VENUS AND 'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHField. RIGHT HONOURABLE, I KNOW not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden: only, if your honour seem but pleased. I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation. EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face "Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began, ΙΟ Nature that made thee, with herself at strife, Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed, And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety, Over one arm the lusty courser's rein, 20 30 Never did passenger in summer's heat O, pity,' 'gan she cry, flint-hearted boy! 'Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy? I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, 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: ICO Yet hath he been my captive and my slave, And begg'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have. 'Over my altars hath he hung his lance, Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red, "Thus he that overruled I oversway'd, Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain: Strong tempered steel his stronger strength obey'd, Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, For mastering her that foil'd the god of fight! "Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine,Though mine be not so fair, yet are they redThe kiss shall be thine own as well as mine. What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head: 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, 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: These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean 'The tender spring upon thy tempting lip 731 But having no defects, why dost abhor me! Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow; Mine eyes are gray and bright and quick i turning; 14 My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow, Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt. 'Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. 15 'Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie: 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: Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee? 'Is thine own heart to thine own face affected? "Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty. And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive, By this the love-sick queen began to sweat, I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain, Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough, 180 To shelter thee from tempest and from rain: And now Adonis, with a lazy spright, 'Ay me,' quoth Venus, 'young, and so unkind? 190 If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears. 'The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm, And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee: The heat I have from thence doth little harm, Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me; And were I not immortal, life were done Between this heavenly and earthly sun. 'What am I, that thou shouldst contemn me this? 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: Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again, 209 And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain. This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, And now her sobs do her intendments break. 221 Then be my deer, since I am such a park; 239 No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.' At this Adonis smiles as in disdain, 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; Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie, Why, there Love lived and there he could not die. These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits, 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? Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn, To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn! Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say? Her words are done, her woes the more increasing; The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree, His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire, What recketh he his rider's angry stir, 281 He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, For nothing else with his proud sight agrees. |