of 1594 and 1599. Tyler has
pointed this out, and the case against Fleay is overwhelming. He
instances (Chronicle of the English Drama., n. 226) Drayton in. and
xvn. both are in the edition of 1594, but both have been completely
:

rewritten (in., numbered x. in 1594, has there two quatrains written,

excepting line 5, in Alexandrines): with XL, xx., xxix., xxxi.,
XLIV. but those which appear, mostly under other numbers in 1599,
:

are not in the Amours of 1594 and XLIII., XLVII., LXI. : but these
:

are not to be found in either of the early Editions, and appear for the
first time in 1619, ten years after Shakespeare's Sonnets were pub
lished. Drayton was condemned for a plagiary even in 1598 in
Guilpin's Skialetheia :

'

Drayton 's condemned of some for imitation

But others say 'twas the best Poets fashion.'

Draytou in the Epistle to Henry Reynolds, whilst lavishing warm,

'
but orthodox, praise on ' learn'd Jonson and ' reverend Chapman,'
e
gives to Shakespeare the cool, but orthodox, tribute of the learned/
for his f smoothe comickvein' and natural brain.' He had praised
him (in the Matilda) more frankly, together with Daniel and Elstred.
But the stanza in which he applauds Lucrece in the Edition of 1594
was omitted from the Edition of 1596, and never reprinted. For
( '

Drayton, too, was one of the learned hailed as such by Barnefield

in his Encomium of Lady Pecunia in 1598. And, finally, Drayton
the
was part author of The True and Honorable History of Sir John Oldcastle
(1600), which (see Introduction, pp. 1., li._, lii.) was a retort on Shake
speare's Henry IV.
Such were the relations between Drayton, one of the learned
fraternity, and Shakespeare, in so far as we may divine them. In
Idea, where many sonnets resemble Shakespeare's, let me instance
the one which is obviously addressed to a man :

'
To nothing fitter can I thee compare,
Than to the son of some rich penny-father . . .

Thy Gifts,thou in obscurity dost waste !

False friends, thy Kindness born but to deceive thee.

!
 SONNETS 257
Thy Love on the unworthy placed
that is !

Time hath thy Beauty, which with age will leave thee !

Only that little, which to me was lent,

I give thee back when all the rest is spent.'
!

This Sonnet Edition 1619 appears for the first time, as xn. , in
x. in

1599. It is followed in both Editions by one on Shakespeare's theme

of Identity :

1
Since You one were, I never since was one ;

Since You in Me, my self since out of Me ...

Give me my self ! and take your self again ! . . .

O that I could fly

From my self You, or from your own self I !
'

XLIIJ. (only in Edition 1619) attacks the unlearned,, who are favoured
by the object of Drayton's verse :

'

Why should your fair eyes, with such sovereign grace,

Disperse their rays on every vulgar spirit,
Whilst I in darkness, in the self-same place,
'
Get not one glance to recompense my merit ?
The second quatrain seems suggested by Shakespeare's cxvi. (see Note).
The third goes on :

'
O why should Beauty (custom to obey)
To their gross sense apply herself so ill !

Would God I were as ignorant as they

! !

When I am made unhappy by my skill !

'

This modest expression of regret is the symmetrical opposite at

every point to Shakespeare's references to the Rival. He is the

'
f '
unletter'd clerk who
'
cries. Amen,' to the precious phrase by all
the Muses filed.'
'
In XLIV. (only in Edition 1619) Drayton eternizes' in Shakespeare's
very accent :

'
Whilst thus my pen strives to eternize thee,
Age my lines with wrinkles in my face
rules ;

Where, in the Map of all my misery

Is modelled out the World of my disgrace :

Whilst in despite of tyrannizing times,

Medea like, I make thee young again !

Proudly thou scorn'st my world-outwearing rhymes,

And murder'st Virtue with thy coy disdain !

And though in youth, my

youth untimely perish,
To keep Thee from oblivion and the grave ;
Ensuing Ages yet my Rhymes shall cherish,
Where I entombed, my better part shall save ;

And though this earthly body fade and die,

My Name shall mount upon eternity
'
!

B
258 NOTES
In XLVII. (only in Edition 1619) Drayton explains that he despised
'
'
the applause of the thronged theatres :

When the proud Round on every side hath rung

'
. . .

No public glory vainly I pursue :

'
Alt that I seek is to eternize you !

the Rival's verse to a

Shakespeare twice (LXXX., LXXXVI.) compares
' '
(
'
of proud full sail that rides the soundless deep and Drayton :
ship
'
in i. (only in Edition 1619) introduces himself Like an adventurous
seafarer am I ... called to tell of his discovery, how far he sailed, what
countries he had seen/ Shakespeare dwells on the simplicity of his
' '
'
verse; on the false art/ strained touches/ false painting/ and
(
f
precious phrase/ of the Rival ;
and Drayton boasts, fantasticly I
sing' (1599), and asks (ix. 1619) :

'
"Why in this sort I wrest Invention so ?
And why these giddy metaphors I use. . . .'

If compelled to select one of Shakespeare's contemporaries for the

Rival Poet, I should select Drayton; although his sonnets, twice
recast, were ostensibly addressed to Idea, and although in some
numbers he addresses Idea, the Type of Heavenly Beauty, in the
feminine gender. But there is no compulsion, nor possibility, of
certitude, and this much of knowledge must be the sole certain reward
of a wild-goose-chase that Jonson, Chapman, Marston, and Drayton
:

constituted a society for mutual admiration, whose members applauded

each other's efforts, whilst they ignored, burlesqued, or patronised

Shakespeare's. Three of the four seem to have opposed Shakespeare

in the Poetomachia (see Introduction, chap, viii.), and the fourth,

Drayton, was similarly employed in The True and Honorable History of

Sir John Oldcastle.Curiously enough, the three all wrote obscure poems
on the Phrenix and the Turtle, appended, with one by Shakespeare, to
Robert Chester's Loves Martyr. And Drayton, also, had a sonnet on the
same theme. It is impossible to understand exactly what these poems
are about. But it is interesting to note that they all contain attacks on
Time and that they all draw on the catch-words of Platonism :

'

Nought doth to outward worth contend

lasts that
All love in smooth brows born is tomb'd in wrinkles . . .

And Time and Change (that all things else devours,

But truth eternized in a constant heart). . . .' CHAPMAN.
'
Now, true love
No such effects doth prove ;

That is an essence, far more gentle, fine,

Pure, perfect, nay divine ;
It is a golden chain let down from Heaven. . . .' JONSON.
 SONNETS 259
'
Now yield your aids, you spirits that infuse
A sacred rapture, light my weaker eye . . .

That whilst of this same Metaphysical,

God, man, nor woman, but elix'd of all,
My laboring thoughts with strained ardour sing,
My muse may mount with an uncommon wing.'
Dares then thy too audacious sense
Presume define that boundless ENS
That amplest thought transcendeth. . . .

By it all beings deck'd and strained,

Ideas that are idly feigned
Only here subsist invested . . .' MARSTON.
'
Property was thus appalled
That the self was not the same
Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was called. . . .

Truth may seem, but cannot be ;

Beauty brag, but 'tis not she ;

Truth and beauty buried be.' SHAKESPEARE.

'
These four poems were thus announced Divers Poeticall Essaies
:

on the Turtle and Phoenix. Done by the best and chiefest of our
moderue writers, with their names subscribed to their particular
workes never before extant. And now first consecrated by them all
;

generally to the love and merit of the true noble Knight, Sir John
Salisburie. Dignum laude virum musa vetat mori. MDC.I. (Printed
at the end of Love's Martyr, etc., by Robert Chester) London :

Imprinted for E. B. 1601. page 176.'

Drayton's sonnet to the Phoenix one of the many numbers of
Idea (xvi. in Edition 1619, rewritten from Amour, vi., Edition 1594)
evidently not addressed to a living lady, ends :

'
As you are consuming,
Only by dying born the very same,
And winged by Fame, you to the stars ascend !

So you, of time shall live beyond the end.'

V. The Typography of the Quarto (1609), considered in its bearing on
an analysis of the system of Punctuation
the authority of that text, with
observed therein (see Note III. on Lucrece). In Sonnet i. 2, Rose
stands thus in Q. I retain the initial capital and italics, because I am
satisfied that the words in this type were printed so designedly through
out the Sonnets. Controversy has centred round two of them Hews, :

xx. 7,and Witt, cxxxv. 1, 2, 11, 12, 14; cxxxvi. 2, 5, 14; cxmi. 13. Mr.
Sidney Lee writes (Dictionary of National Biography, vol. LI. p. 365):
'
There is nothing in the wording of these punning Sonnets to warrant
260 NOTES
the assumption that his friend bore the same appellation (this misin
is attributable to the misprinting in the early editions of
terpretation
the second "will" as
" Will" in cxxxv. an error for 2. Mr.
1)'
Dowden, in discussing 1. 7 of xx. as printed in the Quarto :

'A man in hew all Hews in his controwling' :

f
discounts the possible significance of hews' (hues) having been
printed
'
Hews,' by pointing out that other words in the Sonnets e have
'
also capital letters and are in italics. That is true. But Mr. Dowden
does not give a complete list. Had he done so he might have been
struck^ as I have been struck, by the fact that, excepting Rose, i. 2 ;
Hews, xx. 7; Informer, cxxv. 13; and the Wills, cxxxv., cxxxvi., CXLIII.,
every word so printed, is either a proper name, or else, of Greek or Latin
extraction. Viz. :
Audit, iv. 12 ; Adonis, Hellens, Grecian, LIII. 5, 7,
8 ; word is printed Statue Venus
Statues, LV. 5 (and note that this
and Adonis, 213 and Statua four times in the Plays) ; Mars, LV, 7 ;
Intrim, LVI. 9; Alien, LXXVIII. 3; Eaves (Eve's), apple, xciu. 13;
Saturne, xcvin. 4 ; Satire, c. 11 ; Philomell, en. 7 ; Autumne, civ. 5 ;
Abisme, cxii. 9 ; Alcumie, cxiv. 4; Syren, cxix. 1 ; HeriticJce, cxxiv. 9;
Audite, Quietus, cxxvi. 11, 12 Cupid, Dyans, Cupid, CLIII. 1, 2, 14.
;

These words, if other than proper names, were so printed then, as

French words are so printed now, viz. : because they were but par
tiallyincorporated into the English language (see Note III. on
Lucrece). This destroys the presumption of accident and creates a
presumption of design, leaving the commentator still free to draw
such conclusions as he can from the selection of capitals and italics
for Rose, Hews, Informer, and Will.
The last two present no difficulty, except to those who would
abstract every personal element out of the Sonnets. 'Informer' is
'
clearly a personal apostrophe ; Will/ as clearly embodies a play on
the poet's name, and occasionally, as I hold with Dowden, but against
Mr. Lee, on the name of his Friend also. ' Will/ although not in
italics, has a capital in LVII. 13 :

'
So true a foole is love, that in your Will,
'
(Though you doe any thing) he thinks no ill :

and is, obviously, so printed there with a like reference to the

it

poet's name. It is only fair to note, once more, in this connection

'
the f Will in Lucrece, 495 :

'
But Will is deaf e, and hears no heedf ull friends,
Onely he hath an eye to gaze on Beautie,
And dotes on what he looks, 'gainst law or duty.'
 SONNETS 261
For if itbe a misprint, may be urged in support of Mr. Lee's con
it

tention in respect of the second Will (cxxxv. 2), and, if it be not a mis
'
print, it may serve the turn of those who, holding the personal
theory,' differ from my conclusion on the date of the Sonnets (supra,
Note III.), and accept Mr. Sidney Lee's, viz. that the Sonnets were
written immediately after Lucrece.
Returning to the two which do present a difficulty Rose and Hews
'
I believe, as I have stated in the Introduction, that
Beauty's Rose'
stands here poetically for the Idea or Eternal Type of Beauty, or, at
least, for the emblem of that idea. It stands, indeed, for one of the

many things which, according to Sir Philip Sidney (Apologie for

f
Poetrie, 1595), lye darke before the imaginatione and judging power,
if they bee not illuminated or figured foorth by the speaking
picture of
Poesie.' It is used to this end with a capital, LXVII. 8 :

'
Why should poore beautie indirectly seeke '
Roses of sliaddow, since his Rose is true ?

and, again with a capital, as the emblem of the Friend, cix. 14 :

'
For nothing this wide Universe I call,
Save thou my Rose, in it thou art my all.'

Of Hews it is enough to say here that, if its capital and italics be a

freak of the printer, they constitute the only freak of that kind in the
whole edition of 1609. This goes far to show that the Quarto was not
and to defeat many conclusions drawn from the
carelessly issued,
opposite assumption,e.g. that it was a pirated edition published with
out Shakespeare's knowledge or against his wishes, and that the
present order of the Sonnets may therefore be treated as hap-hazard.
To press this home, another feature of the Quarto's typography must
now be considered. The number of capitals employed, apart from
italics where we employ them no longer, has been urged in support
of the view that the Quarto was unauthorised. It is therefore

necessary, in order to confirm my argument, that I should trace

design in the use of capitals throughout the edition, even when given
to words in ordinary type.
If all such words be collected, it will be found that they fall, with
scarce an exception, into well-defined classes ; that the employment
of capitals for such classes, though now obsolete, is rational and not
arbitrary; and that it was of a kind sanctioned by contemporary
usage. Some words, with a double justification for their capitals,
might be placed with almost equal propriety under either of two
headings ; but, in order to avoid confusion, I shall content myself
262 NOTES
with accounting for every word so printed under some one heading.
Proceeding from the more to the less obvious classes, all these words
may be grouped thus f f
:

(1) They are Personal Appellations. Will/ LVII. ; deceased Lover/

f f
xxxii.; thou the Master Mistris, xx. ; my lovely Boy,' cxxvi. ;
'
=
Mistersse/ mistresse, cxxvu. ;
' '
Mistres/ cxxx. ; Mistrisse/ CLIV. ;

'
Love-God/ CLIV.
little

(2) Of foreign extraction borrowed, often from

Greek or Latin, as
( ' f
terms of art. Antique/ xvn. ; Image/ xxiv., ixi; Nymphes/
' f '
CLIV. ; Chronicle/ cvi. ; Elements,' XLV. ; Lymbecks/ cxix. ;
' f c '
Augurs,' cvn. ; Epitaph,' LXXXI. ; ldolatrie/ ldoll,'cv. ; Char
1

f e
acter,' Himne/ Amen,' LXXXV. ; and three, which are also legal
'
'
Sessions/ xxx. ; 'Advocate/ xxxv.; Charter/ LXXXVII. The em-
pressment of legal terms into the service of poetry is noticed in the
Arts of English Poesie, 1589, viz. (
A terme borrowed of our common :

Lawyers impression, also a new terme, but well expressing the matter
and more than our English word.' And, in The Guide into Tongues,

1617, a special feature is made of legal terms.

f f
(3) Titles of Dignity. God/ LVIII., ex. ; King(s)/ xxix., LXIII.,
' '
LXXXVII., cxv. ; Queene/ xcvi. ; Princes/ xiv., xxv. ; Lords,' xciv.,
' '
xcvn. Ladies,'
; Knights,' cvi.; 'Generall/ CLIV.; used of the
Love-God in a conceit with Legions (Ibid.) :
'
Which many Legions of true hearts had warm'd
And so the Generall of hot desire.'

1 '

Legions might have been placed under (2), but, apart from that
and its use in this conceit, it is akin to what may be termed words of

magnitude, though not titles, e.g. 'Kingdome/ LXIV. ; 'Maiestie/

'
LXXVIII. Embassie,' XLV.
; Of a kindred character are :

The Names of the Greater Divisions of Time, of Cosmical Processes,

(4)
e
the Luminaries, and the Larger Features of the Universe. Winter(s)/
II.,LVI., xcvii., xcvin., civ. ; 'Sommer^)/ xn., xvm. (3), LVI., xcvn. ;
1 f '
Spring/ LXIII. ; Autumne/ xcvn. ; Aprill/ in., xxi., xcvin., civ. ;

'Male/ xvm. ; 'December,' xcvn.

' f
Creation/ cxxvn. ; Universe,' ;
' '
cix. ; Ocean/ LVI., LXIV., LXXX. 'Heaven,' xxix., cxxxn. ; Sunne/ ;

(
xxi., xxxiii., xxxv., LIX., cxxx., cxxxn. Moone,' xxi., xxxv., cvn. ; ;
'
'Stars/ 'Starre/ xv., cxxxn. 'Eaven/ cxxxn. ; Sunset fadeth in ;

' f '
the West/ LXXIII. ; East/ cxxxn.
; Orient/ vn.
West/ cxxxn. ;

(5) Personifications. 'Beautie/ cxxvn. ; 'Time/ xv., xix., LXIV.,

cxxin. ; { Times fool/ cxvi. ; f Love/ ' Love's/ xxxi., LVI., CXLV. ;
' f
Fortune,' xxix., xxxvn. ; Muse,' xxi., xxxn., XXXVIIL, LXXIX.,
'
LXXXII., LXXXV., c., ci., cm. ; Age's/ LXIII.; 'Day/ xxvin. ;
 SONNETS 263
' ' ' '
'Reason/ CXLVII. ; Phisick/ CXLVII. ; Nothing/ Folly/ Truth/
* (
'Simplicity/ 'Captaine/ 111/ LXVI. ; 'Nature/ Art/ LXVIII. , cxxvu. ;

'Nature/ cxxvi. ; 'Art/ cxxxix. Here Art is not, properly, personi

fied, and might be classed under the next heading :

(6) Names of Arts and Sciences. 'Astronomy,' xiv. ; 'Musicke/

'
cxxx. ; ' Rhetorick/ LXXXII. ; and those who practise them Poet/ :

'
'Poets,' xvii., xxxii., LXXIX., LXXXIII. ; Painter('s)/ xxiv. ;
'Phisi-
'
Doctor-like,' LXVI. ; the Dyers hand,' cxi. ; and
'
tion('s)/ CXL., CXLVII. ;
'
the instrument of an art, used as its emblem such vertue hath my
Peri/ LXXXI. ;
'Leane penurie within that Pen doth dwell,' LXXXIV. ;
'
their antique Pen would have exprest/ cvi. The last example may
serve for a transition to the last class, which is harder to define,
viz. :

(7) Names of Animals and Plants used Emblematically, Proverbially,

or Typically. 'How many Lambs might the sterne Wolfe betray/
xcvi.
'
Croe or Dove/ cxin.
;
A Crow that flies in heavens sweetest
;
'

=
ayre' a clue to carrion, LXX.; 'my Adders sense/ cxn.;
'Raven-
' * '
black/ cxxvn. ; The Lyons pawes/ the fierce Tygers yawes/ the
long liv'd Phaenix, xix. ;
'the Larke at breake of daye/ xxix. 'Some ;

(glory) in their Hawkes and Hounds, some in their Horse,' xci. :

where Hawkes, Hounds, Horse stand for the establishments and pur
suits of Hawking, Hunting, and the Manege.
'Roses/ 'Rose/ LIV., LXVII., cxxx.; 'Rose/ xcv., cix.; 'Rose(s)'
compared with 'Lillie(s)/ xcvni., xcix.; 'Canker bloomes' contrasted
with 'Roses/ LIV.; 'For Canker vice the sweetest buds doth love/
LXX.; 'But as the Marygold at the Suns eye,' xxv.; 'And peace
'
proclaimes Olives of endless age/ cvn. ; Potions of Eysell gainst my
strong infection,' cxi.
Also emblematical are 'Dyall hand/ civ.; 'Virgin hand/ CLIV.;
'
'
But hope of Orphans and unfathered fruite/ xcvu. ; Love is a
Babe/ 'Captaine Jewells/ LII. ; 'lewell/ xcvi.
cxv.; The 'sausie
'
lackes (cxxvin. ) are quasi-personified. But, in the last examples, I
believe that the awkwardness of the letter i as a consonant before a
vowel had something to do with determining the type.
There remain some few instances, too complex for any simple
scheme of classification, but which, most certainly, are not mis
printed :

'Thy end is Truthes and Beauties doome and date.' xiv.

'
Unless my Nerves were brasse or hammered steele.' cxx.
'
Th'expence of Spirit in a waste of shame.' cxxix.
'As I by yours, y' have past a hell of Time.' cxx.
264 NOTES
Every word in the Quarto printed with a capital, which does not
depend on punctuation, is thus susceptible of rational explanation,
except two. These may or may not be misprints :

'Uttring bare truth, even so as foes Commend.' LXIX.

'This brand she quenche'd in a cool "Well by.' CLIV.

The Quarto may therefore be accepted on this count as an edition

carefully revised and corrected. Further evidence is forthcoming
from the fact that, whereas the thirteen remaining lines of each
sonnet begin with a roman capital, according to the usual practice of
printing verse, the first line begins with a large initial for which space
is invariably allowed by setting the second line somewhat to the right.

And this large initial is followed, invariably, by a Roman capital for

the second letter of line 1, immediately above the Roman capital for
the first letter of line 2 ; thus :

fairest creatures we desire increase,

That thereby beauties Rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease. . . .'

'
f\ Least the world should taske to recite,
^^ What merit liv'd in me that youshould loue.
you
After my death (deare love) for get me quite. .' . .
l

Four words remain printed with capitals which do depend on

punctuation :

'

They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade,

Die to themselves. Sweet Roses doe not so.' LIV. 11.

A capital is still retained after a period in modern printing. But

in theQuarto a capital is also placed, twice, after a colon a use which
survives in our Book of Common Prayer
'
T^O me faire friend you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyde,
Such seemes your beautie still Three Winters colde,
:

Have from the forests shooke. .'civ. . .

4
Most true it is, that I have lookt on truth
Asconce and strangely But by all above.'
: ex.:

and once after a semi-colon :

'
Lose all and more by paying too much rent
For compound sweet ; Forgoing simple savor.' cxxv.

1
I find that I have overlooked one other exception :

~^fOe Longer mourne.' LXXI.

 SONNETS 265
The example may be accidentally repeated from
capital in the last
the beginning of the line, and modern editors remove the semi-colon,
acting on the assumption that the Quarto was carelessly printed in
respect of punctuation. This I doubt. It is therefore necessary to
examine next, the system, or absence of system, in the punctuation of
the Quarto.

Punctuation. In the Quarto let it be said at once stops are not

used, as now they are, exclusively to point the syntax of each
sentence. They are also used, frequently, to point rhythmical or
rhetorical pauses. Thus a comma is placed often at the end, occasion
ally at some other point in a line, to emphasise such a pause. This
practice may pertain to the poet's idiosyncrasy as much as to the
fashion of printing in his day it has been observed in the
:
poetry of
Shelley and of others engrossed in the music of their verse. But, if
this constant feature be excepted and a moderate allowance be made
for the transposition of stops at the ends of two consecutive lines, the
remainder of error to be accounted for by careless editing is by no
means abnormal. On the other hand, in many instances the punctua
tion is so exquisitely adapted to the sense, rhetoric, and rhythm of

the phrase as to confirm my plea for the authority of the text. The
examples quoted to illustrate the use of capitals from civ. and ex.
serve also to illustrate the rhetorical use of punctuation. In them a
capital followed the colon, as I hold, to emphasise the rhetorical
pause ; whereas in the examples which I am about to quote the effect
is produced by punctuation alone :

'
But why of two othes breach doe I accuse thee,
When break twenty I am perjured most,
I :

For my vowes are othes but to misuse thee

all :

And all my honest faith in thee is lost.' CLII. 6.

'
Then not winters wragged hand deface,
let
In thee thy summer ere thou be distil'd :

Make sweet some viall ; treasure thou some place,

With beauties treasure ere it be selfe kil'd' : vi. 3.
'
He lends thee vertue, and he stole that word,
From thy behaviour, beautie doth he give
And found it in thy cheeke he can affoord :

No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.' LXXIX. 11.

4
Tell me thou lov'st elde-where ; but in my sight,
Dear heart forbeareto glance thine eye aside,
What needst thou wound with cunning when thy might
Is more than my ore-prest defence can bide?' cxxxix. 5.

The pause in the first line of this quatrain is heavily pointed to pre-
266 NOTES
pare for the unpausing outburst of the last two. And, in the only
remaining example of a colon set elsewhere than at the end of a line,
there is revealed a piece of punctuation so exquisite as to affirm an
author's hand l :

'
If itbe not, then love doth well denote,
Loves('s) eye is not so true as all mens('s) :
no,
How can it ? O how can loves('s) eye be true,
'
That is so vext with watching and with teares ? CXLVIII. 7-10.

No journeyman-printer, no pirate-publisher, achieved that effect.

It leads up, with the prescience of consummate art, to the rhythmical
stress on the second 'can' in line 9, and, in its own way, it is as
subtle.
A like intention may be traced in the handling of the comma. Its
frequency may suggest accident, rather than design. But this frequency
arises from a use which has now been abandoned, in addition to the

grammatical use which is still retained. Commas in the Quarto serve

a double purpose they point the syntax, but they also, and often,
:

mark the end of a line or the major pause after the fourth or the sixth
syllable, and this even when the sense demands no stop. That they
were not peppered over the page at random is apparent from their
unvarying coincidence with pauses, whether of grammar, rhythm, or
rhetoric, e.g. :

k
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 maist true love call,

All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more '
: XL. 1-4.
'
Nay you read this line, remember not,
if

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.' LXXI. 5-8.
'
And do so love, yet when they have devisde,
What strained touches Rhethorick can lend,
Thou truly faire, wert truly simpathizde,
In true plaine words, by thy true telling friend.' LXXXII. 9-12.
'
So shall supposing thou art true,
I live,
Like a deceived husband, so loves face,
May still seeme love to me, though alter'd new :
Thy lookes with me, thy heart in other place.' xciu. 1-4.

These stops are rhythmical for Shakespeare's quatrains and the

:

Psalms were ' printed as they are to be sung or said.' Like Shelley,
he preferred rhythmical effect to ' syntactical standing.'

1
ix. 3, the Quarto has 'Ah ; if thou issulesse,' for
'
Ah !
'
 SONNETS 267
Incidentally, the punctuation of the Sonnets exhibits their structure ;
showing that they were built up of three quatrains, each of which is a
separate measure, with a couplet at the close. The Sonnets proper
number one hundred and not a sonnet
fifty-three in all, for cxxvi. is
but an envoy in six couplets to the first series, and out of this possible
maximum the Quarto has a comma or no stop but twenty-three times
at the end of the first quatrain, but eighteen times at the end of the
second, and but thirty-two times at the end of the third. By adopting
the modern system of punctuation even these numbers are by much
reduced. The Cambridge Shakespeare has a heavier stop than a comma
after the first quatrain in all but nine cases after the second, in all but
;

seven after the third, in all but five. The significance of this pro
;

portion of heavy stops to commas at the end of the quatrains is

apparent if contrasted with the single instance in the Quarto of a

period, and the eight instances of a colon or semi-colon, being placed

in the body of a line. But the alterations made in the Cambridge
Shakespeare in the direction of heavier stops at the end of the quatrains
do not prove that the Quarto was carelessly printed. For, taking the
most important pause, viz. after the second quatrain, in only two
instances (v. 8 and xxi. 8) can it be said with confidence that the
comma in theQuarto is due to a misprint, and in one instance (cxn.)
the Cambridge seems to err in substituting a period. But the reduc
tion, effected by modern grammatical use in the number of commas
at this break, does confirm the theory of structure in quatrains.

Accepting these alterations in all but cxn., you have a heavy stop
after the second quatrain in all the sonnets but eight. And this
figure can be reduced still further, for in three sonnets (xu. , LXXXIV. ,
xcin.) I hope to show, when I reach them, that the Cambridge Shake
speare errs in substituting commas for a colon and two periods. Out
of one hundred and fifty-three sonnets, therefore, only five have but
commas after line 8, viz. LXVI., but it proceeds by continuous enumera
tion from 1. 2 to 1. 12 ; xcix., but the explanation is apparent, for the

sonnet is irregular with a fifth line added to the first quatrain ; and

cxn., cxxxn., CXLVIII., in each of which an exceptional effect is pro

duced by departing, intentionally, from the normal practice. By the
number, these five exceptions confirm the con
insignificance of their
sistency of Shakespeare's practice
; by the fact that each can be ex
plained they confirm the authority of the Quarto text. Additional
confirmation may be found in the unerring, though obsolete, use of
parentheses, e.g. :

'
O if (I say) you looke upon this verse,
When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay.'
268 NOTES
argument must be set three undoubted corruptions of the
Against this
text :

1.
'
Poore soule the center of my sinfull earth,

My sinfull earth these rebbell powres that thee array.'

CXLVI. 1, 2;
2.
repent, yet I have
'
Though thou still the losse,

To him that beares the strong offences losse.' xxxiv. 10-12:

'
'
where the second losse may fairly be set down to the com
positor in view of XLII. 10 and 12 :

'
And loosing her, my friend hath found that losse,

And both for my sake lay on me this crosse

'

'
3. The occasional confusion of their with thy ; cf. Malone The :

same mistake has several times happened in these Sonnets,

owing probably to abbreviations having been formerly used
for the words their and thy, so nearly resembling each other
as not to be easily distinguished. I have observed the same
'
error in some of the old English plays ;

and three suspicious features :

e
1. Line 11. xxv., ending quite' does not rhyme with line 9,
'
ending worth.'
2. The couplet of xcvj. is repeated from xxxvi.
3. Empty parentheses are placed after cxxvi., which is not a
sonnet (supra), as ifto indicate the compositor's expectation
of a couplet.

There are also some half-dozen of

trifling misprints, but these, both
in number and character, can be paralleled from the Quarto of
Venus and Adonis (1593), a text the authority of which has never
been challenged.

To sum up : The use of italics, capitals, and stops in the Quarto of

1609, though often obsolete, is most rarely irrational ; the number of
undoubted corruptions is so small as to be negligible ; the weight,
therefore, of the
argument inclines irresistibly towards maintaining
the text whereverit will yield a
meaning. Acting on this conclusion,
I have more than once reinstated the
Quarto text in preference to a
modern emendation.
 SONNETS 269
VI. The Use of the Apostrophe as a Guide to the Metrical Pro
nunciation. See Note II. on Venus and Adonis. The scrupulous
employment of the Apostrophe throughout the Quarto (1609), when
ever a syllable is not to be sounded, gives further support to the
authority of that text. Having considered every case in which a
word imports an extra syllable into a line, I can find but two in which
the Quarto can be said with any certainty to err civ. 10-12 : . . .

perceiu'd deceaued ; cxxiv. 2-4 ... unfathered

. . .
gatherd. . . .

No question arises out of certain lightly sounded words which then,

as now, were printed with their full number of syllables, e.g. euery :

11-times, euen 12-times, spirit 4- times, heauen 3-times. With these

may be classed : Soueraine, xxxm. 2, LVII. 6 ; generall, cxxi. 13 ;
severall, cxxxvu.
Being, LI. 10; 9;are, LIX. 11; Be it, We
CXLII. 9. And no
question arises where the extra syllable adds an
obviously intended charm to the rhythm as in livery, n. 3 ; flattery, :

XLII. 14 ; melancholic, XLV. 8 ; sufferance, LVIII. 7 ; laboring, LIX. 3 ;

shallowest, LXXX. 9 ; varrying = varying, cv. 10 ; preposterously,

cix. 11 ; reckoning, cxv. 5 ; adulterat, cxxi. 5 ; slanderers, CXL. 12 ;

desperate, CXLVII. 7.
There remain eight cases of ambiguous e's in Q. yellowed, xvn. 9 ; :

widdowed, xcvu. 8; swollowed = swallowed, cxxix. 7; louest, cxxxvi. 14;

in which the e has been printed but not accented, and unlettered, :

LXXXV. 6 unfathered, xcvu. 10 ; suffered, cxx. 8 ; fethered, CXLIII. 2

;

in which the e has been omitted in accordance with the usage of

modern editions.

VII. Notes on the Text.

GROUP A, See Introduction, p. ex.
i. -xix.
I. 2. Printed thus with a capital and italics in Q.
Rose : See
Note V. on the Typography of the Quarto (1609), and Introduction,
p. cxxii.
5. contracted: not the adjective= narrowed, but the participle =
betrothed. Cf. Measure for Measure, v. i. 380 :

'

Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this womau ? '

Twelfth Night, v. i. 268 :

' '
You would have been contracted to a maid ;

and 1 Henry IV., iv. ii. 17 :

'Inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the

6. self-substancial fuel, hyphened by Se well = fuel of the same

270 NOTES
substance as thy
'
light's flame/ viz. thine eye-sight : Bound by vow
to your own eyes you feed your sight on the sight of your-self.
13-14. Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world's due, by
the grave and thee : Pity the world, of which you are the present orna
ment and only earnest of future increase in beauty (9-10), or else
prevent the confirmation of that earnest, which is due to the world,
by the grave ( = your death) and thee ( = your refusal to propagate your
beauty before dying).

II. 4. tatter d, Gildon ; totter'd Q.

7. deep-sunken, hyphened by Sewell. Cf. i. 5, contracted to thine
own bright eyes.
8. thriftless = profitless. Cf. Winter's Tale, i. ii. 109:
1
Their profits
Their own particular thrifts
'
;

and Twelfth Night, n. ii. 40 :

' '
"What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe !

10-11. This . . . excuse: first marked as a quotation by Malone

(Capell MS.).
11. shall sum my count = shall complete and balance my account,
i.e.with the world, since (1. 12) the child's beauty is, being in
'
herited, the father's and make my old excuse.' This is obscure. Old
:

'
may be a noun for eld,' as in LXVIII. 12 :

'Robbing no old to dress his beauty new.'

'
Cf. to rob him of his fair,' Venus and Adonis, 1086. In that case
excuse is a participle for '
excused.' Old, sometimes
= ' more than
enough, copious, abundant' (Imp. Diet.), e.g. :

'
If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the key.'
Macbeth, ii. iii. 2 ;

'
Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English.'
Merry Wives of Windsor, i. iv. 5 ;
'
There was old to do about ransoming the Bridegroom.'
WALTER SCOTT :

but not, to my knowledge, outside humorous application.

12. thine! Knight, thine. Q.
13-14. ould . . . could: The first word is thus spelt five times
'
as against thirteen of
old/ the second four times thus against two of
'cold.'

III. 5. uneard, to ear is to plough or till.

 SONNETS 271
V. 1. hours, bowers Q., a dissyllable.
unfair = deprive of beauty.
'
Cf. 'to rob him of his fair,'
*
4.
Venus and Adonis, 1086, and ' Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd
'
face/ cxxvu. 6. Shakespeare has unfather'd/ xcvu. 10, 2 Henry IV.,
iv. iv. 122; and 'I'll unhair thy head.' Antony and Cleopatra,
ii. v. 64.

7,8. gone,. everywhere : gon. . . . . .

everywhere, Q., a misprint ;

the stops have been transposed.

14. Leese = lose, a form used constantly by Chaucer.

VI. 1. ragged, wragged Q.

4. beauty's, beautits Q. The t is
very like an e.

8. one
one, Q. ; slight pause only A is indicated because of the
f
rhetorical run on the repetitions of ten.'

VII. 5. steep-up, steepe up Q., hyphened by Gildon.

9. pitch, pich Q.

VIII. 5-14: Cf. this conceit drawn from harmony with Lucrccc,
1132-1154.
8. a parte, wch
the parts that, thus in a copy of this Sonnet ;

MS. (B. M. Add., 15226), which Dowden assigns to James i.'s reign.
(
14. thou single wilt prove none,' marked as a quotation by Malone.
Tyler compares cxxxvi. 8, 'Among a number one is reckoned none.'
' '
This is not according to Cocker/ who states this view Most Authors :

maintain that Unit is the Beginning of Numbers and it self no Number/

but argues learnedly against it (Cocker's Arithmetick). Cf. Marlowe,
Hero and Leander :

'
One is no number ; maids are nothing, then,

Without the sweet society of men.'

IX. 3. Ah! Ah; Q.

makeless = mateless, from Anglo-Saxon maca, a mate; match
4. is

another form, as in Kirk and Church. Cf. The Faerie Queene :

'
And of f aire Britomart ensample take
That was as true in love, as turtle to her make ;'
'
Th' Elf e, therewith astownd,
Upstarted lightly from his looser Make
'
:

and Surrey (The Second Number in Tottel's Miscellany, 1557) :

'The turtle to her make hath tolde her tale.

10. his = its.

272 NOTES
X. For shame = for very shame, for shame's sake.
1. Modern
'
Editions have
'
For shame (Sewell). But this destroys the rhythm.
!

9. mind!, mind,, Q.
12. hind-hearted, kind harted Q.

XI. 2. departest, transitive. Cf. 2 Henry IV., iv. v. 91 :

' '

Depart the chamber, leave us here alone :

and 3 Henry VI. , n. ii. 73 :

'I would your highness would depart the field.'

3. youngly='m youth.
4. convertest = turnest from youth to age. Cf. xiv. 13 :

'
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert.'

The quatrain is obscure. Tyler explains 'As fast as the father

1, 2,

declines, so fast in his child, his second self, does he grow towards, or
in, that youthful beauty which he is leaving behind "from that which
'
thou departest." This, no doubt, is the meaning, but it is hard to see
how the construction bears it out. It would be easy if the line ran :

' '
In one of thine, tow'rds that which thou departest but it does not. :

'
I retain the comma after grow'st,' as in Q. , and remove the comma
'
after thine,' to make clearer the only meaning which I can ex
tract So fast thou grow'st, in one of thine from that ( = in one of thy
:

children deriving from that = the period of youth) which thou departest
(
= lea vest behind). The next two lines would, then, develop the
idea naturally and the fresh blood which you bestow in your youth
:

on your child, you may still call yours when you yourself turn from
youth to age.
9. store =
multiplication, reproduction, from the meaning, multitude,
as in Two Gentlemen of Verona, HI. i. 205 :

'Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons.'

XII. all silver d o'er Malone, or silver'd ore

4.
Q. Malone's emen
dation rendered probable by ' all girded up,' in 1. 7.
is

8. beard : Q. and Kelmscott ; beard Bell ; beard, Cambridge.:

14. Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

Save breed to brave him, when he takes thee hence,
Q. , where the comma marks the delivery and not the grammar of the
line.

XIII. 1. but, love, you Gildon, but love you Q.

6. determination, the proper legal term.
 SONNETS 273
7. Yourself . You selfe
. .
your selfes Q.
your self's, . . .

13.
unthrifts! Dear my
Kelmscott, Bell, Dowden; unthrifts,
love
deare my love Q. ; unthrifts dear Cambridge. :

14. You had a father ; let your son xay so. You had a Father, let your
Son say so. Q. This is simply another poetical turn for the advice :

1 '

beget a son. It does not mean that the Friend's father was dead.
'
Tyler cites Merry Wives of Windsor, in. iv. 36, where Shallow, urging
Slender to woo Ann Page in manly fashion to do as his father did
" She 's
says :
coming, to her, coz, O boy, thou had'st a father," a hint
which, however, Slender misunderstands.'

XIV. 2. Astronomy astrology.

4, 5. In Q. ... quality, . . . tell ; the stops have been trans-

5. minutes, mynuits Q.
9, 10. thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
But from
And, constant stars, in them I read such art.
Cf. Sidney, Astrophel and Stella (1591) :

'

Though dusty Wits dare scorn astrology. . . .

Proof makes me sure

Who oft fore-judge my after-following race,
By only those two stars in Stella's face.'

12. to store, supra, xi. 9.

XV. 6. Cheered and check' d, Cheared and checkt Q. I have accented

cheere'd, for the e if mute is invariably cut out in Q. The music of
the line depends on its being sounded.
7. Vaunt = exult, display themselves. Cf. Richard III., v. iii.

288:
'The foe vaunts in the field.'

9. conceit = conception, apprehension.

XVI. 9-12. This quatrain is obscure at the first reading, owing to

' '
the complicated play on the word lines,' in lines of life,' 1. 9. Tyler
and Dowden agree, substantially, that it connotes (1) children, refer
'
ring back to living flowers' in 7; (2) delineation in a portrait,
' '

echoing painted counterfeit in 8 ; (3) lines of the poet's verse. I

believe that the conceit, while including those meanings which are
subsequently developed, starts from a fourth drawn from Palmistry,
and that this determined its unusual cast ; lines of life. The line
of life in Palmistry exhibits the principal events in life, particularly
S
274 NOTES
Merchant of Venice, n.
marriage and the birth of children.
Cf. ii.

146:
3
'
Here 's a simple line of life : here s a small trifle of wives alas, fifteen wives
:

a'leven widows and nine maids is a simple coming in for a man . . .'
is nothing !

Thus the sense is :

Many a maid, 1. 6, if you should marry, would
'
children, 1. 7, much liker than any portrait
(
bear you living flowers
of yourself, 1. 8; so should the lines of life = marriage and procreation,
with a play on the meaning, (2) = delineation, repair that life of yours,
1. 9, which this
= my record, with a play on the meaning lines of verse
and then in parentheses,
f
Times pensel' = history, record at Q.(
large, 'or my pupill pen'
= (
my humbler art); neither in inward
worth nor outward fair = beauty, 1. 11, can (do, for it cannot) make
'

you live your self (i.e. very self) in eyes of men, 1. 12. The use of the
'
relative which,' 1. 10, is irregular.
The = =
play on the double sense line delineation, and line a verse is

developed in xvn. 1, 2 :

'

My verse ... with your most high deserts ?

'
if it were filPd

Cf. LXIII. 13 :

' '
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen ;

and LXXXVI. 13, of the Rival Poet :

'
But when your countenance fill'd up his line.'

In xvii. 13, 14, there is a transition from this double sense, line =
1. 12
lineage and verse, to xviu. in :

'
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st
'
:

where the poet attributes the gift of immortality to his verse alone.
' '

Many parallels for these several uses of line may be found in the
Plays, e.g. lineage. Cf. Henry F., i. ii. 71 :
'
Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great.'

A child's reproduction of his father s image. Cf. Winter's Tale, i. ii,

153:
'

Looking on the lines

Of my boy's face
methought I did recoil
Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech'd.'

XVII. 12. metre Gildon, miter Q.

XVIII. 10-12. . . . ow'st . . .

grow'st : thus in Q. ; owest . . .

growest Malone, for M'hich there is no authority. Owest . . .

grow'st
 SONNETS 275
Cambridge, which exhibits the inconvenience of forsaking the strictly

phonetic practice observed in Q.

XIX. 5. fleet' st. An imperfect rhyme to

'
sweets.' Dyce puts
'
fleets.'

This Sonnet closes Group A.

XX. 2. Master Mistress, Master Mistris Q.,, master-mistress Malone.

I omit Malone's hyphen, as it is risky to tamper with enigmas.
7. Hews I retain the Q. type and spelling, being persuaded that
:

the word was so printed intentionally. (See Note V.) The line in
Q. is:-
'
A man in hew all Hews in his controwling.'

Hew is
'
hue,' and here means shape, figure,
the usual spelling for
and not tint. Dowden
Nash's Pierce Pennilesse, pp. 82, 83
cites

(Shakespeare Society's Reprint): 'The spirits of the water have slow

bodies, resembling birds and women, of which kinde the Naiades and
Nereides are much celebrated amongst poets. Nevertheless, however
they are restrayned to their severall similitudes, it is certain that all
of them desire no forme or figure so much as the likenesse of a man,
and doo thinke themselves in heaven when they are infeoft in that
f
hue.' Spenser uses hew' twice for shape, embodiment. The line,
then, means
'
a man in shape all shapes in his controlling.' Cf. LIII.

5_8, 12 :

'
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you ;

On Hellen's cheek all art of beauty set,

And you in Grecian tires are painted new . . .

And you in every blessed shape we know.'

It states that the Friend was the eternal pattern of Beauty. But
the type selected for ' hues,' thanks to contemporary spelling, Hewn,
enabled the poet to convey something more which was apparent to the
person addressed and not apparent now. Of this I am convinced.
is

But beyond this all is guess-work. Some hold that Mr. W. H.

of the dedication was the Friend, and that his name was William
Hughes ; others seek an anagram in the letters. Fortunately they
serve the turn of both the two chief camps which identify the Friend,
the one with William Herbert, the other with Southampton. Ana
grams were fashionable :

'
Henry Wriothesley Earle of Southampton
Anagram :

Vertue is thy Honour O the praise of all men

;
'
:
276 NOTES
and Hews contains the initials of his name and title. Others may
riddle it : He = Herbert,, W. S. = Shakespeare,, or they may find in
H. W. S. the initials of the two with an E added to sound them.
Many identify the Rival Poet with Chapman, and, viewing the ardour
with which this riddle-maree is prosecuted,, it is strange that a passage
in Chapman's Preface to the Reader (Homer's Iliads} has so far escaped
c
their attention another right learned, honest, and entirely loved
:

'
friend of mine, M. Robert Hews. It is improbable that we shall ever
know the hidden suggestion of this word. It remains cos ingeniorum.

XXI. So is it not with me, etc. : the first attack This sonnet offers

on the false art of a Rival Poet. connected with the It is intimately

preceding sonnet, and is obviously personal. Yet it does not follow

that the events which suggested it were to the poet more than an
occasion for writing in a strain of contemporary fashion. Cf. Du

Bellay (Contre les Petrar guides), who, deriding the false art of Petrarch's
imitators, writes :

'
De voz beautez, ce n'est que tout fin or,
Perles, crystal, marbre, et ivoyre encor,
Et tout 1'honneur de 1'Indique thresor,
Fleurs, lis, ceillets, et roses.'

The whole poem, of several pages, offers a close parallel to the similar
attacks in the Sonnets. A
poet was expected to disclaim the practice
of Petrarch's imitators and to trounce his rivals for observing it.
Drayton does both. .
t

13, 14. Let them say more that like of hearsay well ;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.
Cf. Love's Labour 's Lost, iv. iii. 234 :

'Lend me
the flourish of all gentle tongues,
Fie painted rhetoric O, she needs it not
! :

To things of sale a seller's praise belongs,

She passes praise. . . .'

and Daniel, to Delia, 1594 :

'
None other fame, mine unambitious Muse
Affected ever, but t' eternize Thee !

All other honours do my hopes refuse,

"Which meaner prized and momentary be.
For, God forbid I should my papers blot
!

With mercenary lines, with servile pen ;

Praising virtues in them that have them not,
Basely attending on the hopes of men.' Sonnet LIII.
 SONNETS 277
XXII. 3. furrows, forrwes Q., sorrows Gildon, sorrowes Kelmscott.
Cf. Richard II. , i. iii. 229 :

'
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle.'

4.expiate. Expiate = to atone for a crime and thus to close the

lastchapter of its history. Here the sense of completing is kept and
the sense of atoning dropped ; Malone paraphrases ' should fill up the
measure of my days/ and cites Richard III., HI. iii. 23 :

'Make haste ; the hour of death is expiate.'

XXIII. 6. rite Malone, right Q.

9. books, looks Sewell.
14. with . . .
wit, wit . . . wiht Q.

XXIV. (connected with the preceding sonnet) 1. steel' d, steeld Q.

See notes on Lucrece, 1444, and Venus and Adonis, 376.
4. And perspective it is best Painter's art, viz. the art of depicting

objects on the plane of a canvas, but so that they appear, as in

nature, to be in many planes, one behind the other, seen through
the frame as if through a square aperture. The conceit begins, 1. 1,
' '
with the Poet's eye as a Painter, who has drawn the Friend's beauty
'
on the Poet's heart. It goes on to a play on the word frame,' 1. 3 ;
the body is the physiological frame which holds the heart and other
organs, but, taking the other sense of frame, perspective, 1. 4, is the
best of a painter's art ; and, 1. 5, taking the etymological derivation
of perspective with a reversion to the conceit that the Friend's beauty
is engraved on the Poet's
physical heart, to see the skill of the Picture
you must look through the Painter = the Poet's eye. The Poet's
bosom, 1. 7, being the shop wherein the picture hangs, has, 1. 8,
borrowed the Friend's eyes making, 1. 9, a good exchange of ' eyes
:

for eyes.' The Poet's eyes, 1. 10, have been engaged in drawing the
Friend's shape; the Friend's eyes, 1. 11, meanwhile have been windows,
in their place, to the Poet's breast, through which, 1. 12, the sun

delights to peep, to gaze at the image of the Friend. This is a conceit

with a vengeance, but it does work out Cf. Henry Constable's Diana, !

Sonnet v. (1594) :

'
Thine eyes, the glass where I behold my heart.
Mine eye, the window through the which thine eye
May see my heart and there thyself espy ;

In bloudy colours, how thou painted art !

'

9. Good-turns, good-turnes Q. I retain the hyphen because it

278 NOTES
ensures the correct delivery of the line. The locution is used for a
service rendered no less than nine times in the Plays.

Unlook'd /or = not sought out, not distinguished,' as a

'
XXV. 4.
'

distinguished by a look or word from his

*
favourite was said to be
sovereign. It is not possible to prove the date of the Sonnets from in
ternal evidence ; but if, as to me seems probable, the earlier Sonnets
were written in 1599, no lines could have been penned more apposite
than the next eight (5-12) to the fall and disgrace of Essex after his
military failure in Ireland. They breathe the very spirit of Rowland
White's regret for that dazzling favourite and famous Captain, foiled
at last (supra Introduction) :

'
Great Princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the Marygold 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 f oil'd,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd '
:

They might, indeed, have been written by a follower of Essex after

the fatal eve of Michaelmas, 1599, for the epitaph of his reputation.
6. Marygold Cf. The Interpreter, 1622, a Puritan satire reprinted
:

by Arber, An English Garner, vi. p. 235 :

'He's as bold
And confident as the bright marigold !

'
That flatterer, that favourite of the sun :

where Buckingham is evidently intended. Dowden describes the

'
flower: The garden marigold, or Ruddes (calendula officinalis) ; it
turns its flowers to the sun, and follows his
guidance in their opening
and shutting. The old name is it was the Heliotrope,
goldes ;

Solsequium,
(' "
or
Turnesol of our forefathers. (Condensed from
Marigold in Ellacombe's Plant Lore and Garden Craft of Shake
speare.)' The Guide into Tongues (1617) gives (1) Marigolde
= Orange :

Flower. French, Soulsi, quasi solem sequens. German, Ringel-blum ;

and adds, ' officin vocant calthulam, solis
:
sponsam, caltham poeticam
seu Virgilii Calendulam.
(2) Marigold of Peru
= sun-flower, or golden
flower of Peru.
9. fight, worth Q. Malone accepted this emendation from Theo
'
bald, who likewise proposed, if worth were retained, to read : raze'd
forth,' in 1. 11. This neglect of the rhyme may be due to an oversight
 SONNETS 279
'
of the author, but the emendation by the ' Person of Shakespeare
has passed into the language.
13, 14. beloved . . removed.
. I have accented the final syllables,
in accordance with the principle explained in Note II. on Venus and
Adonis} of which the use observed by the Quartos in respect of the
two words loved, beloved affords a good example. The words
occur in all fourteen times ; nine times, where the metre demands
that the e should be mute, it is omitted three times, where the metre
;

demands that the e should be sounded, it is printed there remain :

two cases in the final couplets of this sonnet and of cxvi. In both Q.
prints the e with, I cannot doubt, the intention that it should be
sounded.

GROUP B, xxvi. -xxxii.

XXVI. 3. ambassage Q. embassage, Ewing.
Bestow = ' lodge
'
8.In thy soul's thought (all naked) will bestow it :

' ( ' '

'
(Dowden), also equip clothe (Tyler)
; ; put him up,' as we say,
colloquially.
'
It,' which is to be so entertained
= 'Duty' of 1. 5,
made to seem ' bare,' 1. 6, and (all naked) refers to this ' bare Duty.'
I retain the parenthesis of Q. as it makes the reference back to
f '

Duty clearer.
11. tatter d, tottered Q. ; cf. 11. 4.
'
12. thy,their' Q. Malone's emendation. See (supra) Note V.
He has made a like change, xxvn. 10, xxxv. 8, xxxvn. 7, XLIII. 11,
XLV. 12, XLVI. 3, 8, 13, 14, etc., and not always with adequate
warrant from the sense. Even in this case it is possible that ' their,'
Q., may be the right reading, referring to the stars, suggested by
'
whatsoever star' in 1. 9; for this, in turn, refers back to ' their
'
stars of the preceding sonnet.

'
XXVII. 10. thy Malone, their Q. It is just conceivable that their'
'
(
should stand, referring to my thoughts in 1. 5.
11. hung in ghastly night, (hunge in gastly night) Q.

XXVIII. 1, 2. The marked query in these two lines suggests that

they are a rejoinder to some kindly expression of good wishes for the
poet's happy return in a letter from the Friend.
9. I tell the Day,
to please him thou art bright, Cambridge, Kelmscott ;
I tell the to please him thou art bright, Q. ; I tell the day, to
Day
please him, thou art bright, Malone, Dowden, Tyler, Bell.
'
12. twire, peep. Cf. Ben Jonson, Sad Shepherd, Act n. Sc. i. :

"Which maids will twire at, tweeu their fingers, thus" ;

280 NOTES
Beaumont and Fletcher., Woman Pleas' d, Act iv., Sc. i.:

"I saw the wench that twir'd and twinkled at thee

"
The other day ;

Marston, Antonio and Mellida, Act iv. (Works, vol. i.

p. 32, ed.
Halliwell) :

"I sawe a thing stirre under a hedge, and I peep't, and a spyed a thing, and
'
I peer'd andI tweerd underneath." DOWDEN.

Scott, whose Fortunes of Nigel proves that he had steeped him

'
self in Elizabethan Drama, has there all of them are twiring and :

peeping betwixt their fingers when you pass.'

12. gild'st the even, guil'st th' eauen Q.
13, 14. Printed in Q. :

'
But day doth daily draw my sorrowes longer, [stronger
And night doth nightly make greefes length seeme

The Cambridge, following Dyce 1857 (Capell MS. and Collier, conj.),
has ' longer strength seem stronger.'
. . .
Malone, Dowden, Tyler,
'
Bell, Kelmscott, retain length. The sense is Day daily draws out :

my sorrows to a greater length, but they are not attenuated or

weakened for all their length : night nightly makes that length seem
stronger.'

XXIX. 2. outcast, out-cast

Q.
4. fate, fate. Q.
11. (Like to the Larke at breake of daye arising), Q. Modern
editions omit the parentheses and put no comma after ( arising.' But
' '
it is his state which sings at heaven's gate from the sullen earth
like to the lark.

XXX. 1. Sessions Q., i.e. the Court, as it were, Assizes. Cf. Othello,
in. iii. 140 :

'
Who has a breast so pure,
But some uncleanly apprehensions
Keep leeta and law-days, and in session sit
"With meditations lawful.'

6. dateless = endless.
8. moan the expense. Dowden: f
pay my account of moans for.
The words are explained by what follows :

"Tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan."'
'
sight. Malone would understand 'sigh.' sight' might stand for
'sighed' it is so used by Chaucer but not for the noun. The
 SONNETS 281
change is not needed :
'
sight
'
= sight of persons beloved. Cf.
2 Henry VL, i. i. 32:
'Her sight did ravish ; but her grace in speech.'

obsequious = =
( (
XXXI. 5. dutiful/ Tyler ; funereal/ Dowden. I

agree. Cf. Titus Andronicus, v. iii. 152 :

'
Draw you near
To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk.'

7. interest. Cf. Lucrece, 1796-9 :

'
Do not take away
My mourner say
sorrow's interest, let no
He weeps for her, for she was only mine
And only must be wail'd by Colatine.'
f
8. there Q., thee Gildon. I retain the Q. reading there' refers :

back to 'thy bosom/ 1. 1; 'And there/ 1. 3. Thus 'hidden in :

there = hidden in thy bosom, the subject of all the first eight lines
'

with which the sonnet opens. The third quatrain, after a period,
'
opens with a second idea, developed from the first Thou art the :

grave.'

XXXII. Ifthou survive, etc. : Closes Group B.

7. Reserve Mem = keep them carefully. Cf. Othello, in. iii. 295 :

'
But she so loves the token,
For he conjured her she should ever keep it,

That she reserves it evermore about her

To kiss and talk to.'

XXXIII. Full many a glorious, etc. :

Opens Group C, xxxin.-
XLII.
2. Flatter . . . with sovereign eye : That is, as a sovereign natters a
courtier with a look. Cf. xxv. 4-8.
6. rack = thin flying broken clouds or any portion of floating vapour
in the sky. Cf. Antony and Cleopatra, iv. xiv. 10 :

'
Sometime we see a cloud that 's dragonish ;

A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,

A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon 't, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air. . . .

That which is now a horse, even with a thought

The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct
As water is in water.'
282 NOTES
12. region : Dowden cites Clarendon Press Hamlet : Originally a
'

division of the sky marked out by the Roman augurs. In later times
the atmosphere was divided into three regions upper, middle, and
lower. By Shakespeare the word is used to denote the air generally.'
Cf. Bacon :

'
The winds in the upper region, which move the clouds above, which we call
the rack . . .
pass without noise.'
'
But as we often see, against some storm,
A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
The bold wind speechless and the orb below
As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region.' Hamlet, n. ii. 506.
'Region kites.' Hamlet, n. ii. 606.

'Through the airy region.' Borneo and Juliet, ii. ii. 21.

14. stain . . .
staineth, intransitive. Cf. Love's Labour 's Lost, ii. i.

48:
'
If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil.'

The meaning, when transitive, is to dim. Cf. Titus Andronicus, in. i.

213:
'
With our sighs we '11 breathe the welkin dim,
And stain the sun with fog. . .' .

XXXIV. 4. rotten. Cf. Timon of Athens, iv. iii. 2 :

'
O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth
Rotten humidity.'

12. cross Malone (Capell MS.), losse Q. Cf. XLII. 12 :

'And both for my sake lay on me this crosse' :

which confirms M alone' s conjecture.

13. sheds, 'sheeds' Q., '
rhyming with deeds.'

XXXV. 4. And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud :

ixx. 7. 'For Canker vice the sweetest buds doth love.'

xcv. 2. 'Which like a canker in the fragrant Rose.'

7. amiss :

'Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.'

Hamlet, iv. v. 18.

8.
Excusing thy sins, more than their sins are.
Excusing their sins more than their sins are. Q.
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are.
MALONE (Capell MS. )
 SONNETS 283
Malone's emendation is generally accepted, but, as he adds himself,
'
The latter words of this line, whichever reading we adopt, are not
'

Excusing thy sins more

'
very intelligible. Steevens explains :

than thy sins are = f making the excuse more than proportioned to
'

the offence.' I retain the second their/ and put a comma after the
*

' ' ' '

first sins,' believing that than their sins are refers back to All :

men make faults,' the sentence which opens the quatrain. The sense
is: All men make faults, and even I in saying so/ giving authority for
'

thy trespass by thus comparing it to the faults of all men I myself ;

am guilty of corrupting in so salving thy amiss " excusing thy sins

'e
;

(which are) more than their sins are.'

9. For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense = understanding, dis

cernment, appreciation. Cf. Comedy of Errors, u. i. 22, where Men

'
'

by contrast to the brute creation are :

' '
Indued with intellectual sense and souls ;

and Love's Labour 's Lost, v. ii. 258 :

'
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen,
Above the sense of sense ; so sensible
Seemeth their conference.'
'
There is, also, aplay on the opposite meaning of sense,' akin to that
(
of sensual.' Cf. Measure for Measure, i. iv. 59:

A man whose blood '

Is very one who never feels

snow-broth ;

The wanton stings and motions of the sense,

But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge
With profits of the mind, study and fast.'

Sense is sence in Q. Malone suggested incense; but 'No English

writer ever accented the substantive incense on the last syllable.'
STEEVENS.
'
Thy adverse party is thy Advocate
10. Dowden conjectures "thy :

"
adverse party as thy advocate = sense, against which he has offended,
'

brought in a* his advocate ? But Advocate, with a capital, and the

'

sequence of the next line, in which the Poet himself commences a

lawful plea,' confirm the Q. text and indicate f thy Advocate = the
'

Poet.

XXXVI. 5. But one respect=' perfect similarity,' Tyler. Dowden,

'
commenting on my bewailed grief,' 1. 10, conjectures that the passage
'
may mean I may not claim you as a friend, lest my relation to
:

the dark woman now a matter of grief should convict you of faith-
284 NOTES
lessness in friendship.' There is much of probability in this gloss and,
if it be accepted, then 11. 5, 6 :

'
In our two lives there is but one respect
'

Though in our lives a separable spite :

' '

may Respect in that case must

also allude to the same situation.
be taken to retain much of its first meaning, akin to the first meaning
of ' regard = f looking towards one object.
' '
Cf. Comedy of Errors, iv.
iv. 44. :
'

Respice finem ; respect your end.'

6. separable = separating, Malone.

9. ever more S. Walker conj.,
'
ever-more' Q., '
evermore' Cam
bridge.
13, 14 : These lines are repeated in xcvi.

XXXVII. 7. Intituled in their parts, do crowned sit. Entitled ... sit'

f '
Q. and Kelmscott. Malone (Capell
MS.) substituted thy' for their,'
adding :
'

Entitled, thus, means, I think, ennobled.' He is followed by

(
Bell, Dowden, Tyler, Cambridge. Tyler explains The various en :

dowments of the Poet's Friend are spoken of as though each were a

monarch reigning in its own domain with just title. The word crowned
'
describes their pre-eminence.' I retain their,' and suggest that
Intitled a contraction formed according to the poet's usage from
Intituled parts, and crowned may all three be explained by reference to

contemporary terms of Heraldry. Cf.. note on Lucrece, 57-72. Guillim

(A Display of Heraldrie, 1610) has a table of the science. The skill of
Armoury is divided into (i) Accidents and (ii) Parts ; and, without pur
suing all the sub-heads under Parts, I may sum them up, generally,
by saying that Parts = the technical term for the places in a shield on
which armorial devices are borne. In the long heraldic passage of
Lucrece we read, 55-58 :

'
When Beautie bosted blushes, in despight
Vertue would staine that ore (=or) with silver white.
But Beautie in that white entituleU
From Venus doves, doth challenge that f nix field.'
Guillim passes at the end of his work from the Escocheon, with its

fields and charges and colours, to ornaments exteriorly annexed to any

Coate-Armour the Crest or Timber, Wreath, Mantle, Helme, etc.,
:

which, with the shield, make up the Achievement. After dealing with
the Wreath and Gap of Dignity, he c
goes on to other sorts of Crownes.'
And it appears that Crownes had a place in the Achievements even of
e
knights As in this Achievement you may observe a Wreath or
:
 SONNETS 285
Torce interposed between the mantle and the crest, so in this next
ensuing example you shall finde the like interposition of a Crowne.
This Achievement belongeth to the Right Worshipfull Sir John
Scudamore' (2nd Ed.). I take it, therefore, that the passage = Be it
beauty, birth or wealth or wit which is displayed as in an achievement
beneath the Crown, charges are blazoned each in its part of the coat-
armour ( I make my love ingrafted to this store,' 1. 8 = 'your worth
and truth,' 1. 4, and so ' by a part of all your glory live,' viz. by your
worth and truth, making no account of the rest of your glory = your
beauty, birth, wealth, and wit.
I am confirmed in my conjecture that the Poet drew on his know

ledge of Heraldry to express the contrast between his Friend's worth

and truth, which were for him alone, and his other glorious qualities
displayed, as in an achievement, to the world at large, by a strange
similarity between a passage in Guillim's chapter (1st Ed.) on achieve
ments and 11. 4-8 of this Sonnet. Speaking of e noble families whose :

first raisers were honoured for their good services with titles of dignity,
*
as badges of their worth,' he goes on if their offspring vaunt of their
:

linage or titular dignity, and want their vertues, they are but like base
servingmen, who carry on their sleeves the badge of some Noble Family,
yet are themselves but ignoble persons. In which respect Aristotle dis
coursing of nobility, makes foure parts thereof; the 1 of Riches, the
2 of Bloud, the 3 of Learning, the 4 of Vertue.' The comparison
of titular dignity with badges, and the citation of four parts of nobility
which, with the substitution of Beauty for Vertue, are the four parts
in the sonnet, constitute a remarkable coincidence between Shake

speare's heraldic lore and Guillim's. This citation was a tag familiar
to the learned in Heraldry Ferae has it in The Glorie of Generositie,
1586 and, therefore, to Shakespeare, who plays on two senses of the
f
word parts,' both germane to that science. Some such classification
is alluded to by Henry Constable in his Diana (1594), Sonnet x. :

'
Heralds at arms do three perfections quote,
To wit, most fair, most rich, most glittering ;

So, whenthose three concur within one thing,

Needs must that thing, of honour, be a note.
Lately I did behold a fair rich coat. . .' .

i.e. the arms of Rich, who married Penelope Devereux, Sidney's Stella.
On the other side it is fair to set Loves Labour 's Lost, v. ii. 822 :
'
If this thou do deny, let our hands part
'
Neither intitled in the other's heart :

where f
intitled
'
smacks of Law, from f
title
'
= the instrument which is
286 NOTES
evidence of a right oi ownership. I was, at first, disposed to accept a
f
like interpretation of 'Intitled in their parts,' comparing parts with of
'
the first part ... of the second part in legal instruments. But this
interpretation will not include crowned.
9. So then I am not lame :
'
Cf. made lame by P'ortune's dearest
spite/ 1. 2. 'Lame'
here, obviously, metaphorical, arising out of
is
'
the illustration drawn, 11. 1, 2, from a decrepit father,' who takes
'
'
delight in his active child. In LXXXIX. 3 :

' '

Speak of my lameness and I straight will halt :

follows (as an illustration of some imputed delinquency) upon :

'
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
'
And I will comment upon that offence :

and the Sonnet goes on :

'
Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill

To set a form upon desire'd change,

As I'll myself disgrace.'

And made lame/

here, also,
f '
I am not lame/ follows an allusion in
the preceding number to some disgrace which, whether deservedly or
not, has overtaken the Poet :

'
So shall these blots that do with me remain . . .

Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame. . . .'

10. Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give Shakespeare :

frequently contrasts
'
shadow' and 'substance.' He takes the two
terms from the philosophy of his day and uses them for poetical
effect, as modern essayists take terms from modern philosophy, e.g.
objective and subjective, and use them in criticism :

'Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues.'

Merry Wives of Windsor, n. ii. 215.
'
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprizing it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance. . . .'

Merchant of Venice, in. ii. 128.

'Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows.'

Richard II., n. ii. 14.

'
I am but shadow of myself !

You are deceived, my substance is not here.'

1 Henry VI., n. iii. 50.

'
That are the substance
Of that great shadow I did represent.' 2 Henry VI., i. i. 14.
 SONNETS 287
'
Grief has so wrought on him
He takes false shadows for true substances.'
Titus Andronicus, in. ii. 80.

'Dreams indeed are ambition, for the very substance of the ambitious is

merely the shadow of a dream.' Hamlet, u. ii. 265.

( ' e '
Shadow and reflexion were used by renaissance Platonists as
alternative metaphors in expounding Plato's doctrine that Beauty which
we see is the copy of an eternal pattern Giordano Bruno had dis
'
'
coursed in Paris De Umbris Idearum :
or, rather, they use shadow
'
where we should use ' reflexion :

'
Let us clime up the stayers, which at the lowermost stepp have the shadowe
of sensual beawty, to the high mansion place where the heavenlye, amiable and
right beawtye dwelleth.' HOBY, The Fourth Bookc of the Courtyer, 1561.
'
But, mindf ull still of your first countries sight,
Doe still preserve your first informed grace
Whose shadow yet shynes in your beauteous face.'
SPENSER'S Hymne in Honour of Bcautic.

In the glorious lights of heaven we perceive a shadoiv of his divine counten

'

'
ance. RALEIGH.

In these examples there is no meaning of ' shade/ but only of ' re

flexion.' So does Shakespeare employ ( shadow,' even apart from
'
any philosophical significance, to mean only the projection of like
ness,' and not the obscuring of light sometimes simply, e.g. Venus :

and Adonis, 162 :

'
Narcissus so himself himself forsook
'
And died to kiss his shadow in the brook :

sometimes metaphorically ; of paintings, e.g. Lucrece, 1. 1457 :

'
On this sad shadow Lucrece spends her eyes '
:

that on the picture of Helen of actors, * The best in this kind are
is, ;

but shadows' (A Midsummer Night's Dream, v. i. 213); of a son as

(
the reflexion of his father's likeness, Thy mother's son ! Like
enough, and thy shadow' (2 Henry IV., in. ii. 137). But he
father's
also uses the term, here and elsewhere in the Sonnets, with less, or
with more, approximation to the metaphysic use from which it was
borrowed :

'
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day.' XLIII. 5-7,
288 NOTES
'
What your substance, whereof are you made,
is

That millions of strange shadows on you tend ?

Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
And you, but one, can every shadow lend. . . .

The one doth shadow of your beauty show. . . .' Lin. 1-4, 10.

*
Why should poor Beauty indirectly seek
'
Roses of shadow, since his rose is true ? LXVII. 7, 8.

'
And you away
As with your shadow I with these did play.' xcvm. 13, 14;

i.e. with the and the rose.

lily

Drayton, whose Sonnets offer so many perplexing points of com

parison with Shakespeare's, has one 'To the Shadow' (Amour 21,
ed. 1594 Sonnet xm. , ed. 1619). He addresses the Shadow in it since
: :

letters, lines, the diamond, metals, paper and ink,' etc., are
'
all else,

subject to change and decay. But not so the Shadow whilst the light
endures :

'
O sweetest Shadow, how thou serv'st my turn !

Which still shalt be, as long as there is sun. . . .

That everything whence shadow doth proceed,

May in his shadow, my Love's story read.'

Here the poetical use of this term borrowed from philosophy is enig
matical as anywhere in the Sonnets.

XXXVIII. 2. breathe, that Ewing, breath that Q.

XXXIX. 7> 8. That by this separation I may give

That due to thee which thou deservst alone :

Separation justifies the poet's praise of the Friend, which was not
justified whilst their dear love was undivided, 11. 5, 6 ; for to praise
him then was for the Poet to praise himself, 1. 3, since they were

one, the Friend being all the better part of the Poet, 1. 1.
12. Which time and thoughts so sweetly dost deceive Q. Malone :

substituted 'doth deceive,' and has been generally followed. The

sense would then be: '
O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove,
were it not that thy sour leisure gave sweet leave to entertain the
time with thoughts of love, which (i.e. love) doth deceive time and
thoughts so sweetly.' Malone, to make sense, explains deceive = beguile.
This may serve for time, but hardly for thoughts. I retain the Q. text,
for the construction in the second
person singular, which begins with
the apostrophe to absence in 1. 9, recurs, with absence again as the
subject, in 1. 13, And that thou teachest. It is, therefore, I think,

rightly maintained in 1. 12 'dost deceive,' where the ellipsis of a

 SONNETS 289
'
e
thou presents no difficulty, being immediately supplemented by ' And
'
that thou of 1. 13. In 11. 1-8 the poet argues that, the Friend being
the better part of himself, 1. 2, his ' own self,' 1. 3, he cannot praise
him because thus he would be praising himself, 1. 4. For this let
'
them be divided, 1. 5, that by separation, 1. 7, he may give ' that due
= praise, to the Friend who alone is entitled to it, 1. 8. Here follows
the apostrophe to absence, or separation What a torment wouldst :

thou prove, were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave to entertain
the time with thoughts of love, 1. 11, which (i.e. which same) time and
'
thoughts (of love) thou (absence) dost so sweetly (cf. sweet leave,' 1. 9)
'
deceive Deceive here does not mean to ' mislead
\ a sense which
'
Malorie repudiates for ( beguile but ' to cause to fail in fulfilment or
realization' (Imp. Diet.), to defraud, defeat, undo, make vain. For
kindred uses of this word cf. Troilus and Cressida, v. iii. 90 :

'
'
Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive :

where Cassandra tells Hector that if he neglects her warnings he will

undo himself and his country ; and Macbeth, i. ii. 63 :

'
No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
- Our bosom interest.'

Absence gives a sweet opportunity for passing away time with thoughts
of love, but, though sweetly, still, by its very nature, it does defraud
and make vain time and these thoughts of love.

XL. all; all. Q.

1.

Then if for my lone, thou my love receivest = lf in place of my

5, 6.
love for you, you accept the woman I love, 1. 5 (cf. XLII. 9), I cannot
blame thee, for thou usest my love, 1. 6. Here the Poet plays on
( '
the two meanings of love given in the preceding line.
7. But yet be blam'd, if thou this selfe deceauest: Thus in Q.
'
Modern editions have ' thyself for 'this self.' Dowden explains:
(
Yet you are to blame if you deceive yourself by an unlawful union
while you refuse legal wedlock.' Tyler :
'
Mr. W. H., it is suggested,
This is no more satisfactory
may be committing a fraud on himself.'
than the Q. text, which I retain since it will bear a meaning.
The Sonnet was evidently written at the same time and on the same
theme the theft of the Poet's mistress by his Friend as the one
which precedes and the two which follow it ' This self '= the Poet,
must, therefore, be interpreted in connexion with the identity of him
self and the Friend stated in xxxix. 1-4, and re-stated in XLII. 13, 14 :

'
But here 's the joy, my friend and I are one,
Sweet flattery, then she loves but me alone
'
:

T
 290 NOTES
a couplet which concludes the whole matter of the four. And note
that, when the same matter is re-handled in the Second Series (cxxvn.-
CLII.), the same identity is urged :

'And my next selfthou. harder hast engrossed.' cxxxm. 6.

Think all but one, and me in that one Will.

' '
cxxxv. 14.
'
This self = the '
Poet, in 1. 7 is distinguished from thy self the
Friend of 1. 8 ;
and this distinction of two persons who are one self
is in harmony with the conceit which runs through the four numbers.
'Deceivest/ 1.
7, as in xxxix. 12 = defraud, undo.
By wilful taste of what thy self refusest : This, the last line of
8.

the quatrain must be read in the light of the three lines which
precede it. For here, in accordance with Shakespeare's usual
is one, both as a measure of verse and in
practice, the quatrain
grammatical construction. f
Of what' refers back, grammatically,
to
f
my love' in 1. 6. But there f my love' is ambiguous (supra),
holding implicitly the two meanings of the phrase exhibited in 1. 5,
where the first ' my love = the Poet's love for the Friend, and the
'

second = the Poet's mistress. The sense of the quatrain is: Then
if, in place of my love for you, you prefer my mistress, I cannot blame

you, for each of these, in a sense, is my love, and that you are free to
use, since mine is made yours and yours mine by the identity of our
two selves in one. But yet you are to blame if, of the two, you
defraud this, my self, by wilfully tasting my love = my mistress,
while you, the other self, refuse my love = my love for you.

XLI. 8. he have Q., she have Malone (Tyrwhitt conj.): The Q.

reading is more subtile in sense and more musical in sound.

XL11. That thou hast her, etc. : Closes GROUP C. Cf. cxxxm.
9. my love = the Poet's mistress. Cf. the second my love in XL. 5.
12. lay on me this cross :

'To him that bears the strong offence's cross.' xxxiv. 12. .

'A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crossed.' cxxxm. 8.

XLIII. 1. When most I wink = when most I close

my eyes, viz. when
I sleep. The word bears no meaning of brevity or alternation with
opening :

'
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel.' Tempest, n. i. 285.
'And I will wink ; so shall the day seem night.'
Venus and Adonis, 121.

'They are not blind, but they ?0mfc.' TILLOTSON.

 SONNETS 291
2. unrespected = unheeded, with a play on the first sense = unseen.
'
4. And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed: Darkly bright'
echoes 1.
1, repeating the statement that the Poet's eyes see best
when closed, 'Are bright in dark directed' is contrasted against

1. where the eyes, though seeing in the day, take no heed, for it
2,
states that when in dark directed, they are bright, viz. heedful. The
sense is 'My eyes see hest when they are most firmly closed, for
all the day, though they view things, they do not heed them ; but

when I sleep they look on thee in dreams, and, seeing although closed,
in the dark they heed that on which they are fixed.'
5. Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright See Note :

on xxxvu. 10.
11. thy Malone, their Q.

XLIV. 11. But that, so much of earth and water wrought In the :

next Sonnet the Poet explains that of the four elements which com
pose him, Fire and Air are absent with his Friend, leaving him with
'

but the heavier two, '

so much of earth and water wrought :

' '
Does not our life consist of the four elements.
Twelfth Night, n. iii. 10.
'
The dull elements of earth and water never appear in him.'
Henry V., m. vii. 23.

'
I am fire and air ; my other elements I give to baser life.'

Antony and Cleopatra, v. ii. 292.

13. naught,
naughts Q.
But heavy tears, badges of either
14. s woe : That is of earth and
water, by their weight and moisture.

XLV. The other two, slight air, etc. : Connected with the preceding
sonnet.
4. present-absent, hyphened by Maloiie.
9. life's, Hues Q.
12. thy Malone (Capell MS.), their Q.

XLVI. Conceits of the eye and heart are in the convention of

Elizabethan sonneteering. Cf. Watson's Tears of Fancie, Sonnets

19, 20, 1593; Henry Constable's Diana, Third Decade, Sonnet 9;

Sixth Decade, Sonnet 7, 1594 ; Drayton's Idea, 1619, Sonnet 33, a
rewritten version of Amour 33, Edition 1594.
3. 8. 13. 14. % MaloneTo (Capell MS.), their Q.
9. to side this title Q. adjudge this title to one or the other
:

side, viz. to the eye or to the heart which are at mortal war, the eye
292 NOTES
being the defendant in an action brought by the heart to recover its
'
title to the picture's sight' or 'fair appearance' of the Friend.
Sewell (Ed. Q) suggested ''cide.'
10. quest = a jury of inquest, here
'
'
impanneled to try the case.
Cf. Richard III., i. iv. 189 :
'
"What lawful quest have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge.'

12. moiety = portion.

XLVII. Betwixt mine eye and heart, etc : Connected with the
preceding sonnet.
10. art Malone (Capell MS.), are Q.

XLVIII. How careful was I, etc. : Connected with the preceding

sonnet.
11. Within the gentle closure of my breast : Cf. Venus and Adonis,
1. 782 :
'
Into the quiet closure of my breast.'

'
XLIX. 4. advised respects Cf. reasons of settled gravity/ 1. 8 ;
:

f
lawful reasons,' 1. 12. The metaphor of this Sonnet is drawn
from the law. The Poet imagines an audit at which the love of his
Friend for him shall discharge all its obligations.
10. desert, desart Q. Rhyming with part.
:

11. And this my hand against myself uprear The Poet will give :

evidence on oath, lifting his hand, but against himself and in con
firmation of the 'lawful reasons' urged by his Friend.
13. thou hast the strength of laws = thou hast the law on thy side.
14. Since why to love = since why you should love me.

L. 3. Doth teach that ease and that repose to say The end of his :

journey, which the Poet seeks, makes the ease and repose natural to
f
it, to say, Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend,' 1. 4.
First marked as a quotation by Malone.

LI. Connected with the preceding sonnet.

posting : To post is to travel without pausing by the use of fresh
4.

horses taken at certain stations or posts, hence to travel rapidly. Cf.

Milton :
'
And post o'er land and ocean without rest.'

swift extremity =
' '
6. the extreme of swiftness (Tyler).
In winged speed no motion shall I know
8. The whole expression :

of his line is hyperbolical. ' I shall perceive no progression in winged

 SONNETS 293
' '
speed an extravagant development of the conditional,
is I should
spur, though mounted on the wind/ in the preceding line.
10. perfect' st, perfects
Q.
11. Shall neigh, no dull flesh in his fiery race Shall neigh as a :

spirited horse neighs. A f race of colts was a sporting term of the '

'
time (Madden) akin to our bevy' of quails, 'wisp' of snipe, 'herd'
of deer.
14. to go = to walk step by step, or leisurely. Cf. Two Gentlemen of
Verona, in. i. 388 :

'
Thou must run to him ; for thou hast staid so long that going will scarce
serve the turn.'

'A foot . . . serveth to three purposes ... to go, to runne, and to stand
till . . . sometimes swift, sometimes slow ... or peradventure steddy.'
Arte of English Pocsic, 1589.

go = dismiss
'
Perhaps, also, with the second sense, Give him leave to
'
him (Tyler).

LII. 8. carcanet, carconet Q.

9. So is the time that keeps you as my chest : Cf. LXV. 10 :

'

Where, alack,
'
Shall Time's best jewel from Time's ohest lie hid ?

LIII. What is your substance, etc. : Cf. Note on xxxvu. 10, Note V.,
and Introduction, p. cxviii.-cxxiii.

LIV. 0, how much more doth beauty, etc. : Connected with the pre
ceding sonnet.
'
5. Dowden, Tyler, Bell explain, blossoms of the
Canker-blooms.
'
dog-rose,' following Malone The canker is the canker-rose or dog-
:

rose.' The rose and the canker are opposed in like manner in Much
I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose
(
Ado About Nothing :

in his grace.' Steevens comments :' Shakespeare had not yet begun
to observe the productions of nature with accuracy, or his eyes would
have convinced him that the is by no means of as deep a
cynorhodon '

colour as the rose. But what has truth or nature to do with sonnets ?

But, pace Steevens, the Poet here, as elsewhere in the Sonnets, meant
a blossom eaten by canker. The image is used five times to illustrate
one of the leading themes :

'And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.' xxxv. 5.

'For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love.' LXX. 7.

'Which like a canker in the fragrant Rose.' xcv. 2.

'
In pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.' xcrx. 13.
294 NOTES
Cf. also Venus and Adonis, 656 :

'This canker that eats up Love's tender spring.'

'
In the sweetest bud
The eating canker dwells. . . .'

Two Gentlemen of Verona, i. i. 43.

'
The most forward bud
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow.' Ibid., i. i. 46.

'Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds.'

Midsummer Night's Dream, n. ii. 3.

'Now will canker sorrow eat my bud.' King John, in. iv. 82.

'O, that this good blossom could be kept from cankers.'

2 Henry IV., n. ii. 102.
' '
Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ?

1 Henry VI., n. iv. 68.

'Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.'

Romeo and Juliet, n. iii. 30.

' '

So far as I
know, used by Shakespeare for the ' dog-rose
e
canker is

or wild briar only twice (Much Ado About Nothing, i. iii. 28 and
1 Henry IV., i.iii. 176).

14. vade. Cf. Passionate Pilgrim :

'Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded.'

14. my, Malone (Capell MS.) ; by Q.

LV. Not marble, nor the gilded, etc.: Tyler has traced a remarkable
similaritybetween this Sonnet and a passage in Meres' Palladis Tamia,
registered September 7, 1598. See Note III. (4).
1. monuments Malone, monument Q.

9. enmity, emnity Q.
f
Till the judgment
13. that yourself arise : Till the decree of the
f
judgment-day that you arise from the dead.' DOWDEN. Cf. the
'

ending doom of 1. 12.

LVI. Sweet love, renew thy force, etc. Opens GROUP D (LVI. -LXXIV. ).:

This Sonnet seems written in immediate anticipation of an absence

voluntarily imposed by the Friend.
9-12. The image is obscure. Perhaps it contains an allusion to

the story of Hero and Leander. Marlowe's two sestiads were published
in 1598.
9. Int'rim, Intrim Q.
13. Or, Malone, suggested to him by Tyrwhitt ; As Q. ; Else, Pal-
grave.
 SONNETS 295
LVII. 5. world-without-end, hyphened by Ewing(Capell MS.). Dow-
'
den explains : The tedious hour that seems as if it would never
end.' So, Love's Labour's Lost, v. ii. 799 :

'
A time methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.'

13. Will, thus in Q. Cf. cxxxv., cxxxvi., CXLIII.

LVIII. 6. Th' imprison d absence of your liberty = ihe absence which,

arising out of your liberty, is as
imprisonment to me.
7. And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check, Ewing ;
'
And
patience tame, to sufferance hide each check, Q.

LIX. If there be nothing new, etc. See Introduction, p. cxxvi.

:

6. hundred, hundreth Q.
8. character, carrecter Q.
'
11. whe'r, where Q. ; whether we are mended, or where better
they.' Cf. Venus and Adonis, 304 :

'And where he runne, or flie, they know not whether.'

LX. 1. pebbled, pibled Q.

5. Nativity, once in the main of light. Dowden explains '

The :

entrance of a child into the world at birth is an entrance into the

main or ocean of light; the image is suggested by 1. 1, where our
minutes are compared to waves.' Main may possibly echo the sea
imagery of the first quatrain, but this and the two next lines have
primarily and essentially an astrological significance. Nativity is a
term of Astrology denoting the moment of a child's birth in rela
tion to the scheme or figure of the heavens, particularly of the
Twelve Houses, at that moment, and it is employed by Shakespeare,
almost invariably, with this connotation :

'My nativity was under Ursa Major.' Lear, i. ii. 140.

1
Thou hast as chiding a nativity
As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,
To herald thee from the womb.' Pericles, in. i. 32.

'
At my nativity
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes.'
1 Henry IV., in. i. 13.

'
The ' crooked eclipses of 1. 7 derive also from astrology :

'
The mortal Moon hath her eclipse endured
And the sad Augurs mock their own presage.
'

Sonnet cvn. 5, 6.
296 NOTES
Crooked = malign.
'
'
Cf. Two Gentlemen of Verona, iv. i. 22 :

'
If crooked Fortune had not thwarted me '
;

'
and crooked malice/ Henry VIII. , v. iii. 44.
c '

Shakespeare uses the word main elsewhere for the principal por
tion or embodiment of that which follows it in the genitive case :

'
'
our main of power' (Troilus and Cressida, n. iii. 273) the main of ;

Poland' (Hamlet, iv. iv. 15); and Merchant of Venice, v. i. 97 :

'
As doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters.'

Main indeed came thus to mean the ocean as distinguished from

'
lesser waters,and the ' mainland as distinguished from islands :

'
In 1589 we turned challengers, and invaded the main of Spain.'
BACON. And here, though possibly with a secondary echo of the sea-
image from the first quatrain, main of light means the hollow sphere
of the universe filled with light as conceived in Shakespeare's day.

Life beginning at a point in time within the shining sphere of the

Heavens, whose aspect is charged with its fate, crawls to maturity only
to be thwarted by their fateful powers, and time despoils the worth of
his gift.
times in hope =
'
13. future times,' Dowden.

LXI. 3. broken: An assonantal rhyme with 'open,' 1. 1. Cf. cxx.

f
9-11, . . . remembred . . . tendred.'
4. While shadows like to thee do mock my sight : Cf. XLIII. 11, 12 :

'
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
'

Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay !

8. tenure Q. ; tenour Malone (Capell MS.) : Cf. Lucrece, 1310.

LXII. 7^ 8 : And my definition of my worth is such that, accord

ing to it, I excel all other men in all kinds of worth.
f
10. Seated The regular participle, from the verb to beat, may
:

be right. We
had in a former sonnet "weather-beaten face." In
'
King Henry V. we find ousted, and in Macbeth *Arufe</. MALONE.
He also suggests 'bated.' Cf. Merchant of Venice, in. iii. 32 :

'
These griefs and losses have so bated me,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
To-morrow.'
'
Dowden, retaining heated,' points out a possible connexion between
f
'bated,' from to bate/ a process of leather-dressing, and f tann'd/
f
tand/ in Q.
 SONNETS 297
11, 12. self-love . . .
self-loving, hyphened by Gildon.
13, 14. See Introduction, p. cxviii.

LXIII. 2. crush'd, chrusht Q.

LXIV. 10. Or state itself confounded to decay :

(
State
'
= condition
in the abstract ; that which things, conceived by the
is cognised in all

mind only inasmuch as they are conditioned. Cf. cxxiv. 1 :

'
If my dear love were but the child of state,'

where the Poet argues that his love is unconditioned and eternal.
13. This thought is as a death, which: Which = f inasmuch as it'
cannot choose, etc.

LXV. 6. wrackful, Ewing substituted wreckfull. Cf. cxxvi. 5 :

' '
Nature, Sovereign mistress over wrack ;

and Macbeth, v. v. 51 :
'

Blow, wind !
come, wrack !

At least we '11 die with harness on our back.'

10. Shall Times best jewel from Time's chest lie hid : Theobald
e
suggested Time's quest.' But cf. LII. 9 :

'So is the time that keeps you as my chest.'

12. of beauty Malone, 'or beautie' Q., 'o'er beauty' Capell MS.,
'
'
on beauty Gildon.

LXVI. Tiredwith all these, etc. : In this Sonnet only some of the
personifications have capitals
in Q. Nothing, Folly (Doctor-like), :

I follow the Kelmscott in generalis

Truth, Simplicitie, Captaine ill.
ing the practice.
8. disabled; dishabited, Bayne conj. (Notes and Queries, 1887);
discomforted, Anon. conj. (Ibid.).

LXVII. 4. lace : I.e. embellish itself. So, in Romeo and Juliet,

in. v. 8 :
'
What envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds.' STEEVENS.

The ornament was likeness to netting, from French

called lace from its

lacs, O. Fr. laz, Latin laqueus, originally a noose, and thus toils or a
net used in hunting, into which the stag or boar was driven :
'
Comment Vulcanus espia
Sa femme, et moult fort la lia
Dun laz avec Marz, ce me semble
Quant couchie"s les trouva ensemble.'
Roman de la Hose, 1. 14445-9.
1
That clay that I was tangled in the lace.' SURREY.
298 NOTES
Lace in the sixteenth century was, often, of gold or silver threads
applied in a large diagonal pattern,
sometimes with a pearl at each
intersection, upon a silk or satin foundation. It appears in many

portraits, notably in
those of Henry viu. and Francois i. The Poet,
(
when he uses the verb to lace,' had this embellishment in his mind
rather than what we now call lace :
Cloth o' gold, and cuts, and laced with silver,
'

Set with pearls.' Much Ado About Nothing, in. iv. 20.

'
Here lay Duncan
His silver skin laced with his golden blood.'
Macbeth, n. iii. 118.

f
The ornaments on an English called gold lace.'
officer's tunic are still

5-8. false-painting Roses of shadow, since his Rose is true.

. . . An
allusion, perhaps primarily, to the imitation of the Friend's beauty by
the use of cosmetics among his companions, but, as I submit, also
'
and with deeper intention, to the false art' of 'other f eternizers,'
viz. the Rival Poets. See Introduction, p. cxxiv.-cxxvi. Cf. xxi. 1-3,
etc. :

'
So is it not with me as with that Muse
by a painted beauty to his verse
Stirr'd
"Who heaven itself for ornament doth use,' etc.

'
To shew false Art what beauty was of yore.' LXVIII. 14.

'
Yet when they have devized
What strained touches Rhetoric can lend,
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.' ; LXXXII. 9-14.
'
Inever saw that you did painting need,
And therefore to your fair no painting set.' LXXXIII. 1, 2.

'Who is it that says most? which can say more

Than this rieh praise, that you alone are you ? . . .'

LXXXIV. 1, 2.

'

My Muse in manners holds her still.

tongue-tied
While comments of your praise, richly compiled,
Reserve their character with golden quill
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.' LXXXV. 1-4.

Note that in Love's Labour's Lost our poet compares '

praise' to
'
painting' (Act IT. i.
13, 14) :

'

My beauty, though but mean,

'
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise ;
 SONNETS 299
and in Act iv. iii. he runs on from this illustration :

'Lend me the flourish of allgentle thoughts,

Fie, painted rhetoric !
O, she needs it not. . . .'

to a direct allusion to the use of cosmetics :

'
O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,
It mourns that painting and usurping hair
Should ravish doters with a false aspect.'

That to say, he uses the term painting precisely with that double
is

sense which I attribute to it here.

dead seeing dead semblance.
6.

Beauty: Thus with a capital in the Kelmscott.

7. I retain the
( '

capital here, ^and in Nature (Cambridge), 1. 9, believing that poor

(
Beauty is, not beauty indifferent and imperfect' (Tyler), but
'
abstract Beauty personified arid called poor,' as abstract Nature per
'
sonified is stated to be beggar'd/ and with 'no exchequer now but
his/ 11. 10, 11.
12. proud of many Proud of the multiplicity of
: life with an
appearance of beauty, possesses true beauty only in him.

LXVIII. 1. map: Cf. Richard II. ,

v . i. 12.: 'Thou map of honour.'
'In thy face I see The map of honour.' 2 Henry VI., in. i. 203.
'Thou map of woe.' Titus Andronicus, in. ii. 12. Illustrations are
'
e
frequently drawn from a map by Elizabethan writers, owing to the
interest aroused by voyages to the New World Cf. Twelfth Night,
in. ii. 85 :

'
He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the aug
mentation of the Indies.'
'
Age rules my lines with wrinkles in my face ;

Where, in the Map of all my Misery.'

DRAYTON, Idea, XLIV. (1619, first published 1599).

3. borne, borne* Q. spelling restricts the Poet's play on

: Modern
this word: he employs it to mean 'borne,' but also to suggest
'
' '
born,' with an echo of lived and died in the preceding line.
5. golden tresses. Cf. Surrey:

'Her golden tresses cladde alway with blacke.'

7. second, scond Q.
10. Without all ornament : Cf. Bassanio's long tirade against
'ornament' (Merchant of Venice, in. iii. 73-100):
'
So may the outward shows be least themselves :
The world is still deceived with ornament,' etc.
300 NOTES
LXIX. 3. due Tyrwhitt, end Q.: 'The letters that compose the
word due were probably transposed at the press, and the u inverted/
4. commend, Commend Q.
5. Thy Malone, 1780 (Capell MS.) Their Q. ;

14. soil, solye Q. 'As the verb "to soil" is not uncommon in
:

" to ''
This question
old English, meaning solve," as, for example :

'
could not one of theim soile (Udal's Erasmus, Luke, fol. 154 &), so
the substantive "soil" may be used in the sense of
" solution." The
play upon words thus suggested is in the author's manner.' Cam
( ' ' f
bridge. Cf. Assoil for absolve,' meaning (1) to solve, to assoil this
'

seeming difficulty (Waterland) ; (2) to pronounce absolution :

'To some bishop we will wend,

Of all the sins that we have done,
To be assailed at his hand.' Percy Reliques.
' '
The solve,' Malone; 'the sole,' Steevens; the foil/ Caldecott.

LXX. 6. Thy, Their Q. Woo'd of Time, woo'd of time Q. Tyler

' (
refers this to slander' in 1. 5.: Slander coming under the soothing
influence of time will show thy worth to be greater.' Dowden, refer
'
ring the phrase to the Friend, accepts Steevens' argument that of
time = ' of the times,' giving Steevens' quotation from Ben Jonson's
'

Every Man out of his Humour, O, how I hate the monstrousness of

'

t
time.' It should, however, be noted that Asper' in the same pro
'
logue has, I '11 strip the ragged follies of the Time They shall . . .

'
see the Time's deformity. ... Do not I know the Time's condition ?
Sonnets = not
c ' f
I suggest that time here, as elsewhere in The the
time' or 'the times' but, 'Time,' personified. Cf. cxvii. 6, 'And

given to Time your own dear-purchas'd right,' and the Note on that
line, in which the remaining examples are collected. The sense is :

'
If only you be virtuous, slander doth but approve your worth the

greater, sinceyou are woo'd by Time ( = wooed and not yet won by
Time, an object still for .Time's solicitation), for you are in your
"pure unstained prime," and "canker-vice loves the sweetest buds."'
Malone's correspondent 'C.' (probably Capell) suggested 'wood
' '
oftime (1780) and ' wood of time (1790), referring the last to slander
and explaining ' wood = mad.
'
Other conjectures have been 'void
'
of crime,' Malone (withdrawn) ; ' weigh'd of time/ Delius woo'd of ;

crime/ Staunton.
8.
unstained, unstayined Q.
10-12. . . charged . .
enlarged, charg'd. . .
inlarged Q.
. . En .

larged = let loose. In Ireland the stag to be hunted is still said to be

enlarged when let out of its cart.
 SONNETS 301
LXXI. 4. vilest Gildon, vildest Q.

LXXII. fake, falce Q.

9.

12. And no more to shame nor me nor you.

live Here, as else
where, the poet uses terms of moral censure when delivering an
artistic judgment. The next two lines prove that the ' shame 'is for
the verses he brings forth. Thus ' of me untrue/ 1. 10, must mean,
at least in part : of me whose poetry is
imperfect. Unless, indeed,
untrue be an adverb = untruly and qualifying ' '

speak well.

LXXIII. 4. Bare ruirid, edition 1640 ; Bare rn'wd Q. : This most

beautiful image was nearer and more vivid when many great abbeys,
opened to the weather within the memory of men living, were
c
beginning to be ruins ere they were forgotten as chantries, where the
sad and solemn priests sing.'

LXXIV. But be contented, etc. : Closes GROUP D.

I. contented when Malone, contented when Q.
:

3. some interest = some revenue of fame falling in, year by year,

'
after my death. Thus tears are sorrow's interest' (Lucrece, 1797,
and Sonnet xxxi. 7).
8. My spirit is thine, the better part of me : Cf. Drayton's Idea, XLIV.
(1619, first published 1599) :

'
Ensuing Ages yet my Rhymes shall cherish
Where I entombed my better part shall save.'

II. The coward conquest of a wretch's knife Some : discover a

reference here to an actual wound suffered by the poet. But it is,
I think, metaphorical the destruction of the body by death and its
:

subsequent corruption is a squalid tragedy.

12. remembered Sewell, remembred Q. There is little authority
for the emendation. The verb is, almost invariably, remembre in
the writings of Shakespeare and his contemporaries. If so, the line
'
is defective ; cf. LXVI. 8, disabled.'

13, 14. The worth of that (

= the body) t* that which it contains (
= the
spirit). And that is this (
= the poet's verse).

LXXV. 2. sweet-season d, hyphened by Maloue. Seasoned = season

able.
3. peace of you = 'ipe&ce of possessing your love,' in antithesis to
'strife.'
6. Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure.
The note struck here, and in the next sonnet, with its reminiscence
302 NOTES
of xxxn., seems prelusive to Group E, LXXVIII.-LXXXVI. But that the
theme dropped in LXXVII., LXXV. and LXXVI. might be included in
is

that Group.

LXXVI. 3., 4. Why with the time do I not glance aside

To new-found methods and to compounds strange ?
Cf. xxxn. 4-8. :

'
These poor rude lines of thy deceased Lover :

Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,

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 ;
'

and cxxv. 5-7 :

'
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent
For compound sweet.'

7. tell Malone (Capell MS.), fel Q. / and t are very similar in the
type (1609). Spell Nicholson, conj.

'
LXXVII. Thy glass will show thee, etc. :
Probably this sonnet was
designed to accompany a present of a book consisting of blank paper/
STEEVENS. ' This conjecture seems to me very probable. learn We
from the 122nd Sonnet that Shakespeare received a table-book from his
'
friend. MALONE. Dowden conjectures that the Poet began a new MS.
with Sonnet LXXV., and ' knowing that his Friend was favouring a
rival/ ceased writing after this sonnet, inviting his Friend to fill up
the blank pages. Tyler rejects this view. Whether the book was
wholly, or partially blank, the sense is clear : viz., that the Friend is
to set down the reflections suggested by his glass and dial, on the
blank pages of a book sent him by the Poet: 1. 13, ' These offices, so
'
oft as thou wilt look/ i.e. in your glass or at your dial ; 1. 14, Shall
profit thee and much enrich thy book/
1. wear Sewell, were Q.

2. minutes, mynuits Q.
3. The, These (Capell MS.) and Malone conj.
10. blanks Theobald, blacks Q.
13, 14. Ewing's edition, by a strange error, substituted the final
couplet of cvm.

LXXVIII. So oft have I invoked thee, etc. :

Opens GROUP E, LXXVIII.-
LXXXVI. xxxn.
; cf.

3. As every Alien pen hath

got my use = not my manner of writing
or style, but my habit of praising you in verse. Note that more Rival
 SONNETS 303
'
Poets than one are referred to : 1. 11, In others' works thou dost but
mend the style.'
'
6. fly, flie Q. : Dowden
states, The Quarto lias flee.' This, accord
ing- to Cambridge, true of the copy in the Bridgewater Library.
is

7. leamed's, learneds Q.
10. born, borne Q.
'
LXXIX. 4. another place': some one Rival is singled out.

LXXX. 7. saucy Gildon, sawsie Q.

1 1 . wreck' d, wrackt Q.

LXXXI. 9-14. The present Countess of Pembroke states (Pall Mall

' f
Magazine, October 1897) that these lines, with ever' for even' in
'
1.
14, are found written in seventeenth-century character on an old
parchment, pasted on the back of a panel bearing a small painting of
1

William, third Earl of Pembroke, and beneath them the following

words :

"William, Earl Pembroke, died suddenly April 10, 1630. When his body was
opened in order to be embalmed, he was observed (on the incision being made)
to lift up his hand. This circumstance may be depended upon as fact, having
been related by a member of the family, and was considered by the faculty to
afford strong presumptive evidence that the distemper of which he died was
apoplexy."'

I am indebted to Lord Pembroke for the information that a letter,

now unfortunately mislaid, existed at Wilton from Lady Pembroke
to her son, the third Earl, telling him to bring James i. over from

Salisbury to witness a representation of As You Like It. The letter

contained the words: 'We have the man Shakespeare with us.'
Since the lock of Queen Elizabeth's hair, to be seen at Wilton, was
once similarly mislaid, it is to be hoped that this letter may also be

brought to light. Lord Pembroke has no doubt but that Shakespeare

was often at Wilton, and he adds that a good statue of him stands in
Holbein's Porch, indicating that the tradition of his connexion with
Wilton is of old standing. There is at Wilton a copy of Poems of
Lord Pembroke (the 3rd Earl) and Sir Benjamin Rudyard.
13. pen, Pen in Q. = poetry or style. See Note V.
14. Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men Iii :

Shakespeare's day the breath was all but identified with the spirit,
and the mouth, consequently, is held in special honour by platonic
writers. In Hoby's Courtyer, iv. (1561), kissing is defended on the
ground of the sanctity attaching to the mouth as the gateway of the
soul.
 304 NOTES
'
LXXX1I. 3. This may only mean devoted wordy,
dedicated words :

but probably has reference to the words of some dedication prefixed to

' '
a book.' DOWDEN. Tyler agrees. Dedicate is a word often used by
Shakespeare, and always in its ordinary sense. It bears it here, but

refers, as I think, to the body of the book the praises dedicated to

their object and not merely to the prefixed dedication.
5-14; Thou art as fair, etc.: Cf. xxi., xxxn., LXVII., LXVIII., LXXV.
LXXVJ., the whole of this Group, LXXVIII. -LXXXI. , and cxxv.
8. time-bettering, hyphened by Gildon.

11. sympathized, matched with congruity, harmonised. Cf. Loves

Labour 's Lost, in. i. 52 :

Arm. '
Fetch hither the swain ; he must carry me a letter.
Moth. A message well sympathized ; a horse to be ambassador for an ass. 3

'
True sorrow then is feelingly sufficed
When with like semblance it is sympathized.' Lucrece, 1113.

12. true-telling :
Hyphened by Sewell (ed. 1).

LXXXIII. 1, 2. painting = high-flown poetical praise. Cf. LXXXV.

3,4:-
'
Comments of your praise, richly compiled,
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.'

2. yo ur fair = your beauty. Cf. Venus and Adonis, 1086 :

'
Sun and sharp air
Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair.'

'Neither in inward worth nor outward fair.' Sonnet xvi. 11.

modern = ' common

' '
7. or trite,' Malone. But the ordinary sense
is intended.In the Sonnets the poet constantly contrasts Modernity
unfavourably with Antiquity. Cf. LIX. :

'
Show me your image in some antique book.
'
In him those holy antique hours are seen.' LXVIII.
'

antique pen would have expressed

I see their
Even such beauty as you master now.' cvi.
'
But makes antiquity for aye his page. cvm.

LXXXIV. 1, 2. ... most ? . . .

you ? pointed by Malone ;
. . .
most,
. . .
you, Q.
4. grew, grew? Staunton
conj. (Alten, 1874). But the sense is
that 'the store,' 1. 3 = the whole wealth of Beauty, which should
show your parallel, is enclosed in you.
 SONNETS 305
5. pen, Pen Q. =Poet.
8. story. Q. story, Cambridge (1866). Cambridge (1893) reverts
to the punctuation of the Quarto.
14. Being fond on praise., which makes your praises worse : Cf. A
Midsummer Night's Dream, u. i. 226 :

;
That he may prove
More fond on her than she upon her love.'
( "
Tyler explains, By which your praise," the praise due to you, is
'

really lessened and deteriorated. But, in view of the general con

'
tention of the Group that precious phrase by all the Muses filed'
(LXXXV. 4) an injury to the Truth of the Friend's Beauty may
is

it not mean that the Friend, by his indiscriminate '

patronage of eter-
nizers,' encourages the production of meretricious verse ?

LXXXV. Reserve their character

3. The u, for v, in Reserve is in
:

verted in Q. The phrase has been generally considered unintelligible.

Reserve = preserve, Malone. '
But what does preserve their character
mean?' DOWDEN. Tyler accepts an anon. conj. ' rehearse' for ' re
serve/ and suggests thy' for their,' explaining character = face.
f ' ' ' ' '

But in view of the general drift of the Group the meaning is not
obscure. Reserve their character = preserve or treasure up their style
by labouring it preciously, with a secondary suggestion of fastidious
restraint. The sense goes on, ' with golden quill and precious phrase
by all the Muses filed,' and, 1. 8, ' In polish'd form of well-refined
pen': cf. the 'strained touches' of Rhetoric (LXXXII.), the painting of
e '
LXXXII. and LXXXIII. ; also, the false painting of LXVII. 5, arid false
Art of LXVIII. Reserve often used by Shakespeare for preserve.
is Cf.
' '
i. 40
Pericles, iv. : reserve that excellent complexion. That character
= style, confirmed by its being printed with a capital in Q.
is See
Note V., and cf. Pen ; thus in Q., LXXXI. 13, and LXXXIV. 5.
'
14. speaking in effect, i.e. in love to you/ 1. 11.

LXXXVI. 2. (all-too-precious), (all-to-precious) Q. The Cambridge

omits the hyphens in citing Q. and attributes them to Ewing. As they
are in Q. I retain them.
7. compeers, compiers Q. This, and the whole passage 5-10, shows
that the Rival boasted of inspiration from the mighty dead. See
Note IV. on Rival Poets.

LXXXVII. Farewell! thou art too dear, etc. :

Opens GROUP F.,
LXXXVII.-XCVI.
4. determinate = expired. 'The term is used in legal conveyancing'
U
306 NOTES
(Malone). Cf. other technical terms of law in this Sonnet charter, :

=
bonds, granting, patent (1. 8) a grant by letters patent.
11. misprision, mistaking, from O. Fr. mesprise, a mistake ; mes-
Cf. Much Ado About Nothing, iv. i. 187
prendre, to mistake. :

Friar.
'
There issome strange misprision in the princes
Bene. ... if their wisdoms be misled in this. . . .'

'
The Guide into Tongues (1617) gives :
Misprision signifieth in our
Common Law, neglect, or negligence, or oversight. As for example
of Treason, is a neglect, or light account shewed of treason
Misprision
committed, by not revealing it when we know it to be committed.
Misprision signifieth also a mistaking.'

LXXXV1II. 1. disposed, dispode Q.

8. shalt, shall Q.
12. double-vantage :
Hyphened by Malone.

LXXXIX. 3. See Note on xxxvu. 9.

7. disgrace: disgrace, Q.
8. / will acquaintance strangle and look strange. Cf. Drayton, Idea,
LXI. (first published 1619) :

'
And when we meet at any time again
Be not seen in either of our brows
it

That we one jot of former love retain.'

XC. 4. after-loss :
Hyphened by Sewell.
strains = kinds, with the sense, also, of comparative degrees
13.
=
(O. Eng. streen stock, race). Cf. The fine strains of honour (Coriolanus,
v. iii. 149); Or swell my thought to any strain of pride (2 Henry IV.,

iv. v. 171).The poet, perhaps, plays here, as often, on the identity of

thisword with the other strain (O. Fr. estraindre=to strain), suggesting
the strain imposed by woes on the sufferer. Tyler holds that it may
' '
also involve the idea of extension or lengthening.

XCI. 2. bodies , bodies Q. , body's Cambridge, Tyler, Dowden. But

cf. 1. 3, garments.
4. Hawkes . . . Hounds . . .
Horse, all with capitals in Q. See
Note V. on the Typography of Quarto 1609. '
Horse. Probably the
plural meaning horses.' DOWDEN. He cites :

'Another tell him of his hounds and horse.'

Taming of the Shrew, Induction.

But horse is not merely a plural. The capitals show that all three
 SONNETS 307
words are generalised, and that they stand for the establishments and
pursuits of Hawking, Hunting, and the Manege. We still write of a
man ' taking the Hounds,' and of the Master of the Horse.' '

9. better, bitter Q.
11. Hawkes . . . Horses in Q.

XCII. 13. what 's, whats Q.

XCIH. 8. strange. Q. ;strange, Cambridge. I retain the punctua

tion of Q. in the first two quatrains, substituting ( ) for (,) after

(
change,' 1. 6.

13. Eves, Eaves Q. : See Note V. on the Typography of the

Quarto 1609.

XCIV. They that have power to hurt, etc.: This Sonnet is a limb
of the continuous argument embodied in Group F. (LXXXVII.-XCVI.),
and, so read, is not obscure. The Friend, as described in the
preceding number, has a face of which the beauty is a constant
expression of love, so that, whatever his thoughts may be, his looks
can tell only of sweetness. But this beauty becomes the type of
temptation if it be not a true index of virtue. Continuing, in xciv.
the Poet develops the ambiguity of the theme. He first puts the
case of those who, with an outward beauty that is the engine of
temptation, are themselves cold and not easily tempted. They are
the owners and controllers of their beauty ; but, putting the alter
native case, those whose beauty, not only tempts but also, leads them
into temptation, are but dispensers of it. As an emblem of the first
the Poet takes a flower which is sweet to the world around it, although
it blossoms and dies to itself, self-contained and unregarding : as an
emblem of the second, such a flower if it be infected with a canker.

Then it is more noisome than a weed.

* '

In the next Sonnet the Poet, dwelling on the ill reports that affect
the Friend's good name, notes that his beauty can still turn censure
into f a kind of praise,' but warns him not to abuse this privilege.
And in the next, after elaborating this theme of the privilege of
beauty, he reverts to the theme, initiated in xciu., of the Friend's
changelessMask of Beauty, and implores him not to abuse the ad
vantage which it confers.
14. far worse than weeds
Lilies that fester smell : This line occurs
in King Edward HI., a play first printed in 1596. See Note III. on
the Date of the Sonnets' Composition.

XCVI. 9, 10. Lambs . . . Wolfe . . . Lambe in Q. They are

308 NOTES
See Note V. on the Typography of the
types used as in a fable.
Printed without capitals, the question might well he ad
Quarto.
dressed to any farmer.
11. mightst, mighst Q.
13-14. The couplet is repeated from xxxvi.

XCVII. How like a Winter hath my absence been, etc. The break :

between this and the preceding sonnet seems the most marked in the
First Series.
1. Winter in Q.
5. this time removed = this time of absence or seclusion. Cf.
Measure for Measure, i. iii. 8 :

'
How I have ever loved the life removed.'

Q. The, And Capell MS., Then Isaac conj.

teeming = pregnant.
f
Cf. The childing autumn' (Midsummer
Night's Dream, n. i.
111).
7. the prime = Spring (Dowden), or, rather, the climax of Nature's
activity (in the Spring). Cf. As You Like It, v. iii. 33 :

'
For love is crowned with the prime
In spring time.'
'
Like little frosts that sometime threat the spring,
To add a more rejoicing to the prime.' Lucrece, 331-2.

10. hope of orphans, Orphans Q. = f hope of leaving posthumous

'

offspring (Tyler).

XCV1II. From you have I been absent in the spring, etc. The last :

Sonnet was evidently written after an absence in late summer and

autumn; this one after an absence in April. See Note III. on the
Date of the Sonnets' Composition.
1-4. .
spring
. . trim thing. .him. The assonance
. . . . . . :

between the two rhyme-sounds, usually a blemish, is here an effect

of art. The quick treble repetition of short 2-sounds seems to have
suggested Spring to the Elizabethans. Cf. As You Like It, v. iii. :

'
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding :

Sweet lovers love the spring.'

'
Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king ;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
Cuckoo, jug jug, pu we, to witta woo.'
THOMAS NASH'S Summer s Last Will and Testament, 1600.
 SONNETS 309
2. proud-pied = f
gorgeously variegated
'

(Schmidt). Cf. Love's

Labour 's Lost, v. ii. 904 :

'Daisies pied and violets blue.'

4. Heavy Saturn, Saturne in Q. : See Note V. on Typography

of the Quarto. The planet Saturn
f
is melancholy author of . . .

solitariness ... in labour patient, in arguing or disputing grave

... in all manner of actions austere.' An Introduction to Astrology
by William Lilly, 1647.
9-10. Lily's (Lillies Q.) . . . Rose in Q.: (See Note V. on Typo
graphy.)
12-14. pattern shadow. . . : See Note on xxxvu. 10, and Intro
duction, pp. cxviii.-cxxiii.

XCIX. The forward violet, etc.: Connected with the preceding

Sonnet.
7. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair : Dowden cites

Suckling's Tragedy of Brennoralt, iv. i. :

'
Hair curling, and cover'd like buds of marjoram ;
'
Part tied in negligence, part loosely flowing :

and adds Mr. Hart's suggestion 'that the marjoram has stolen,
not colour but perfume from the young man's hair.' The Guide into
f
Tongues quotes Gerard: planta est odorata tota,' and the clean,
aromatic scent of this sweet-herb counted, no doubt, for something in
suggesting the simile, but the quotation from Suckling gives the
more direct clue. The illustration is, primarily, from the fresh,
close-leaved spike of marjoram with the crisp bunch of little buds
at its summit. Cf. Two Noble Kinsmen :

'
His head 's yellow,
Hard hayr'd, and curl'd, thicke twind, like ivy-tops,
Not to undoe with thunder. . . .'

9. one, our Q.
13. canker : See Note, LIV. 5.
These flower-sonnets are in a mode imitated from Petrarch, which
overran Europe in the sixteenth century. The Pleiade worked it
vigorously and then attacked it, as Shakespeare attacks it in xxi. , and
again in cxxx. Du Bellay, who attacked it fifty years earlier :

'
Noz bons Ayeulx, qui cest art demenoient,
Pour en parler, Petrarque n'apprenoient,
Ains franchement leur Dame entretenoient
Sans fard, ou couverture
Mais aussi tost qu' Amour s'est faict s^avant.'
310 NOTES
Why, then :

'
De voz beautez, ce n'est que tout fin or,

Perles, crystal, marbre, et ivoyre encor,

Et tout 1'honneur de 1'Indique thresor,
'
Fleurs, lis, ceillets, et roses :

is equally inconsistent. Neither the Ple'iade nor the Elizabethans

'
could altogether forswear Enam'ling with pied flowers their thoughts
'

of gold (Sidney).

C. W.here art thou, Muse, that thou forget' st so long Opens GROUP :

G., c.-cxxv. See Introduction, pp. cxiii.-cxv., cxxvii.-cxxx.

9. resty, restive Malone ; adopted by Tyler, with the gloss
'
restive :

may be taken here as equivalent to uneasy.' But the sense is exactly

' '
opposite. Resty' or restive' was a term of manege applied
(
to a horse exhibiting the vice now called jibbing.' In a book by
'maister Blundevill of Newton Flatman, in Norffolke (1597),' the
'
'
following correction to be used against restiveness is recommended :

'
Let a footman stand behind you with a shrewd cat tied at the one
end of a long pole, with her bellie upward, so that she may have hir
mouth and claws at libertie and when your horse doth staie or goe ;

backward let him thrust the cat between his thighs, sometimes by the
rump and let the footman and all the standers-by threaten the
. . .

horse with a terrible noise, and you shall see it will make him goe as
you will have him ; and on so doing be ready to make much of him.
Also the shrill crie of a hedgehog being strait tied by the foot under
the horse's tail is a reminder of like force, which was proved by
maister Vincentio Respino, a Neapolitan, who corrected by this
means an old restive horse of the King's in such sort, as he had much
ado afterwards to keep him from the contrarie vice of running away.'
Spectator, 15th August 1891.
'
CI. 6-8. Truth needs no colour, etc. : First printed as a quotation
by Malone.
'
6. Truth needs no colour with his colour fix'd : Fix is here a term
of painting = to congeal, to deprive of volatility. Cf. Winter's Tale,
v. iii. 47 :

'
The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour 's
Not dry. . . .'

The Poet plays on the word colour, which, in the first instance, means
defence, extenuation. Cf. 1 Henry VI., n. iv. 43 :

'I ove no colours, and without all colour

Of base insinuating flattery
I pluck this white rose. . . .'
 SONNETS 311
Here, as elsewhere throughout the Sonnets, the poet may allude, in a
secondary sense, to the truth = constancy of the Friend, hut primarily
lie deals with the philosophic theory of the Truth of Beauty (see Intro

duction), e.g. 1. 2, truth in beauty dyed ; 1. 3, truth and beauty on my

love depends ; 1. 6, Truth with his colour fix'd = embodied in his
. . .

beauty ; 1.
7, beauty's truth.

CII. 1. strengthened, strengthned Q.

7. Philomell in Q. See Note V. on the Typography of the Quarto
1609.
8. his Q., Kelmscott, Tyler, her Housman (Collection of English
Sonnets, 1835).
11. bough Gildon, bow Q.

CHI. 13. sit, fit Delius corij. But Shakespeare uses this verb
with a sense frequently comparable to that of the noun seat. Cf.
xxxvu. 7 :

'
Entitled in their parts do crowned sit.'

'
Within his thought her heavenly image sits,
And in the self -same seat sits Collatine.' Lucrccc, 288-9.

CIV. 5. Autumne in Q. See Note V. on Typography.

9. dial-hand, Dyall hand Q.

CV. 1. idolatry, Idolatry Q.

2. idol, Idoll Q.
1-4. His is not idolatry since he worships only at one
love
'
shrine. There
a liturgical suggestion in since all alike my songs
is

and praises be, To one, of one. .' . .

6, 7. Constant constancy.
. .There may be a slight play on
.

the words: constant = fixed, constancy = the quality of fixedness, but

perhaps with a secondary allusion to constancy in love.
8. difference = accidents, differentiae. The poet lays terms of logic
under contribution. This points to a philosophic drift, or suggestion,
which should be noted. In ci. and elsewhere he has identified Truth
'
with Beauty in the person of the Friend ; and here, his three
themes in one' (1. 13), viz. ' Fair, kind, and true which three, . . .

'
till now, never
kept seat in one are, after all, nothing else than the
three primal categories of philosophy the Good, the Beautiful, and
the True.

CVI. 1. chronicle, Chronicle Q.

312 NOTES
7. pen, Pen Q.
= art of Poetry. See Note V. on the Typography
of the Quarto 1609.
11. divining, devining Q., foreseeing, as one foresees who practices
divination. Cf. Milton:
'
Yet oft his heart divine of something ill

Misgave him.'
12. still Q., skill Maloiie (Tyrwhitt conj. and Capell MS.). This
emendation has been universally adopted, but it puts the sense of
the last six lines out of focus. They suggest a sharp antithesis by
their sound which, however, with this emendation, they blur by their
sense. In 11. 1-8 the Poet defers, here as elsewhere, to the artistic
'
excellence of the antique presentment of beauty ; cf. : LIX. Shew
''
me your image in some antique book LXVIII. In him those holy
;
'
antique hours are seen' ; cvm. But makes antiquity for aye his page.'
In the'se passages, and here, he assumes that the Ideal is, as we say, the
Classic, the type determined long since by a tradition of great artists.
'
'
The Quarto reads, They had not still enough your worth to sing ;
'
although they could write could, indeed, blazon sweet beauty's
best' still they lacked something essential, viz. the model which we

can behold and wonder at, ( but lack tongues to praise.' They had
'
the tongues,' but lacked the model we have the model, but not their
;

excellence in the art of description. Tyrwhitt's emendation, by

'
denying the antients' skill,' defeats the antithesis of the passage and
counters Shakespeare's general view of their excellence in Art.

CVII. Not mine own fears, etc. This Sonnet is obscure unless
:

it be read as a limb of the sustained attack on Time (c.-cxxv.),

which culminates in a denial of its reality (cxxm.-iv.) The sense
seems to be: 11. 1-4, f Not mine own fears (expressed in civ.),
nor the whole world's prophetic expectation of things to come
'
(suggested by divining eyes' of cvi.) implying, as it does, that
they are to come in place of the things that are can limit the con
tinuation of my love, which, in common with all things, seems, but
only seems, subject to limitation. LI. 5-8 have been held to refer,

by Massey and Minto, to the death of Elizabeth ; by Tyler, to the

Rebellion of Essex. I doubt both explanations, and it suffices for the
sense that they do point to some crisis, in Nature or Politics, which
excited an apprehension not justified by the event. So, the poet goes
'
on (11. 9-14), ( does my love now look fresh in this most balmy time
(Tyler suggests that the sonnet may have been written in spring or
summer) and, reverting to the theme of immortality conferred by his
verse, Death makes submission to the victory of his verse.
 SONNETS 313
12. dull andspeechless tribes = those who, being unable to write
immortal verse, are voiceless after death.
14. crests: I.e. on mortuary achievements.

CVIII. 3. ... new now Q. .new . new Malone. The

. . . . . . .

(1) What new

emendation is unnecessary. There are two ideas :

thing can be said, which has not been said ; (2) What can be said now,
to-day, when I am taking up my pen again, a practice once abandoned.
5, 6. but yet, like prayers divine, I must each day say o'er the,
(
very same. Cf. the liturgical suggestion of cv. Since
'
.3, all alike my
songs and praises be, To one, of one. . . .

7, 8. Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,

Even as when first I hallow' d thy fair name :

Cf. 'Our love was new when I was wont to greet it with
. . .

my lays' (en.). This was some three years earlier (civ.), and even
then the Poet had touched this theme tentatively then as now :

' '

given the identity of himself with his friend, Thou mine, I thine
'
he counted ' no old thing old not even his own face chopp'd with ;
'

tann'd antiquity' (LXII.), since

4
'Tis thee (my self) that for myself I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy days.'

The primary sense begins at this point to be doubled by a larger

philosophic sense. The obvious meaning that neither the Poet's
'
songs and praises,' though 'all alike' (cv.), nor the beauty of the
'
Friend, though it steals away,' can ever be old (civ.) is stated

in terms so wide as to embrace a mystical suggestion that this, which

is true of the Friend's beauty and of the Poet's devotion, is also true
universally. Eternal Love (1. 9), in ' love's fresh case,' as differen
tiated by accident, is unaffected by age. So, in cv. , the Poet, when
'
one thing expressing leaves out difference,' because he is singing
that which is
'
constant in a wondrous excellence
'
=a thing miracu
lously abstracted from the scheme of Time and Change. This Sonnet
is an
integral part of the whole 'satire to decay' (c.-cxxv.), the
machinery of which consists in a retrospect over the inward moods
and outward chances that have befallen to the Poet and the Friend
during three years. But these actual experiences serve for texts to
an esoteric doctrine which affirms the eternity of Love and denies the
reality of Time.
12. But makes antiquity for aye his page I am convinced that :

the Poet does not refer to any change in the outward beauty of the
Friend. He has just declared (civ.), 'as you were' i.e. three years
314 NOTES
earlier 'such seems your beauty still.' He is arguing, indeed, from
the constancy of his own love, and from the incidents of the last three
years ; but in 11. 9-14 he advances from these premises to a general
statement, given in sonorous terms that Eternal Love in its suc :

cessive embodiments, each conditioned by accident, transcends the

'
injury of age.' And when he says that Eternal Love makes antiquity
his page for ever, he associates with the theme, that the Friend can
never seem old to him (civ. ), the more esoteric theme of cv. , that the
e '
'
praise of ladies dead and lovely knights the blazon of sweet
beauty's best,' by the 'antique pen' of earlier generations is but
'
a prophecy prefiguring' the beauty now embodied in the Friend.
Thus in the apparent immutableness of the Friend's beauty ; and,
more largely, in the antique preshadowing of this incarnation of an
eternal type by writers, long dead, describing beautiful men and
women long dead does the Poet come to find (1. 13) the first con
(
ception of love originating where time and outward form would show
it dead.'
This closes the exordium (c.-cvm.) of the whole attack on the power
of Time and Decay (c.-cxxv.). Then, in cix.-cxiv. the poet illustrates
his thesis by reviewing and explaining away the
appearances of change
in his love. In cxv. , cxvi. he reverts to the thesis of the exordium.
In CXVII.-GXXII. he continues the review of, and
apology for, his apparent
inconstancy. In cxxn. , coming to one instance of such apparent in
constancy, he puts in his defence for having given to another a book of
tables, given to him by the Friend, and makes it serve for a transition
to the peroration of the whole
argument (cxxm., cxxiv.) in which by
comparison with the eternity and the changelessness of Love he denies
the reality of Time.

CX. 2. a motley = & jester, or fool 'A motley

: Cf. fool' (Ay You
Like It, passim).
Made of affections new = enduring offences' (Tyler).
4. '
old offences

Askance, asconce Q.
6.

7. blenches =
swervings to one side, as when a horse shies. Cf.
Measure for Measure, iv. v. 5 :

'
Sometimes you do blench from this to that.'

9. have . . .
have, save . . . have Malone (Tyrwhitt The
conj.).
emendation is
unnecessary.
12. A God in line to whom I am This line seems to be '
confined .

a reminiscence of the
thoughts expressed in cv. and to refer to the
First Commandment.' DOWDEN. I agree, and, if it be so, the refer
ence to heaven in 13
1.
may be in the nature of a
saving clause.
 SONNETS 315
CXI. 1. with Gildon, wish Q.
10. eisel, Eysell Q., vinegar (Anglo-Saxon visile). Cf. Chaucer,
'Eisell strong and egre.' Steevens quotes A Merry Geste of the
Frere and the Boye :

'
God that dyed for us all
And dranke both eysell and gall.'
'
Vinegar esteemed very efficacious in preventing the communica
is

tion of the plague and other contagious distempers.' MALONE.

CXII. 5. All the world Q.

10. Adder's, Adders Q.
8, 11, 12. . . .
wrong: . . . are: .
dispense
. . In Q. .

wrong, . . . are : . . .
dispence. Excepting the change of punctua
'
tion ( for .) after dispense/ I take the Quarto reading. The of .

Q. does not necessarily close the sense grammatically, but, if the

text be not corrupt, it indicates an emphatic pause, begetting expecta
tion. This is indicated, also, by the opening of 1. 12 'Mark how.'
But the text of 11. 13, 14, in Q. :

'
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides me thinkes y' are dead
'
:

has been generally considered corrupt. And the first step in emen
dation, by Malone (1780, Capell MS. and Steevens conj.)
taken
was, 1. 14, to alter 'me thinks' into 'methinks' 'That all the
world besides methinks. .' That
being done it follows that: (1) . .

* ' '
besidesmust now refer back to ' you in 1. 13 ; (2) the rest of the
line, 'y'are dead,' must give the proposition of which 'All the world
besides' is the subject. Malone and subsequent Editors (save Mr.
F. S. Ellis in the Kelmscott, who reproduces the Quarto reading with
out comment) have attacked the problem in this shape seeking to find :

e
in y' are dead,' or some emendation of those words, a proposition
which agrees in sense with the subject, 'All the world besides (you).'
Malone (1780) cuts the knot by omitting '/''That all the world
besides methinks are dead '= You are so strongly in my purpose bred
that every one else seems dead to me. accepts this The Cambridge
reading, although Malone himself rejected it (in 1790), and printed,
'That all the world besides methinks they are dead. Dyce (1857)
and Dowden accept this with an elision, 'methinks they're dead' :

'
Dowden explaining the Q. by saying, y' =th' =they.' To sum up :

If the first emendation, ' methinks' for 'me thinks,' be accepted,

then the second, in some form or other, must also be accepted
to make sense. But why was the first, which entails the second,
316 NOTES
made ? Not and make sense of a passage which, as
this is crucial to
non-sense; but, because the emendators reject the
printed in Q., is

sense which it bears, when so printed, as improbable. That sense is

even startling: Every one, except myself, thinks that
unexpected,
should have meant
you are dead. Is it impossible that Shakespeare
this ? If not impossible, the alterations in the text, unrewarded by

any signal addition to the meaning of the sonnet, can hardly be

defended. Now the couplet, as emended, adds nothing to the mean
f
ing :
merely repeats one half of the meaning of 1. 7, none else to
it

me . .alive.'. That, indeed, was the evident object of Malone's

emendation having rejected the sense of the couplet as it stood, he
:

altered it to suit the sense of the second quatrain. Shakespeare has

some weak couplets, but none which merely repeats or, as here, re
peats less completely an idea already completely set forth. And he
can scarce have echoed the second quatrain feebly after a third quat
(
rain intervening with a strong crescendo of emphasis In so profound
'

abysm I throwand a further, and more emphatic, appeal for

all care
'

my neglect I do dispense. He creates an

Mark how
f
attention with
expectation of some startling declaration. In Q. we get one. Not
' '

only is the Friend All the world to the Poet (1. 5) every one else
dead to the Poet and he dead to every one (1. 7) but, and he begs us
'
f
to mark how he dispenses with his neglect at the hands of the world,
'
the Friend is so in his purpose bred =so thoroughly kneaded into the
'

intention of his being, that he too shares the Poet's case him also the :

world holds for dead. The Sonnet is hyperbolical throughout, and its
crescendo movement prepares us for a last extravagance of hyperbole.
Is this,the straightforward meaning of Q., too startling ? I think not.
Shakespeare often uses hyperbole to enforce the closeness of the rela
tion between the Friend and himself. He declares that their identities
are merged in one, and, sometimes,
fantastic result from he draws a
this fanciful identification. In
lamenting the injury done
XLII., after
him by the Friend in robbing him of the woman he ' loved dearly,' he
'
writes, But here's the joy, my friend and I are one' and draws the ;
(
deduction, Sweet flattery, then she loves but me alone.' In cxxxni.,
written on the same theme, he calls the Friend his ' next self ; and
draws the deduction that any one who imprisons his own heart must
also, perforce, imprison the Friend's heart which is within it. In LXII.
he conceives his own beauty to be perfect until his
glass undeceives
him and, in the couplet, he resolves the error it arises from his
; :

Friend's identity with him :

"Tis thee (my self) that for myself I praise

Painting my age with beauty of thy days.'
 SONNETS 317
In all four Sonnets the movement of the quatrains leads up to a
climax in the couplet in all four, the sense of the couplet tallies with
:

the climax of its sound, giving a sudden and fantastic resolution of

accumulated difficulties.

CXIII. 3. part his function, perhaps = ' share his function with the
mind'; but more probably, depart, abandon. Cf. Richard II., in.
i. 3:
'
Since presently your souls must part your bodies.'

The distinction of sense and the similarity of sound doth part his f

'
function and partly blind
is are in Shakespeare's manner.
6. latch Malone, lack Q. He explains, ' to latch formerly signified
to lay hold of. So, in Macbeth :

"But I have words,

That should be howl'd out in the desert air,
Where hearing should not latch them."
'

' ' '

Latch in Old English meant a ' cross-bow ; also a l snare/ akin
'
perhaps to leash,' French laisse.
10. favour is countenance, Malone.
' '
14. My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue. Untrue is a
substantive. Cf. Measure for Measure, n. iv. 170 :

'Say what you can my false o'erweighs your true.'

mine = m' eyne = my

'
'
But there is also a phonetic suggestion of eyes.

CXIV. 2. In immediate sequence to the preceding

this flattery :

Sonnet, this flattery = this false presentment of other shapes in your

' '

'
more pleasing shape, as the truth is improved for a ' monarch's ear.
Alchemy, Alcumie Q. The sense of the passage is this
4. Or is :

my eye truthful, and has your love taught it to transmute, as base

metals are transmuted by Alchemists into gold.
'
10. most kingly: Reverting to the image of a monarch' and
1
flattery,' 1. 2.

11. Agreeing Gildon, greeing Q.

13, 14. If it be poison d, 'tis the lesser sin,

it and doth first
That mine eye loves begin :

The imagery changes a third time, and instances, after the Flatterer
and the Alchemist, the Taster to a King.

CXV. 5. million' d, milliond Q., Million Gildon : But Q. is right,

as we say 'doubled,' ' decupled,' centupled.'
'

'
9. Time's, times Q. .-Tyler has 'Time's' and the analogy to Time's
'
fool (Q.) in the next sonnet is obvious.
318 NOTES
10.
'
Now
1 love you best.' Printed as a quotation by Malone.
13, 14. Love is a Babe, then might 1 not say so,
To give full growth to that which still doth grow.
'
'
babe in modern editions, but the reference is, obviously, to Cupid
the God of Love.
14. grow. Q. and Tyler; grow? Gildon, Cambridge, Dowden,
Bell. The emendation defeats the sense of the whole Sonnet.
' f
The ictus or stress on '
not/ 1. 13 (cf. the ictus on then' and now'
in 1. 10) shows that the couplet refutes the argument of the third

quatrain: it is a contradiction, not a reiterated interrogative. The

'
Poet asks, ( Might I not then' in those early days, fearing time's
'

tyranny,' say Now I love you best ? And he answers

{
in the nega
'
tive : Love is a Babe ;
then might I not say so. . . .'

CXVI. Let me not to the marriage of true minds, etc. The index :

number of this Sonnet is printed f 119' in Q. for ( 116.'

Having opened his attack on Time (c. -cvm. ), explained his apparent
inconstancy (cix.-cxn.), and asserted his absorption in the Friend
'
(cxin.-cxiv.), in cxv. the Poet reverted to his main theme, Time's
'
tyranny,' 1. 10, and in this sonnet he develops it: Love's not Time's
fool,' 1. 9.

4. Or bends with the remover to remove ; cf. xxv. 13, 14 :

'
Then happy I that love, and am beloved,
Where I may not remove, nor be removed.'

5. mark = sea-mark. Cf. Coriolanus, v. iii. 74 :

'
Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw
And saving those that eye thee.'

7. It is the star to every wandering bark : The kindred image of a

star by which ships steer.
8. whose worth 's unknown A mystical assertion that, as the
:

unknown worth and occult influence of a star is in excess of the

practical service it affords to
mariners, so has Love an eternal value
immeasurably superior to the accidents of Time. S. Walker suggested
1
North 's,' which does not add to the sense and
destroys the alliterated
'
stresses on Wandering worth.' Cf. Drayton, Idea, (1619),
. . .

Sonnet XLIII., which first appears in that edition :

'
So doth the ploughman gaze the wandering star,
And only rest contented with the light ;

That never learned what constellations are,

Beyond the bent of his unknowing sight.
 SONNETS 319
CXVII. Accuse me thus, etc.: The poet takes up again his ex
tenuation of apparent inconstancy.
5. been, binne Q.

6. And given to Time, time Q.:

'
To society, to the world, or, given
away to temporary occasion what your property, and therefore an
is

heirloom for Eternity.' DOWDEN. 'Given to them,' Staunton conj.

But ' Time' is the personified object of the whole argument (c.-cxxv.),
and appears as such in the two preceding Sonnets ( Time's tyranny,' :

(
Love's not Time's fool.' When the peroration is reached (cxxui. 1)
the Poet apostrophises this personal object of his attack, and arraigns
' ' '
him :
No, Time thou shalt not boast. .' Cf. the fools of Time . .

(cxxiv. 13). The

Sonnets must be read in the light of contemporary
verse. E.g. Drayton (Idea, LV., 1619), writes:
'
With so pure love as Time could never boast.
'

The major theme of the whole First Series is the defeat of Time, by
Breed, by Fame, and by Love. Cf. v. 5 :

'For never-resting Time leads summer on.'

xii. 13.
'
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him. .' . .

xv. 13. 'And all in war with Time for love of you.'

xvi. 2. 'Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time.'

xix. 13, 14. 'Yet do thy worst, old Time despite thy wrong. :

My love shall in rny verse ever live young.'

LX. 9. 'Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth.'

LXIV. 1, 12.
'
When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced . . .

That Time will come and take my love away.'

And this major theme the defeat of Time is restated in the last
movement, as in a symphony, with greater emphasis :

c. 10-13.
'
If Time have any wrinkle graven there,
a Satire to decay,
If any, be
And make Time's spoils despised every where.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life.'
'
cvm. 13. Finding the first conceit of love there bred
Where Time and outward form would show it dead.'

cxxui. 1, 14.
'
No Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change
!
. .

I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee.'

subject to Time's love or to Time's hate

'
cxxiv. 3, 13. As . .

To this I witness call the fools of Time.

320 NOTES
Let me illustrate the contemporary vogue of these attacks on Time,
once more, from an address to Guillim by John Davies of Hereford:
'
Thy matchlesse Art,
Incites my Muse to raise her Armes of poiver,
With princes to lay open thy desert,
To make it all-devouring Time devour e.'

That I have hoisted sail to all the winds

7. Cf. the image of a :

'
c
wandering bark which, in the preceding Sonnet, immediately pre
'
'
cedes the reflexion, Love 's not Time's fool.
Bring me within the level of your frown,
11.
But shoot not at me.
'
Level' = effective range, here; elsewhere, gener ally = aim. Cf. A
Lovers Complaint, 22, 23 :

'
Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride,
As they did battery to the spheres above.'

'
Malone quotes from Winters Tale (n. iii. 6) Out of the blank and :

level of my aim where c

blank = the
'
white
: centre of an archer's
'

'
target, whence point-blank.'

CXVIII. Like as, to make our appetites more keen, etc. This Sonnet, :

developing the sense of the last couplet, continues the apology for
apparent inconstancy.
12. rank of goodness: Dowden cites 2 King Henry IV., iv. i. 64:
'
To diet rank minds sick of happiness,
And purge the obstructions which begin to stop
Our very veins of life.'

CXIX. What potions have I drunk, etc. The apology continues.

:

1. Siren, Syren Q. See Note V. on Typography of the Quarto,

and Note II. on Lucrece.
2. Limbecks, Lymbecks Q. = alembics.
7.
spheres Spheares Q. ; fitted :' how have my eyes started from
their hollows in the fever-Jits of
my disease' (Dowden), who cites
Hamlet, i. v. 17 :

'Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres.'
But ' Fit sometimes = a sudden emission.
'

Cf. Coleridge :

'A tongue of light, &fit of flame.'

CXX. 4. nerves, Nerves Q.

6. time, Time Q.
10, 12. rememb'red . . . tendered : A defective rhyme. Cf. LX
1, 3: 'open . . . broken.'
 SONNETS 321
10. rememb'red= f reminded, an verb governing sense in active
1. 11.' DOWDEN. I agree; and, that being so, 'our night of woe'
clearly refers to some one occasion of great sorrow, well-known to the
' '
Friend and to the Poet, which the Friend ' once caused by his crime,'
'

(1. 8), but for

which he ' soon tendered the fitting salve.
13. But that, your trespass, But that your trespass Q. and modern
'
Editions. I place a comma after
'
that to show that it is a demon
strative pronoun, referring back to 'your crime,' and forward to
'
'
your trespass. The rhythm, apart from the sense, shows that it is
not a conjunction, for, unless it be stressed, the line collapses.

CXXI. 2. When not to be = when not to be vile. I retain the comma

of Q. which makes this clear.
3, 4. And the lawful pleasure lost, which is judged vile from the
point of view of others and not from any sense of shame on our part.
7. frailer spies Cf. cxxv. 13, 'Hence, thou suborn'd Informer.'
:

8. in their wills = according to their wishes.

9. level =aim. Cf. Note on cxvu. 11.
11. bevel= 'Crooked ; a term used only, I believe, by masons and
f
joiners.' STEEVENS. The sense is rather oblique' than 'crooked.'

CXXII. 1. thy tables = a book of tables, note-book, memorandum.

Bacon, New Atlantis

'
Cf. he drew forth a little scroll of parchment
:

(somewhat yellower than our parchment, and shining like the leaves
of writing tables, but otherwise soft and flexible).'
2. Full character d with lasting memory = Filled up with the notes

of lasting memory. Cf. Hamlet, i. v. 97-103 :

4
Remember thee !

Yea, from the table of my 'memory

I '11 wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there ;

And thy commandments all alone shall live

Within the book and volume of my brain.'

'
And these few precepts in thy memory
See thou character. . .' Hamlet, i. iii. 57.
.

8, 9, 10. record poor retention

. . tallies
. score Cf. . . . . . . :

the attack on Time's dates, records and registers in the next sonnet.
13. adjunct: Sir Henry Wotton uses this word of a colleague
' '
with the sense of an assistant :

'An adjunct of singular experience and trust.'

X
322 NOTES
CXXIII. 1. No! Time, thou shall not boast See Note on cxvu. 6. :

This apostrophe opens the peroration to the poet's attack on Time.

See Introduction,, p. cxxvii.-cxxx.
4. They are but dressings of a former sight : but repetitions of
'
'
antenatal experience. See Introduction. sight : in Q. The apo
strophe is sustained throughout
the sonnet.
7. borne Q. That is, bourne or limit.
:

'

8. told = reckoned. '

told : in Q.
9-12. The Poet here denies the reality of Time and of his effects.

CXXIV. 1. state = accident ;

an effect of Time. See Introduction.
2. might for Fortune's bastard be unfatherd, i.e. It might be dis
It

inherited in favour of any other effect of Time and Chance.

3. Times . . .
Time's, times . . . times in Q. But the personi
fication is obvious.
5. accident: A term of metaphysics. Cf. 1. 1, ' state.'
9. Heretic, Heriticke Q. See Note V. on Typography of the
Quarto 1609, and Note II. on Lucrece.
13. the fools of Time, time Q. But the personification is sustained.
'
Cf. cxvi. 9, Love's not Time's fool.'

14. Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime Who are so :

much the dupes of Time that they attach importance to the mere
order of sequence in which events occur, and believe that a death
bed repentance can cancel a life of crime.

CXXV. Were't aught to me, etc.: This Sonnet is obscure. See

Introduction, pp. cxxx.-cxxxii., and Note IV. on Rival Poets.
1. / bore the canopy : A metaphor leading up to the next line. The
'
word canopy' may contain an allusion to some one of the many
allegories current among the cultivated court circle of that day.
Contemporary letters offer examples of such allusions to allegories, to
anecdotes from the ancients, to heraldic conceits, and to Platonic
catch-words, which are no less obscure than the like allusions in
Shakespeare's verse. In a letter from Francis Beaumont to Anne
f
Fytton, Mary's sister, you read In which conceite of myne (if I
:

did amisse for dutiful love ever full of fearfull care) your owne
is

preatie stoarie of the Canopy, and myne of Timantes for covering

affectiones wth curtaines may be my all sufficient warrant.'
(Gossip
from a Muniment Room, London, 1897.)
2. With my extern the outward That is, honouring
honouring :

outward beauty with public praise (cf. LXIX. 5) ; but, as I hold, with
a larger philosophic suggestion, in the manner of the and in time,
pursuance of the argument in the two preceding Sonnets, viz. that
 SONNETS 323
the Poet's love is esoteric and eternal. Cf. Chapman's Peritteros, or
the Male Turtle (1601):
'
Nought lasts that doth to outward worth contend
All love in smooth brows born is tomb'd in wrinkles. . . .

And Time and Change (that all things else devours

But truth eternized in a constant heart).'

See Note IV. on Rival Poets.

3, 4. Or laid great bases for eternity
Which proves more short than waste or ruining ?
Proves Q., Tyler; Prove Dowden, Cambridge. In an obscure sonnet
to preserve the Q. text so long as it yields sense. The sense
it is safest
'
here seems to be or ostentatiously claimed an eternity for my
:

panegyrics, which eternity proves short-lived as "waste or ruining.'"

Cf. Drayton's proud claim, Idea, XLIV. (1619, first published in
1599) :

'Ensuing Ages yet my Rhymes shall cherish. . . .'

his contempt of other versifiers, Idea, XLIII. (1619, first published in

that year) :

'

Why should your fair eyes, with such sovereign grace

Disperse their rays on every vulgar spirit . . .

Would God I were as ignorant as they

! !

When I am made unhappy by my skill !

'

5-7. Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour

Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent
For compound sweet ; foregoing simple savour,
I preserve the
punctuation of Q., emphasised, as it is, by a capital after
the semicolon ' sweet; Forgiving.' Modern Editions give '. rent, . .

. . sweet foregoing.
. .' But the ' dwellers on form and favour' are
. .

'
eternizers,' with their 'extern the outward honouring' to secure
' '

eternity by their public panegyrics of outward beauty. Cf. LXXXV.

f '
8 : In polished form of well-refined pen. The ' compound sweet '

for which they pay too much rent is, I submit, their
'couplemeut
of proud compare,' xxi. ; their 'false painting,' LXVII. ; 'false art,'
LXVIII. ; 'strained touches,' LXXXII. ; 'comments of praise
richly
compiled . .
golden quill' and 'well-refined pen,' LXXXV. such
.

merits, for example, as Drayton gloried in. For these laboured

tributes to outward beauty they forego the 'simple savour,' i.e. the
'
simple appreciation of true affection, and are pitiful thrivers, in their
gazing spent.'
9, 10. No, letme be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free.
324 NOTES
1
Cf. LIV. (1619) :
Drayton's Idea,
Receive the incense which I offer here,
'

By my strong faith ascending to thy fame !

My zeal, my hope, my
vows, my praise, my prayer,
soul's oblations to thy sacred Name
'

My !

' '
Our Poet pays in the Friend's heart/ an oblation which is poor/
i.e.not 'precious' and 'refined' and 'filed' ; and which is 'free/ i.e.
voluntarily offered with no ulterior design on eternal Fame for the
author.
11. Which is not mix'd with seconds : See Introduction, p. cxxxii.
Seconds, 1 submit = assistants/ colleagues,' or, at least, other poets
' '

similarly engaged in conquering 'Eternity' by laboured 'Petrarchizing.'

Our Poet goes on to say that his ' oblation . . knows no art, But .

mutual render, only me for thee.' Cf. xxxn. :

'
O, then vouchsafe me
but this loving thought ;
"Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,
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."

13. 'Hence thou suborn d Informer' Q. See Introduction, :

p.
cxxxii., and Note V. on Typography of the Quarto 1609.
The Poet's attitude towards other writers, expressed here and
elsewhere, is rendered intelligible by the knowledge that there did
'
exist a fraternity of poets who affected '
learning and art/ and who
'

praised each other for their merits, whilst they poured contempt on
the 'unlearned' and 'artless.'

CXXVI. This is not a Sonnet but an Envoy to the First Series

written in six couplets. In Q. two sets of parentheses follow 1. 12,
as if to indicate that two lines are
wanting.
2. Dost hold Time's fickle '
glass, his sickle, hour ; in Q. Doest
hould times fickle glass, his sickle, hower.' emendations
Many
have been suggested -.tickle hour, Kinnear Lin-
; conj .
fickle hower,
tott; sickle-hour, Hudson 1881 Walker conj.); fickle mower,
(S.
Bullock conj. ; fickle hour, Kinnear conj. The Cambridge has a note
(v.):'Capell in his copy of Lintott's edition has corrected "hower" to
"hoar," leaving "fickle." Doubtless he intended to read "sickle
hoar.'" But 'hower/ rhyming with
'power,' can scarce be a mis
print for 'hoar.'

1
This sonnet occurs in the earlier editions.
 SONNETS 325
12. Quietus The technical term for an acquittance given to an
:

accountant, or official charged with the administration of funds ; from

the phrase quietus est in such documents. Thus : ' Th accompt of
John Tayler and John Shakspeyr/ the poet's father
'
Chamburlens,
made the x'* day of January/ 1564, is thus acquitted :
" Et sic

quieti sunt, Johannes Tayler et Johannes Shakspeyr."' HALLIWELL-

PHILLIPPS, Outlines, u. 224.

CXXVII. In the old age black was not counted fair, etc. This Sonnet :

opens the Second Series, where the poet addresses his mistress, or
comments on the wrong she has done him. Most of the numbers
were evidently written at the same time as the numbers of Group C.
(XXXIII.-XLII.), and on the same theme.
2. were, weare Q.

4. Beauty in Q. See Note V. on Typography of the Quarto 1609.

7. Beauty, beauty Q. bower, boure Q. ;

9. Mistress' eyes . . .
raven, Mistersse eyes . . . Raven Q.
9, 10. eyes
. . . . . .
eyes :
Many emendations have been sug
gested: . . .
eyes . . .
hairs, Capell MS. ; hairs . . .
eyes, Hudson
1881 (S. Walker and Delius conj.); brows . . .
eyes, Editors Globe ed.

(Staunton and Brae conj.); eyes. . .

brows, Staunton conj.; hairs . . .

'
brows, Kinnear conj. But no emendation is necessary. Her eyes so
' ' '
suited makes an additional proposition about the eyes which leads
up to 'and they mourners seem/ Cf. Hamlet, i. ii. 78, 'customary
f
suits of solemn black,' and Ibid., 86, the trappings and the suits of
woe.'
11. At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack That is, such who :

supply the defects of Nature with Art. The theme of this sonnet is
handled by Biron in Love's Labour 's Lost, iv. iii. , e.g. :

in black my lady's brow be deck'd,

'

O, if

mourns that painting and usurping hair

It
Should ravish doters with a false aspect ;
And therefore is she born to make black fair.'

Tyler compares, also, Sidney's Astrophel and Stella, Sonnet vu. :

'
That, whereas blacke seemes beautie's contrary,
She even in blacke doth make all beauties flow.'

CXXVIII. 5. envy, en vie Q., accented on the second syllable. Cf.

Ben Jonson, Poetaster, Prologue :

'
Their moods he rather pities than envies.'

'
This is an example of a licence then permitted, viz. the wrong ranging
326 NOTES
the accent of a sillable. ... as to say. . . . endure for endufe.'-
Arte of Poesie, 1589.
5. jacks, lacks Q.

CXXIX. 1. Spirit in Q. : See Note V. on the Typography of the

Quarto 1609.
ancients that
Tyler cites: 'It hath been observed by the
1, 2.
much use of Venus doth dim the sight the cause of dimness of . . .

sight ... is the expense of spirits.' BACON, Nat. Hist. (Ed. Spedding,
ii. 555, 556).
9. Mad, made Q. ; pursuit, pursut Q.

11. A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe, A blisse in proof and
proud and very wo Q. : 'The Quarto is here evidently corrupt'
{ '
MALONE. But the corruption
not very extensive proud stands is :

' ' ' '

naturally for proved

'
u for ' v and, as frequently,
with, as always,
'
no apostrophe to mark the omission of a mute ' e e.g. proposd in the
next line.
'
A' may well have been mistaken for the symbol of c and/

CXXX. Mistress . . . Sun . . . Roses . . . Music. See Note V.

on the Typography of the Quarto 1609, and Note III. on Lucrece.
2. Coral, Currall Q.

CXXXI. 1. so as thou art : That is, as described in the preceding

Sonnets.
4. jewel, lewell Q.
5. Yet in good faith some say that thee behold Q. :
Generally punctu
' ' '

ated, Yet, in good faith. But this suggests that ' in good faith
may be an expletive of the author, whereas, of course, it is his tribute
to the good faith of his mistress's detractors. He goes on, To say they *

err, I dare not be so bold.'

CXXXII. 2. torments, Ed. 1640, which is obviously right. Q. has

'torment.'
5. Sun of Heaven I preserve the capitals of Q. throughout this
:

Sonnet. See Note V. on Typography of the Quarto 1609, and Note

III. on Lucrece.
6. the East, th' East Q.
9.mourning eyes : There is a play on the word, referring back to
f '

morning sun of 1. 5.

CXXXIII. 6. my next self: That is, the Friend.

8. A
torment thrice threefold thus to be crossed: Cf. XLII., written
at the same time on the same theme :
 SONNETS 327
'
If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,
And losing her, my friend hath found that loss ;

Both find each other, and I lose both twain,

And both for my sake lay on me this cross.'

9-14 .-Prison heart in your bosom ; but then let my heart

my
be bail for and, so liberate, my Friend's heart. Whoever keeps me,
let me keep him ; then, you cannot use
rigour to him since he
will be in my gaol = my heart. And yet you will; for, since I am
imprisoned in you, I am in your power, and consequently my Friend
he is imprisoned in me.
also, since

CXXXIV. 1. he is thine: Because in the preceding Sonnet 'I,

'

being pent in thee, Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.

2. And I myself am mortgaged Because (Ibid.) I am ready to go
:

bail for my friend.

3. that othermine: The Friend, in pursuance of the theme of
'
identity. Cf. next self (Ibid.).
my
7. He learn'd but surety-like, to write for me This suggests that :

the Friend came under the fascination of the poet's mistress in

discharging some office of kindness or civility to her on the poet's
behalf. Cf. 1. 11: 'And sue a friend came '= that became ' debtor
for my sake.'
9. The statute: 'Statute has here its legal signification, that of a

security or obligation for money.' MAI.ONE.

12. unkind abuse = abuse of his good-nature, which has turned out
ill for him. The metaphor of this, and other sonnets, is reminiscent
of the straits to which the poet's father reduced himself and his friends
who went surety for him to the baker. See Introduction, p. xx.

CXXXV. The capitals and italics of Q. are retained throughout this

sonnet.
will '= desire and 'Will,' which we learn,
'
1. Will, a play on
from this and other numbers, to have been the name of both the
Poet and his Friend.
2. And Will too, boote, and Will in over-plus, Q. Some find
e
in this line a suggestion of three persons with the name of Will,'
and conjecture that the Dark Lady had a husband with that name.
' '
But this interpretation is not needed. Will in 1. 1 stands for desire
and the name of the Friend 1. 2 adds the name of the Poet, and
;

then states that this addition is also an excess. It must, however, be

mentioned that the Fytton letters, published by Lady Newdigate-
Newdegate (Gossip from a Muniment Room, 1897), show that Sir
William Knollys, to whose charge Mary Fytton was entrusted by
328 NOTES
her father, fell in love with her before, and continued in love with
her after, she became Will Herbert's mistress. The chief difficulty
in accepting Mr. Tyler's identification of Mary Fytton with Shake

speare's Dark Lady lies in the

late date 1G07 of Mary Fytton's
'
'
marriage. For, if the words of CLII. 3 In act thy bed-vow broke
indicate that the Dark Lady was married, the identification of the
two would necessitate a date later than 1607 for the composition of
that Sonnet and Group C. (XXXII.-XLII.).
'
4-8.
e
Will is used for desire throughout, now of the Dark Lady,
and, again, of the Poet.
'
5-7. . . .
spatious . . .
gracious, another example of wrong
ranging the accent of a sillable,' which, it so happens, is given in the
'
Arte ofPoesie : as to say gratious for gratious.'
. . .

f
13. Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill: But perhaps the line
f
ought to be printed thus: "Let no unkind No' fair beseechers
"let no unkind refusal kill fair beseechers.'" DOWDEN.
kill," i.e.
But the rhythm, clearly indicated by a comma after e no' in Q., would
be shattered by this emendation. Kill, skill (Rossetti conj.). Tyler,
commenting on this and the ensuing Sonnet, cites a similar play on
(
Will' = desire, and ( Will' = William, in the dedication by John
Davies, in his Select Second Husband for Sir Thomas Overburys Wife,
now a Matchless Widow (1606), curiously enough, to f William, Earle
of Pembroke.' He cites also Davies' epigram addressed to Shake
speare :

'
Some say, good Will (which I, in sport, do sing),
Hadst thou not plaid some kingly parts in sport. . . .'

CXXXVI. 8. Among a number one is reckon' d none : A contention

put forward by arithmeticians in Shakespeare's day. See Note on
e
VIII. 14 : Thou single wilt prove none.'

CXXXVII. 4. Yet what the best is, take the worst to be : That is,
take the worst = your appearance, to be what the best is. The pre
(
ceding line, They know what beauty is, see where it lies,' suggests
the Friend in whom the poet recognised the
Type of Ideal Beauty.
But this recognition could not preserve him from
loving a woman
whom he compares to ' the bay where all men ride ' (1. 6), to e the
wide world's common place (1. 10), and to a ' false ' '

plague (1. 14).

9, 10. ... several plot common place
. . Dowden cites from
. :

'
Halliwell Fields that were enclosed were called
severals, in opposi
:

tion to commons, the former

belonging to individuals, the others to
the inhabitants generally.'
 SONNETS 329
13, 14. In things right true
my and eyes have erred heart
And to this false plague are they now transferred :

The Poet contrasts his f erring' from constancy to the Friend with
his infatuation for the Dark Lady. Cf. xxxvi. 10, written at the
same time :

'
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame. . . .'

CXXXVIII. 12. to have years told, t' have yeares told Q. Told =
reckoned. This Sonnet is the first numher of The Passionate Pi/grim
(1599) with certain variations :

4. 'Unskilful in the world's false forgeries.'

'
8-14. 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 ?
O, love's best habit is a soothing tongue,
And age, in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I '11 lie with love, and love with me,
Since that our faults in love thus smother'd be.'
'

These variations, with the unlikely repetition of ' tongue as a rhyme

in the third quatrain, after it had served in the second, confirm the
view that Shakespeare's numbers in The Passionate Pilgrim were pirated,
perhaps from recollection only.

CXL. 4. pity-wanting : Hyphened by Gildon.

7. sick-men. : I retain the hyphen of Q., as it is needed by the
rhythm.
11. ill-wresting :
Hyphened by Lintott.
12. madslanderers by mad ears believed be : The line may hold a
reference to the Poet's own case. Cf. cxii. :

'
Your love and pity doth th' impression fill,

Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow.'

'
'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed,
When not to be, receives reproach of being.' cxxi.

CXLI. 9. my Jive wits : "The wits" Dr. Johnson observes, "seem

(

to have been reckoned 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." From Stephen Hawes' poem called Graunde
Amour and La Bell Pucel, 1554, ch. 24, it appears that the five wits
were "common wit, imagination, fantasy, estimation, and memory.'"
MALONE.
my five senses : These the Poet has described, 11. 1-8. Cf.
330 NOTES
Chapman's Ovid's Banquet of Sense, in which he deals with eAuditus,
olfactus, visus, gustus, tactus,'
and Drayton's Idea, xxix. (1619), where
the same theme handled (published first in 1599).
is

11. Who unsway'd the likeness of a man: I agree with

leaves
'
Tyler in understanding the passage to mean My five wits and :

five senses cannot dissuade my heart, that is but one against ten, from

serving thee. And my heart, which they cannot dissuade, leaves

them unswayd.' The f likeness of a man '= the five wits and five
senses. r
' '
14.
pain In its: first meaning of penalty, punishment (French
peine, Latin pwna).

CXLII. 2. Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving That is, hate :

of my sin,grounded on your sinful love of others. You hate my love,

not because it is sinful, but because you love, sinfully, elsewhere. This
is evident from the remainder of the Sonnet, where the Poet argues that

his state does not merit reproof from lips which have f seal'd false
'
bonds of love as oft as his own, and asks, ( Be it lawful I love thee
'
as thou lov'st those.
7. And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine Cf. Measure for :

Measure, iv. i. 6 :

Take, O take those lips away,

'

That so sweetly were forstoorn. . . .

But my kisses bring again, bring again ;

Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.'

8. others' beds' revenues, others beds revenues Q., bed-revenues

Capell MS.
11, 12. ... pity . pity, (1) . . =
compassion; (2)= ground or sub
ject for compassion. Cf. Othello, iv. i. 206, f But the
pity of it, lago.'
13. If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide : That is, if you
seek love from another, which you withhold from me. This Sonnet is
the last of four written in an unbroken chain the sense and even the
phrasing of the concluding lines in each taken in the being up opening
lines of the next.

CXLIII. Lo, as a careful housewife, etc. This Sonnet, also, belongs :

to the unbroken chain of the preceding four. It

opens with an illus
tration in 11. 1-8, and its But the
application 11. 9-12. does couplet
but restate the sense of CXLII. 11-14.
13. Witt= the Friend.

CXLIV. Two loves I have, etc.: This Sonnet

appears with certain
variations in The Passionate
Pilgrim (1599), viz. 1. 2, 'that like' for
 SONNETS 331
' ' f
which like ; 11. 3, 4, My better ... My worser,' for
'
The better
. . . the worser'; 1.
evidently the correct reading for
6, 'side'
<
sight' Q.; 1. 8, 'fair' for 'fowle'; 1. 9, 'feend' for 'finde'; 1. 11,
me ' for
' '
'to
'
from me ; 1. 13, f the truth I shall not for ' yet this
shal I nere.'
The 1640 Sonnets prints The Passionate Pilgrim version. Fleay,
Dowden, and others compare Drayton's Idea, xx. (first published as
xxii. in 1599) :

'
An evil Spirit(your Beauty) haunts me still
Wherewith, have been long possest ;
alas, I
Which ceaseth not to attempt me to each ill. . . .

Thus am provoked to every evil,

I still

By this good-wicked Spirit, sweet Angel-Devil.'

The but of phrasing, for Drayton refers only to one

likeness is

person, and I believe, the Second Series was written at the same
if, as
time as Group C. (xxxni.-xui.) perhaps in 1598 or the early part of
1599 Drayton's sonnet seems just such a superficial plagiarism as are
his later sonnets, published first in 1619, of Shakespeare's numbers in
the later Groups. See Note IV. on the Rival Poets, and Note on
Shakespeare's cxvi. 5-8.
2. suggest tempt.
= Cf. Note on Lucrece, 1. 37.
6. side P.P., sight Q.
' '

9. fiend, finde Q. The e has evidently been misplaced.

CXLV. This Sonnet is in octosyllabic verse, with an unpleasing

assonance between the rhyme-sounds of the first quatrain, and but little
in it that recalls Shakespeare's hand save :

'
That f ollow'd it as gentle day
Doth follow night. .' . .

doom, dome Q., doome edition 1640.

7.
/
13. threw, 'I hate away from hate she
. . . flew,' Steevens
conj. But the sense is better in the Q. reading.

CXLVI. 2. My sinful earth these rebel powers array. This is

Massey's
emendation of an obviously corrupt passage in Q. :

*
Poor soule the center of my sinf ull earth,

My sinf ull earth these rebell powres that thee array.'

It has the merit of adding nothing to the text, and of restoring

euphony to one of the finest among Shakespeare's Sonnets. There
332 NOTES
is warrant for repeating the last words of a preceding line. E.g. in
GZLII. 1, 2 :

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,

'

Hate of my sin. .' . .

in xc. 1, 2 :

'
Then hate me when thou wilt ;
if ever, now ;

Now, while the world. .' . .

In Venus and Adonis, 963-4 :

'
Both crystals, where they view'd each other's sorrow,
Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry. .' . .

So, too, for the parenthetical development in the second line of a

term used in the first, e.g. cxi. :

'
O, formy sake do you with Fortune chide,
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
That did not better. .' . .

and cxv. :

'
Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer.'

Many other emendations have been suggested : Footd by those

rebel, Malone. Starv'd by the rebel, Steevens. Fool'd by these rebel,

Dyce. Thrall to these rebel, Anon. Press'd by, Dowden. Foil'd by,
Palgrave. Hemm'd with, Furnivall. sense these rebel, Bullock. My
Slave of these, Cartwright. Leagud with these rebel, A. E. Brae, adopted
(
by Dr. Ingleby in the Soul arayed/ p. 15. Why Feed'st, Tyler.
' " "
array :
Array here does not only mean dress. I think it also
signifies that in the flesh these rebel powers set their battle in array
against the soul/ MASSEY. Dowden adds, f There is no doubt the
word "aray" or f( array" was used in this sense by Elizabethan
writers, and Shakspere, in The Taming of the Shrew, in. ii. and iv. i. ,
uses "raied," though nowhere "aray," except perhaps here in this or
a kindred sense.' There may well, as so often in the Sonnets, be
double meaning in the word. Array = (1) beleaguer, afflict = (2) adorn.
Dowden also cites Lucrece, 11. 722-728, and notes the close juxta
position of siege and livery in Sonnet n. An association of the ideas
' ' ( '
of a siege and of outward embellishment does, certainly, seem
suggested. And the next two lines :

'

"Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,

'
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay ?
recall Macbeth :

'

Hang out our banners on the outward walls.''

 SONNETS 333
8. ... charge ? . . . end ? Q. : a good example of careful punctua
tion in Q.
10. aggravate = increase, pile up; thy Q., my Lintott. 'Malone
says that the original copy and all the subsequent impressions read
"my" instead of "thy." The copies of the 1609 Edition in the
Bodleian one of which belonged to Malone himself in the Bridge-
water Library, and in the Capell Collection, as well as Steeveiis'
reprint, have "thy."' Cambridge, Note x.
13, 14. ... Death Death, death death Q.
. . . . . .

CXLVII. I retain the capitals of Q. See Note V. on the Typo

graphy of the Quarto 1609, and Note III. on Lucrece.
7, 8. and 1 desperate now approve
Desire is death, which Physic did except.
Q. has a comma '
approve,' but this raises no grammatical pre
after

sumption. (See Note V. on the Typography of the Quarto 1609.) The

(
sense is :
I, being in despair, now recognise that desire to be fatal
'
which took exception to the teaching of Physic.
'
9. Past cure 1 am, now Reason is past care : So in Love's Labour 's
Lost, v. ii. 28 :

"Great reason ; for past cure is still past care."

like Fast bind, fast find ; A proverb never

' '
It was a proverbial saying
'
stale in thrifty mind' (Merchant of Venice, u. v. 54). See Holland's
''
Leaguer, a pamphlet published in 1632 She has got this adage in :

'
her mouth ; Things past cure, past care." MALONE.

CXLVIII. 1. me! Q. has the note of exclamation. Love, love Q.

8, 9. Love's eye is not so true as all men's : no,
How can it ? 0, how can Loves eye be true.
This exquisite piece of punctuation in Q. (see Note V. on Typography
of the Quarto 1609) has been frequently destroyed by emendation :

all men's: no. S. Walker conj., all men's 'No,' Editors Globe ed.

(Lettsom conj.), taking eye as a pun on 'Ay.' Any change in the Q.

punctuation destroys the rhetorical force of the two heavy stresses, the '
'
second heavier than the first, on . . . can . . . can in 1. 9.

'
CXLIX. 2. partake, pertake Q. : I.e. take part with thee against
myself.' STBEVENS. '
A partaker was in Shakespeare's time the term
for an associate or confederate in any business.' MALONE. Dowden
f
cites your partaker, Pole,' i.e. partisan, 1 Henry VL, n. iv. 100. The
(
Guide into Tongues (1617), gives :
Partaker, vide Partner.'
334 NOTES
g 4 when 1 forgot
Am of myself, all tyrant for thy sake ?
I retain the punctuation of Q. Malone put ' all tyrant, for thy sake ?
That is, for the sake of thee, thou tyrant.' Dowden also refers all
tyrant, as an apostrophe,
to the Dark Lady. But the Q. reading is,
'
almost certainly, correct ; and the plain sense is I forget myself, a :

sake.'
tyrant to myself for your
10. That is so proud thy service to despise : That is, what merit of
mine is so as to despise the state of slavery to you.
proud
13, 14. A
conceit on the Poet's blindness, due to his love, which
furnished matter for a conceit in the couplet to the preceding sonnet.
The next number continues to work on the same theme, proving
that the three numbers were written at one time.

CL. Cf. 1. 2 with 11. 11 and 12 of CXLIX., 1. 3 with 11. 1 and 2 of

CXLVHI.
'

CLI. A piece of amatorious argument : the reference to

'
conscience
in 11. 1, 2, 13 suggests that it was written in reply to an appeal, pro

bably playful, addressed to the Poet's conscience. That appeal, if

made, and whether playful or serious, was in any case not seriously
entertained.
6. gross, grose Q.
10. prize :
proud, prize, proud Q.

CLII. In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, etc. A similar piece :

of playful debate. L. 11, And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blind

ness, connects this Sonnet closely with CXLVII., CXLVIII., CXLIX., CL.,
in which continuous discourse is resumed between the Poet and
his mistress after the break, indicated by CXLIV., where the Poet
comments, in suspense, on the infidelity of his mistress with his
Friend ; CXLV. , in octosyllabic verse, and CXLVI. , with its grave
appeal to his soul. Before the break, the Poet doubts whether his
Mistress have not altogether abandoned him ; after the break, it is clear
that she has again taken him into her favour CXLIX. ' Canst thou, : O
' '
Cruel !
say 1 love thee not ; CLI. Then, gentle cheater, urge not my
'
amiss'; and here, 1. 2, But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swear
ing.' This reference to a double infidelity 1. 3, ' In act thy bed-vow
broke and new faith torn,' and 1. 5, 'But why of two oaths' breach do I
'
accuse thee shows that the Dark Lady, who had broken her bed-
vow, soon also broke off her 'new faith' with the Friend. The
numbers of the Second Series were written at the same time as Group
C. (XXXIII.-XLII.), and on the same theme. That
Group is but episodical
 SONNETS 335
in the First Series and if, as I have suggested (Note on cxx. 9) ' O nl
:

that our night of woe might have remembred,' i.e. reminded 'my
deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,' refers back to some one
occasion of sorrow on which the Friend 'soon tendered the . . .

humble salve/ then it seems probable, from the tenor of the two
main discourses of the Second Series, that the Friend, after an explana
tion from the Poet, so acted as to lead the Dark Lady to break oif her
' '
new faith and to enter on a reintegratio amoris with the customary
argument that it was her lover, and not she, who had been remiss in
love :

'Canst thou, O Cruel, say I love thee not?'

The Second two are but

Series ends with this Sonnet, for the next
exercises on a Renaissance convention. It is important, let me repeat,
to remember that the numbers of this Series rank chronologically with
the numbers XXXIII.-XLII., and that, like them, they are early as well
as episodical, and in the main playful, with but little, by comparison
to the later groups, of grave speculation and ethereal beauty. The
Poet's love for the Dark Lady may have been well over some three
' '

years before he took up his pen to write a Satire to Decay (c.-cxxv.).

11. And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness That is, to shed a :

more favourable light on thee, I shut my eyes.

13. perjured I, periured eye Q. This may be correct, with a play
'
on the two words '
... I ... eye,' since it follows on 1. 12 made
them (=eyes) swear against the thing they see.'

e
CLIII. This and the following sonnet are composed of the very same
thoughts differently versified. They seem to have been early essays
of the poet, who perhaps had not determined which he should prefer.'
MALONE. Dowden and Tyler note that Herr Hertzberg (Juhrbuch
der Deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft, 1878, pp. 158-162) has tracked
'
the conceit developed in these two sonnets to a poem in the Antho
logy by Marianus, written, as he thinks likely, in the fifth century
after Christ The Epigram is ix. 627 of the Palatine Anthology'
(Tyler).
6. Dateless = eternal.
'
Cf. xxx. 6, death's dateless night.'
'
11. bath Query, whether we should read Bath (i.e. the city of
:

'
that name). The following words seem to authorize it. STEEVBNS.
14. eyes, eye Q. This line offers an example of the use of stops
in Q. to indicate the duration of a rhythmical pause :

'Where Cupid got new fire ; my mistres eye.'

CL1V. the capitals of Q. (see Note V. on Typography of

I retain

the Quarto 1609), except for legions (Legions Q.), and we// (Well Q.).
 NOTES

A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
I. The Text. The text, as in the case of the Sonnets, has been
founded on the facsimile by Charles Praetorius, from the Museum
copy of the First Quarto, 1609, and the same rules
have been
observed in editing it.

II. Notes on the Text.

7. Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain : Her world =
herself, as a microcosm. Cf. King Lear, in. i. 11 :

'
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.'

Sorrowes, wind and raiue in Q.

14. lattice, lettice Q. Cf. Sonnet in. 11, 12 :

'
So thou through windoios of thine age shalt see
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.'

15. napkin, Napkin Q.

18. That season d woe had pelleted in tears : f Pellet was the ancient
culinary term for a forced meat ball, a well-known seasoning.'
STEEVENS.
22. Sometimes her leveled eyes their carriage ride ; levelled aimed, as
guns on theircarriages. Cf. the Note on Sonnet cxvn. 11.
28. commix' d, commxit Q.
31. sheav'd, sheu'd Q.
36. maund = a hand-basket.
'
The Guide into Tongues gives a :

maunde or great basket, a Lat. manus, a hand, quod manu gestari

soleat.' Cf. Bishop Hall's Virgidemiarum, lib. v.:
'
Or many maunds-f ull of his mellow fruite
'
:

and Dekker, Jests to Make You Merry :

'
In her maund, a basket, which
She bears upon her arm '
:

and Herrick :

'There, filling maunds with cowslips, you

Shall find your Amaryllis.'
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 337^
bedded letQ., < beaded' Sewell, Cambridge
37. bedded jet, But :

'
bedded' is probably right = imbedded and descriptive of the actual
condition in which jet is found. Cf. Tempest, i. ii. 252 :

"Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded.'

41. let, lets Q.

46. posted, Posied Q., i.e. bearing some loving inscription ; cf. :

'Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring.' Hamlet, in. ii. 162.

46. sepulchres, Sepulchers Q.

48. sleided, separated or parted into threads, as weavers
prepare for
their sley, slay or reed. Cf. Pericles, iv., Gower, 21 :

'
Be 't when she weaved the sleided silk
With fingers long, small, white as milk.'

which, though not included in the first two Folios,

Pericles, a play
shows unmistakable marks of Shakespeare's hand, was first published
in Quarto in the same year 1009 as The bonnets and The Lover's
Complaint.
48. feat, feate Q. , i.e. featly, delicately. Cf. Tempest, i. ii. 380:
' '
Foot it featly heare and there ; and Winter's Tale, iv. iv. 176 :

( '
She dances featly.
'
49. Enswathed and seal'd to curious secrecy. Anciently the ends of a
piece of narrow ribbon were placed under the seal* of letters, to con
'
nect them more closely.' STEEVENS. Florio's Italian and English

Dialogues, entitled his Second Frutes, 1591, confirm Mr. Steevens's

observation. In p. 89, a person who is supposed to have just written
''
a letter, calls for some wax, some sealing thread, his dust-box and
his seal.'" MALONE.
51. gave to tear, gave to teare Q. and Kelmscott. Apparently =
'
made a motion as if to tear,' ' 'gan to tear,' Malone, Cambridge.
58. ruffle = flaunting commotion. 'In Sherwood's French and
English Dictionary, at the end of Cotgrave's Dictionary, ruffle and
hurliburly are synonymous. Again, in Camden's Remaines, 1605 :

" then there was a nobleman merrily conceited and

riotously given,
" '

that came ruffling into court in a new suit.

. . . MALONE.
60. hours observed as they few : Malone closes the parenthesis after

hours/ and refers the sequel to the torn fragments of paper. But it
'

'
refers to the hours observed by the blusterer,' who was also a philo

sopher of life.

61. this afflicted fancy = \hv love-sick lady.

'
64. grained bat, greyned bat Q. ; staff in which the grain of the
Y
 NOTES
wood was visible; cf. :
"my grained ash" Coriolanus, iv. v. 114.'
STEEVENS. 'Where go you with bats and clubs/ Ibid. i. i. 57.
f
The Guide into Tongues gives : a Bat, or clubbe. Vi. Batte, Clubbe,

or Staffe.'
65. comely-distant, hyphened by Malone.
73. judgment, Judgement Q.
84. Deified Q.
87. hurls, purls. Boswett, conj.
88. to do will aptly find = will readily find people to do it.

91. sawnQ., seen: an irregular past participle. 'Sown/ Boswell,

conj. and Bell ( drawn/ Lettsom, conj.
;

93. phoenix, perhaps = incomparable, or appertaining to a state of

transition. The Phoenix was a type of the nonpareil and of transmu
tation which engaged the attention of the age. Mandeville had lifted
that rare bird from Pliny ; King James versified Mandeville's descrip
tion in 1585, and Shakespeare, Jonson, Chapman, Marston, Drayton,
Daniel, all wrote on the Phoenix. Vere, Earl of Oxford, and Sir
William Herbert were contributors to a book of verses called The
Phwnix Nest (London, 1593).
94. Termless = youthful.
Yet show'd his visage = yet his visage show'd.
96. cost display.
Or he his manege by th' well doing steed ; Or he his mannad'g, by'
112.
th wel doing Steed, Q. The ' rounds, bounds, course and ' stop ' of '

1. 109 are terms of the

manege or riding-school. Mannad'gc, manage
in Malone and modern Editions is, manege, i.e. horsemanship, haute
ecole and the sense whether the horse by him ( = thanks to his rider's
: :

horsemanship) became his deed ( - exhibited the feats of the manege

with ease and grace), or he his manege ( = or whether the rider con
trolled the horse with grace) by th' well doing steed ( = thanks to the
horse's training).
116. In himself not in his case = not in his
conditions, here in the
sense of accessories. Shakespeare frequently uses case in its meta
e
physical sense. Cf. Sonnet cviu. 9 : In Love's fresh case.'
118. Can for additions : Sewell suggested 'came.' But 'can' is
here used in its
pre-auxiliary sense = to be effective in a pursuit.
Cf. Hamlet, iv. vii. 85 :

'
Ihave seen myself, and served against the French
And they can well on horseback.'
The sense is : All accessories, made fairer
by falling to him, count
for additions to his
perfection, yet their designed fitness did not make
up the sum of his grace, but each of them was him. graced by
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 339
126. Craft of will= faculty of influencing others. The next stanza
(127-133) is somewhat obscure. In Q. it runs :

127. That hee didde in the general bosome raigne

128. Of young, of old, and sexes both inchanted,
129. To dwel with him in thoughts, or to remaine
130. In personal duty, following where he haunted,
131. Consent's bewitcht, ere he desire have granted,
132. And dialogu'd for him what he would say,
133. Askt their own wils and made their wils obey.

In such cases it is safest to abide, as nearly as possible, by the

punctuation of Q. I take out the comma at the end of line 12, for
in that place it need have no grammatical significance (see Note A*.
on The Sonnets) I substitute a colon for a comma at the end of line
;

130, and insert a comma after 'And' in line 132. The sense is

then :

126. Catching all passions by his faculty for influencing others :

127. So that he reigned generally in the hearts

128. Of young and old and enchanted both sexes
129. To dwell with him in imagination when absent, or to stay with him
130. In personal attendance, following him in his haunts :

131. Consents bewitched by his grace, have conceded his wish ere he
expressed it,

132. And, put through question and answer on his behalf, as if he had
himself held speech,
133. Have made his requests to their own wills and made their wills comply
with them.

The insertion of a comma after 'And,' 1. 132, my only drastic

emendation, is justified, I submit, by the fact that the passage cannot
'
be construed unless ' dialogued be taken for a past participle passive.
Shakespeare uses the word as a verb. Cf. Timon of Athens, u. ii.
52:
'
How dost, fool ? Dost dialogue with thy shadow ?
'

'
'
137. labouring. Labour would make better sense.
140. owe = own. landlord, Land- lord Q.
144. and was my own fee-simple :
'
Had an absolute power over
myself; as large as a tenant in fee has over his estate.' ALONE. M
Fee-simple = that, whereof wee
'
The Guide into Tongues (1617) gives :

are seized in these generall words To us and our heires for ever.'
:

Not in part, (not in part) Q., i.e. not in part-ownership.

'
154-5. the foil Of this false Jewell (lewell Q. ) That is, his previous
:

conquests were as the foil, or thin leaf of metal, placed behind stones
340 NOTES
make them appear transparent or to give them a
by jewellers to
particular colour.
157-8. Or forced examples 'gainst her own content
'

To put the by-past perils in her way ? :

Or insisted on the examples which tell against her own (apparent)
happiness in order to hinder herself from pursuing
it by realising

the past dangers of others.

' '
164. forbid, ed. of 1640 ; forbod Q. seem Gildon ; seemes Q.
171. orchards, Orchards Q.
173. Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling.
'
broker formerly A
signified a pander.' MALONB. Cf. Hamlet, i. iii. 137 :

'
Do not believe his vows ;
for they are brokers,
Mere implorators of unholy suits.'

174. characters, Characters.

176. city, City Q.
182. vow Q, woo Dyce 1857 (Capell MS. and Collier conj.).
acture = action Malone, Bell.
' '
185. But perhaps the word was
'
coined^ on the model of 'facture/ to express, here, the mere nature
'
of action abstracted from other ideas, e.g. of ' intention/ which are
most often associated with'
action.' A blunter, but somewhat
analogous distinction, is drawn between the ideas expressed by the
two adjectives ' visual' and ' visible.' And our Poet was given to
distinctions which have proved too fine for preservation in common
'
speech. 'My offences' in 1. 183, and
their reproach' in 1. 189,
seem both to mean illegitimate children, the fruit of relations in
which ' neither party' is true or kind. Such witnesses, therefore,
raise no presumption that love has been given, or vowed.
192. to th', to th, Q., where the apostrophe has evidently been let

drop.
193. charmed, Charmed Q.
198. Of palid and rubies red as blood, Of palyd pearles and
pearls
rubies red as blood Q., palid ed. 1640. This beautiful line has too
'
long been injured by Malone's emendation paled.'
'
204. talents, tallents Q. These lockets, consisting of hair platted,
and set in gold.' MALONE. (
There was no such term applied
expressly to BELL.
lockets.' Shakespeare uses the word twice
for an accomplishment; twelve times in its
original sense of a sum
or weight of Greek
currency, all in Timon of Athens ; and once, as
perhaps here, for a precious possession. Cf. Cymbeline, i. vi. 79 :

'
In you, which I account his '
beyond all talents (tallents in First Folio).
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 341
205. impleach'd, intertwined as in a fence of pleached wattle. Cf.
Much Ado About Nothing, HI. i. 7 :
'
Bid her steal into the pleached bower.'

210. nature, Nature Q. = occult properties. Cf.

f
invised ^in
visible) properties/ quality. Q., but the full stop is
1. 212. quality :,

not grammatical, for the sense runs on into the next stanza, which
'
gives the matter of the deep-brain'd sonnets/ amplifying the nature
'
of these stones, till each with wit well blazon'd smiled or made some
moan/ 1. 217.
(
211. the Diamond,-- , the Diamond? Q.
215. blend = blended.
219. pensivd, pensiu'd Q., pensive Hudson 1881 (Lettsom, conj.).
221. render ; Q., render :

224. Since I their altar, you enpatron me, Since I their Aultar, you en

patrone me Q., enpatrone ed. 1640. The sense is Since 1 being :

the altar on which they are offered, you are the patron in whose
name that altar was erected. Cf. Lear, i. i. 144 :

'
Whom Ihave ever houour'd as my king,
Loved as my father, as my master followed,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers.'

225. Oh then advance (of yours) that phraseless hand Q. , phraseless

= ineffable, beyond the compass of praise.
' '
228. Hollowed Q., which may be right, i.e. carved' of the similes,
'
locks intertwined with metal and gems blazon'd with wit ; hallowed,
Sewell, Cambridge, Bell, Kelmscott.
229. What me your minister for you obeys : That which serves under
me your steward and representative.
as
234. Which late her noble suit in court did shun: 'Who lately retired
from the solicitation of her noble admirers/ MALONE.
234. Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote '
Whose accom :

plishments were so extraordinary that the flower of the young nobility

'
were passionately enamoured of her. MALONE.
236. of richest coate = of highest lineage (blazoned on their coat-

armour).
240. strives ? strives, Q.
241. Playing the place which did no form receive, Place Q. : This is
obscure. I am disposed to think it merely a metaphysical conceit, in
the author's manner, with the meaning ' making oneself as it were :

without form or void.' If so, it would be an ancient and laboured

342 NOTES
equivalent for the modern and vulgar colloquialism, making oneself
scarce. Some confirmation of this gloss may be found in 1. 245 :

'And makes her absence valiant, not her might.'

Many emendations have been suggested. Planing, Capell MS. Paling,

'
Malone, with the gloss, securing within the pale of a cloister that
heart which had never received the impression of love.' Salving . . .

harm receive, Lettsom, conj. Painting, Anon. Flying, Bullock, conj.

Playning, Orson, conj.
242. unconstrained, unconstraind Q.
251-2. . immured. .
procured Gildon, enur'd . .
procure
. . . .

Q.: The corruption of the text is not so extensive as it appears.

Enur'd evidently, with but n for m, was emur'd ; the apostrophe for a
mute ( e' is in accordance with the invariable practice of Q., and
emured stands for immured (Love's Labours Lost, in. i. 118) in all the
Quartos and in the First Folio.
Now, to tempt all, liberty, now to tempt all liberty Q. : The sense
is : She sought the cloister to avoid temptation, and now has pro
cured her liberty to tempt all ( to prove the whole experience of =
(
love). Gildon has now, to tempt (=to seduce),
all liberty procured.'
'
258. congest, ' collect together Bell.
260. Sun, Sunne Q., Variorum 1821, Bell, Kelmscott : The meta
'
phor is not far-fetched a very sun of sanctity and Sunne' can
f
scarce be a misprint for nun' (Malone, conj. ; Capell MS. ; Dyce,
1857; Cambridge).
261. Who in grace, Dyce 1857 (Capell MS. and
disciplin'd', ay, dieted
f
Malone, Cambridge, Kelmscott.
conj.), Who disciplin'd I dieted in
grace' Q., and dieted, Malone, Bell.
' '
Ay' was frequently spelt I.'
Cf. Drayton's Idea (1619), v. 1 :

" "
and " I " and " "
and " No "
'

Nothing but No
'
! ! I ! !

273. aloes, Alloes, with capital and italics, Q. See Note V. on The
Sonnets.
280. prefer and undertake =
put forward and guarantee.
281-2. dismount Cf. 1. 22, for the same
levell'd. . . .
image of a
gun aimed on carriage. its
290. but with, i.e. with but.
293. o cleft effect, or cleft
Q. =O double effect.
297.
303. cautels, Cautills '
Insidious purposes,' Malone, who
Q. cites
Hamlet, i. iii. 15 :
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 343
Perhaps he loves you now ;
'

And now no soil of cautel doth besmirch

The virtue of his will.'

The Guide into Tongues (1617) gives : Cautell = '

a crafty way to
deceive.'
305. swounding Cambridge, sounding Q.: An older form of the
same word.
308. swound, sound Q.
309. in his level, within his range of deadly fire : Cf. 11. 22, 281-2,
and Sonnet cxvu. 11.
316. Grace Cambridge, Variorum, Kelmscott ; grace Q.
329. maid, Maide Q.
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