CLXXX

Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost,!
What face remains alive that's worth the viewing?
Whose tongue is music now? what canst thou boast
Of things long since, or any thing ensuing?

The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim ;
But true, sweet beauty liv'd and died with him.

CLXXXI

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

CLXXXII

1075

1078

1081

1084

'And therefore would he put his bonnet on,
Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep;
The wind would blow it off and, being gone,
Play with his locks: then would Adonis weep;
And straight, in pity of his tender years,

1087

1090

They both would strive who first should dry his tears.

CLXXXIII

'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,
The fishes spread on it their golden gills;
When he was by, the birds such pleasure took,
That some would sing, some other in their bills

Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries;
He fed them with his sight, they him with berries.

1099

1102

CLXXXV

'But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar,
Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave,
Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore ;
Witness the entertainment that he gave:

If he did see his face, why then I know
He thought to kiss him, and hath killed him so.

CLXXXVI

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

CLXXXVII

'Had I been tooth'd like him, I must confess,
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.'
With this, she falleth in the place she stood,
And stains her face with his congealed blood.

CLXXXVIII

1105

1108

IIII

1114

1117

1120

She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
She takes him by the hand, and that is cold;
She whispers in his ears a heavy tale,
As if they heard the woeful words she told;

1123

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

Wonder of time,' quoth she, this is my spite,
That, thou being dead, the day should yet be light.

CXC

'Since thou art dead, lo, here I prophesy :
Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend :
It shall be waited on with jealousy,

1135

Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end;

Ne'er settled equally, but high or low,

That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe.

1138

CXCI

'It shall be fickle, false and full of fraud, Bud, and be blasted, in a breathing-while; The bottom poison, and the top o'erstraw'd

1141

With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile :
The strongest body shall it make most weak,
Strike the wise dumb and teach the fool to speak.

1144

CXCII

'It shall be sparing and too full of riot,

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;
It shall be raging-mad and silly-mild,

1150

Make the young old, the old become a child.

CXCIII

'It shall suspect where is no cause of fear;

1153

It shall not fear where it should most mistrust;

It shall be merciful and too severe,

And 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

'It shall be cause of war and dire events,
And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire;
Subject and servile to all discontents,
As dry combustious matter is to fire:

1159

1162

Sith in his prime Death doth my love destroy,
They that love best their loves shall not enjoy.'

CXCV

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

1165

1168

CXCVI

She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell,
Comparing it to her Adonis' breath,

1171

And says, within her bosom it shall dwell,

Since he himself is reft from her by death:

She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears
Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears.

CXCVII

1174

'Poor flower,' quoth she, 'this was thy father's guise— 1177

Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire—

For every little grief to wet his eyes:

To grow unto himself was his desire,

And so 'tis thine; but know, it is as good
To wither in my breast as in his blood.

CXCVIII

1180

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

1183

1186

CXCIX

Thus weary of the world, away she hies,
And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid,
Their mistress, mounted through the empty skies
In her light chariot, quickly is convey'd ;

1189

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 OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TITCHFIELD.

THE loue I dedicate to your Lordship is without end: whereof this Pamphlet 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 SHAKESPEARE.

43