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A\^<^^,-^ C7^s> ^3/)c VENUS AND ADONIS 1593 FACSIMILE LONDON HENRY FROWDE, M.A. PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD One thousand copies of this Facsimile have been printed of which this is number 3'*/3 I SHAKESPEARES I VENUS AND ADONIS 1 BEING A REPRODUCTION IN FACSIMILE OF i THE FIRST EDITION I 1593 S FROM THE UNIQUE COPY IN THE MALONE COLLECTION ^ IN THE BODLEIAN LIBRARY WITH INTRODUCTION AND BIBLIOGRAPHY BY SIDNEY LEE ox Of THE VN/VEJRS(Tr or 4f ♦ ♦ * i OXFORD : AT THE CLARENDON PRESS I MDCCCCV g OXFORD PHOTOGRAPHS AND LETTERPRESS BY HORACE HART, M.A. PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY I PREFATORY NOTE This reproduction in collotype facsimile of the unique copy in the Bodleian Library of Shakespeare's poem of Venus and Adonis forms^ with the accompanying reproductions of the earliest editions of Lucrece^ Sonnets y The Passion- ate Tilgrim^ and the play of Tericles^ 3. supple- ment to the facsimile reproduction of the First Folio, which the Oxford University Press issued in ipox. All the compositions which find a place in the present publication were excluded from the First Folio, and this undertaking there- fore completes the presentation of Shakespeare's writings in their most authentic shape. The five volumes which are dealt with here were published in Shakespeare's lifetime in vary- ing conditions, which are described in detail in the editorial introductions. All the volumes are of the highest bibliographical rarity, and in cases 6 PREFATORY NOTE where more than one copy of the first edition exists^ that one in the best state of preservation has been chosen for reproduction. Not merely the first edition of these Shake- spearean volumes^ but all the reissues of the six- teenth and seventeenth centuries^ survive in very few copies. With a view to perfecting the biblio- graphical story^ reproductions in facsimile are given of the title-pages of the rarest of these reissues. Thanks are due to the Curators of the Bodleian Library for permission to reproduce the original editions of Kenus and Adonis^ 15*9 3^ of Lucrece^ 15*94^ of the Sonnets, 1609^ ^^^ ^f Tericles^ 1609. Mrs. Christie Miller has generously permitted the reproduction of her copy of The Tassionate Tilgrim^ I5'995 which is in the library at Britwell. This volume has not been photo- graphed before^ and is in far finer state than the only other copy known — that in the Capell Collection in Trinity College^ Cambridge. Of the fifteen illustrative title-pages^ six are reproduced by kind permission of the Curators of the Bodleian Library ; five by permission of PREFATORY NOTE 7 the Trustees of the British Museum ; three by permission of the Master and Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge; and one— the Venus and Adonis of 15-99— by permission of Mrs. Christie Miller of Britwell. In the case of each of the five works, the editor has endeavoured to give a history of all surviving copies of original editions and of early reissues, as well as to indicate their present homes. In the notes to his introductory essays he has made specific acknowledgement to the many owners who have aided him at particular points in this difficult part of his research. Among those who have given him much general assistance, he feels it right to mention here the American collectors, Mr. E. Dwight Church, Mr. W. A. White, and Mr. Marsden J. Perry ; Mr. George Parker Winship, Librarian of the John Carter Brown Library at Providence, Rhode Island; Mr. Strickland Gibson, of the Bodleian Library ; M. Hugues Vaganay, Librarian of Les Facult^s Catholiques of Lyons ; Mrs. Strong, Librarian to the Duke of Devonshire ; Mr. R. E. Graves, Librarian of the collection at Britwell; Mr. 8 PREFATORY NOTE Strachan Holme, Librarian to the Earl of Elles- mere ; Mr. F. J. Payne, whose full and competent notes on textual points have been very suggestive ; and Mr. W. B. Owen, late Scholar of St. Catharine's College, Cambridge, who has given the editor valuable help in the collation of the texts and has rendered him much other service in preparing the work for the press. October i, ipoy. CONTENTS PREFATORY NOTE , INTRODUCTION TO FENUS ANTf AT>ONTS-~ I. General Characteristics • • • • II. The Story in Foreign Literature III. The Story in pre-Shakespearean English Literature IV. The History of the Publication V. The History of the Text VI. A Census of Copies Illustrative Title-Pages — The edition of \S9<^ The unique copy of i;-pp The edition of i(Jo2 The edition of 1 617 The edition of i<52o The Edinburgh edition of 1^27 FACSIMILE OF THE EDITION OF 1^93 PAGE s 1 1 2p 19 48 SI 60 61 64 67 <58 70 77 B Shakespeare's poem of Venus and Adonis has a peculiar Points of fascination alike for the poet's biographer, critic, and biblio- "^^^'■^"• grapher. It is sufficient to mention three points of interest. Firstly, the volume, alone in the great roll of Shakespeare's works, includes a precise personal statement from the dramatist's own pen respecting its composition. Secondly, it supplies a singularly illuminating clue to the relations subsisting between Shakespeare's early work and the poetic efforts alike of his contemporary fellow countrymen and of the poets of the Italian Renaissance. Thirdly, it was the earliest of his writings to find its way to the printing press, and, although the early editions were extraordinarily numerous, exceptionally ^o.^ early copies survive. Neither the intrinsic nor the extrinsic character of the volume is to be exactly matched in variety of interest in the whole range of Shakespearean literature. No more valuable fragment of autobiography exists '■ First heir than the dedicatory letter bearing the poet's signature, °^™.^ ^"' which is prefixed to the original edition of Venus and Adonis, It is addressed to < The Right Honourable Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton and Baron of Titchfield '. Only one other of Shakespeare's works, The ^ape of Lucrece^ was similarly distinguished by a prefatory epistle from the poet's pen, and that was addressed to the same patron. But the inscription before the Venus and Adonis^ which is somewhat fuller and yet at the same time somewhat simpler in ex- pression than its successor, differs from it, too, in supplying B 2 12 VENUS AND ADONIS information under the author's hand as to the chronological place which the work fills in the long list of his achieve- ments. Shakespeare, in his letter to the Earl of Southampton, declares his Venus and Adonis to be « the first heir of my invention '. The frank tone of the address to the Earl combines with evidence from the poem's internal characteristics almost to compel the critic to interpret those words — < the first heir of my invention' — in their obvious sense. A difficulty inevit- ably suggests itself. By the year 15-93, when the poem was first published, Shakespeare had written at least four original plays, and had revised as many more by other hands.' None of these eight plays had yet gone to press, but such work must have been composed subsequently to ' the first heir' of the author's < invention', if that phrase is to be taken quite literally. The needs of the situation are, however, easily satisfied by the assumption that Venus and Jdonts was written, or at any rate sketched out, several years before it was published. The theory, which there is abundant internal and external testimony to justify, that this tale in verse was in all essentials the earliest of Shakespeare's experiments in poetry, does not exclude the likelihood that it was freshly elaborated before it was printed. There is indeed ground for the suggestion that the work lay in manuscript in the author's desk through four or five summers, during which it underwent occasional change and amplification. The tone of Shakcspearc's assurance that the poem was the first- fruits of his mighty faculty is amply confirmed by its tone ' The four original plays are in my view Love's 'Labour's Lost, Tivo Gefit/emen of Verona, Comedy of Errors, and Romeo and Juliet ; the four revised plays are in my view Titus Androntcus and the three parts of Henry VI. the poem. VENUS AND ADONIS 13 and subject. Neither makes it easy to quarrel with the conclusion that it was originally drafted while the poet's quick sympathetic intelligence was first growing conscious of its power. From the purely literary point of view the work often reaches heights of poetic excellence, which might have glorified the maturity of lesser men. But, viewed in relation to Shakespeare's ultimate achievements, it shows the promise of greatness more plainly than the fruition. The signs of immaturity are not to be mistaken. The lascivious temper which plays about the leading incidents is more nearly allied to the ecstasies of adolescence than to the ripe passion of manhood. There are many irrelevant and digressive details which, though as a rule they bear witness to marvellous justness of observation and to excep- tional command of the rich harmonies of language, defy all laws of artistic restraint. The metre, despite its melodious fluency, is not always so thoroughly under command as to ^ avoid monotony and flatness. The luxuriance of the imagery is one of the poem's most notable characteristics, and for the most part it serves with precision its illustrative purpose. But there are occasional signs of the juvenile tendency — of the vagrant impulse — to accumulate figurative ornament for its own sake. Nearly all the figures are, moreover, drawn from a somewhat narrow round of homely experience, from the sounds and sights of rural or domestic life. The < froward infant stilPd with dandling', the changing aspects of the sky, the timid snail creeping into its shell, the caterpillar devour- ing foliage, are among the objects which are employed by the poet to point his moral. All betray an alert familiarity with everyday incidents of rustic existence. The fresh tone and the pictorial clearness of the many rural similes in the Fenus and Adonis seem, in fact, to embody the poet's early matter. 14 VENUS AND ADONIS impressions of the country-side, — impressions which lost some- thing of their concrete distinctness and filled a narrower space in his thought in adult years, amid the multifarious distractions of the town. The subject- The subjcct, too, savours of the conditions of youth, — of what Shakespeare called in his So?mets (LXX. 9) ' the ambush of young days '. Shakespeare chose to occupy his budding fancy with a somewhat voluptuous story — an un- substantial dream of passion — which was first revealed to him in one of his classical school-books, and had already exercised the energies of famous versifiers of his own epoch in England and on the continent of Europe. As in the case of most youthful essays in poetry, the choice of so well- worn a topic as Venus and Adonis shows Shakespeare to have embarked at the outset of his poetic career in a con- sciously imitative efibrt, even if the potency of his indi- viduality stamped the finished product with its own hallmark. Ovid in his Metamorphoses had emulated the example of Theocritus and Bion, the pastoral poets of Greece, in narrating the Greek fable of Venus and Adonis. Ovid's poem filled a generous space in the curriculum of every Elizabethan school, and at all periods of his career Shakespeare gave signs of affectionate familiarity with its contents. But Ovid was only one of the literary companions of Shakespeare's youth, and the Latin poet dealt with this tale of Venus and Adonis in bare outline. In spite of his deep obligation to the great Roman, Shakespeare did not confine his early poetic studies to him. There are ample signs that he filled out Ovid's brief and somewhat colourless narrative on lines suggested by elder English contemporaries, Spenser and Marlowe, Lodge and Greene. In finally manipulating the theme there cannot be much doubt, too, that Shakespeare VENUS AND ADONIS j^ worked up some vitalizing conceptions which were derived from the Italian poets. Long before he wrote, foreign writers had elaborated the simple classic myth in narrative verse which closely anticipated his own in shape and sentiment. Most of the varied influences which moulded Shake- speare's poetic genius, indeed, find a first reflection in Venus and Adonis, In it, recent impressions of the country life of Warwickshire seem to be fused, not merely with schoolboy devotion to Ovid and youthful enthusiasm for the new birth of English poetry, but with genuine appreciation of the taste and feeling which the Renaissance had generated in all cultivated minds of Western Europe. On foundations ofFered by the novels of Italy and France— some of the most characteristic fruit of Renaissance literature- Shakespeare at the height of his powers reared many of his best-known plays. The same elements of literary sustenance, the same force of literary sympathy, which fed the stream' of Shakespeare's genius in its maturity, seem, in the eye of the careful student, to course in embryo through Venus ana Adonis^ < the first heir ' of his invention. II Critics of Venus and Adonis hardly seem conscious of the Distribution fact that the story of Venus and Adonis engaged the attention °^'^*' "°^- of poets in Italy, France, and Spain, as well as of England, both before and after Shakespeare approached the theme.' The extent to which Shakespeare was acquainted with the preceding foreign efforts may be difl5cult to appraise, but that ^ J. P. Collier strangely wrote o{ Venus and Adomssiyily years ago : <■ It was notHn'^'Tr •!' t'^ri ^'^"^ ^"^^'^ °° "° "^°^^1 either ancient or modern ; w^^p^uceVlft'^^^^^^^^^^ ^"^"^^^^^ ^^^^^^' ^"^ "°^^-^^ --P-^^e to it' 16 VENUS AND ADONIS he had learned something of them is a proposition that is hard to refute. In any case it is desirable to indicate briefly the distribution of the story in the literature of the European Renaissance, not merely because the attempt does not seem to have been made before, but because only thus is Shakespeare's work, whatever its precise measure of indebtedness, set in its rightful place in the broad current of contemporary thought and aspiration. Shakespeare's achievements are commonly treated in isolation — as work detached from the great movements of his epoch. In many instances the supreme quality and individuality of his genius may largely justify the critic in ignoring the links that bind the poet to his era. But in the case of Venus and Adonis^ no such transcendent merits are in question. He writes on a lofty level. But the plane along which he moves is that in which many others of the century had their being, and his literary no less than his historic position is misrepresented, when the similar work of those who wrote a generation or two before him, or at the same time as he, is passed by in silence. The Greek xhc story of Vcuus and Adonis, which had its source in Adonis. Phoenician or Assyrian mythology, was absorbed at an early period by the religion of Greece. The earliest poems in honour of Adonis, the beloved of Venus, who was pre- maturely slain in a boar-hunt, were elegiac hymns written to be sung at an annual religious festival commemorative of the youth's sad death.* Sappho and Praxilla wrote such lyrics ' The compilers of the Vulgate version of the Old Testament intro- duced a reference to the familiar Adonaic festival. Cf. * Et introduxit me per ostium portae domus Domini, quod respiciebat ad Aquilonem : et ecce ihi mulieres sedeBa7it plangent es Adonidem ' (Ezek. viii. 14.). The Hebrew text reads Thammuz, the god of light. According to the story as it was ultimately incorporated into the religion of Greece and of all the lands by the shore of the Eastern Mediterranean, Adonis, after his wooing by Aphrodite (Venus) and his physical death in the boar-hunt, was suffered, at the earnest entreaty of the VENUS AND ADONIS 17 of lamentation for ritual observances in the sixth century b.c. But it was three centuries later, in the closing epoch of classical Greek literature, when the worship of Adonis flourished in its chief glory, that the theme was developed to best effect by Theocritus and Bion, the Greek pastoral poets of Sicily. The fifteenth of Theocritus' Idylls describes idylls of the celebration of the festival of Adonis, and includes ^^^610^ a beautiful psalm sung in the hero's honour. The finest """ of all Greek poems on the theme is Bion's pathetic Lament for Adonis^ which enjoyed the admiration of the poets of the Renaissance, and ultimately suggested to Shelley his Adonais, the great elegy on Keats. goddess of love to spend in spirit half the year in Hades with Persephone (Proserpina) and half the year on earth with Aphrodite. The myth seems an anthropomorphic interpretation of the annual birth and decay of vegetation Adonis being identified with the spirit that brings the flowers and fruits year by year to life and then deserting them leaves them to decay. This interpreta- tion is confirmed by the name of 'Gardens of Adonis ' (.^^06 ' khZa>o,\ which was conferred throughout Greece in classical times on earthen vessels in which plants were brought to fruition with exceptional rapidity and then usually faded as quickly. Many classical authors mention these flower-pots under the name of ' Gardens of Adonis ' (cf. Plato, Vhaedrus zi6). In / Henry n, 1. 6. 6-7 Joan of Arc's < promises ' are likened to _,■ J , , , , Adonis' gardens Ihat one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next- sure evidence of ripe classical knowledge in the author of this scene. Spenser in his F^m. G^j^ee^e (Bk. iii. Canto vi, Stanzas xxix-liii) gives an eaborate description of 'The Garden of Adonis', which he represents allegorically as the great treasury of Nature's seeds — The first seminary Of all things that are born to live and die According to their kinds. Developing his theme somewhat irregularly, Spenser finally makes the ' garden ' the eternal home of the immortalized hero Adonis, where he is visited by his lover Venus (Stanzas xlvi-xlix). Milton, doubtless imitating Spenser, wrote of Spot more delicious than those gardens feign'd Or of reviv'd Adonis, or renown 'd Alcinous, host of old Laertes' son. (Paradise Lost, ix. ^3^-41.) C narrative. 1 8 VENUS AND ADONIS From Greek literature the story spread to Roman. Ovid's Ovid's narrative of the fable in his Metamorphoses (x. f 20- 738) is a mere skeleton, and is awkwardly obscured by the interpolation of the independent story of Hippomenes' foot- race with Atalanta (11. j 60-7 07)- But Ovid caught something of the temper of Theocritus and Bion, and added a few mythological details. It was through the Latin that the tale in the first instance reached the poets of Western Europe. Dante's slight allusion to Venus' infatuation (Purgatorio^ xxviii. 6j^~6) and Chaucer's apostrophe to Venus in The I^ight^s Tale (2227-8)— For thilke loue thou haddest to Adon, Have pi tee on my bitter teres smart, are Ovidian reminiscences. Shakespeare, too, gained his first knowledge of the myth from Ovid. He had opportunities of reading the Ovidian tale in both Latin and English from his school-days. Golding's English verse translation of the 'Metamorphoses^ of which the publication was completed in i')67^ was constantly reprinted during Shakespeare's lifetime, and the dramatist adapted many passages from it in plays of all periods of his career. Ovid's account of Venus' infatuation for Adonis, of her warnings against the ferocity of the boar, of his love of the chase, of his death in the boar-hunt, of the goddess' grief, and of her lover's transformation into a purple flower, are the broad bases of Shakespeare's poem. Apart from verbal coincidences, some of its leading characteristics — the free employment of pictorial imagery, and the frank appeal to the senses — indicate that Ovid, whether in the Latin original or in the English translation, was a primary source of inspira- tion. Shakespeare's indebtedness to Ovid passed indeed beyond the bounds of the Latin poet's brief version of the VENUS AND ADONIS 19 simple story of Venus and Adonis. Shakespeare drew crucial hints for his superstructure from two independent episodes of the Metamorphoses^ firstly from the wooing of the reluctant Hermaphroditus by the maiden Salmacis (bk. iv), and secondly from the hunting of the Calydonian boar (bk. viii). The coyness, which is the main characteristic of Shakespeare's Adonis, does not distinguish Ovid's Adonis, who is mildly responsive to Venus' embraces ; it is the characteristic of another of Ovid's mythical heroes, Hermaphroditus. Such lines in Golding's rendering of the tale of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus as Leave off, (quoth he), or I am gone and leave thee at a becke With all thy tricks, and Striue, struggle, wrest and writh (she sayd) thou froward boy thy fill, Do what thou canst thou shalt not scape, can be matched almost verbatim in Shakespeare's poem. There is nothing faintly resembling them in Ovid's tale of Venus and Adonis. The white figure of the boy Herma- phroditus, gleaming beneath the water as he bathes, is likened by Ovid to an image in ivory or a white lily encased in clear glass.' Adonis' white hand is compared by Shake- speare to A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow, Or ivory in an alabaster band. (3(^3-4.)* But it is possible that Shakespeare interwove this Ovidian * In liquidis translucet aquis, ut eburnca siquis Signa tegat claro, vel Candida lilia, vitro (Ovid, Met. iv. 1%^-%). ' In Jove's Labour's Lost^ ii. i. z^i-z^ Shakespeare quotes as symbolic of extravagant wealth, '■Jewels htcrystalior some prince to buy . . . tend'ring their own worth, from where they were glass' d.' C 2 2 VENUS AND ADONIS story of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus at second-hand — that he appropriated it from an original poetic adaptation by an English contemporary, Thomas Lodge.' It is beyond reason- able doubt, however, that Shakespeare's eye caught direct Ovid's description of the Calydonian boar, which figures in the eighth book of his Metamorphoses. Golding thus renders Ovid's description of the brute of Calydon {Metamorphoses^ viii. 2 8 4-5): — His eies did glister blud and fire : right dreadfull was to see His hrawned necke^ right dredfull was his heare which grew as thicke With pricking points as one of them could well by other sticke. And like a front of armed Pikes set close in battall ray^ The sturdie bristles on his back stoode staring up alway. In Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis the boar is pictured thus (di9-2i, ut had Shakespeare gone to Ovid alone, his Fenus mid Adonis would not have taken the shape which is familiar to us. The scholars of the Renaissance rediscovered in the sixteenth century the Greek pastoral poetry of Sicily, and many poets of the Renaissance, while they continued to pay much deference to Ovid, sought inspiration in Theocritus and Bion as well. Not Ovid's Metamorphoses alone, but also Bion's elegy was translated into all the vernacular tongues of Western Europe, and it was sometimes under the Greek influence, and sometimes under the Latin, and more often under the two influences combined, that there came to birth the massive corpus of poetry on the classical legend in Italian, French, Spanish, and English. Through the Renaissance literature of Italy the story in the spread rapidly. At the end of the fifteenth and at the R^"^"^^" ... . poetry of beginning of the sixteenth century it was a frequent theme Italy. in Italy of scholarly Latin verse ', and early in the sixteenth century it found its way into the vernacular Italian poetry. The vogue of the story was greatly extended by an Italian rendering of Bion's elegy (wrongly assigned to Theocritus under the title of Epitafio di Adone di Teocrito)^ which appeared in a collection of l^me Toscane in isiS-^ Avery ' Numerous Latin poems on Venus and Adonis by Italian scholars, including Alciati, Sannazaro, and Minturno, are found in Gruter's Delitiae Italorum Poetarum^ vol. i, pp. 32, c)0, 1311 ; vol. ii, pp. 713, 5)14, i^^z. In Fontani Opera^ 1505, an epigram De Adonide et Venere^ p. 10, gives a vivid de- scription of nature's grief on Adonis' death ; see also De conversione Adonidts In citrtum^ p. 13^. Slight reference is made to Adonis by Ariosto in his Orlando Furioso. He is mentioned under Ovidian influence as a type of ardent lover. Canto vi. Stanza 57, and as the child of an incestuous union in Canto xxv, Stanza 7,6. ^ This was first published in Paris in i^r^y and reissued in Venice in 15:38 and i')^'j. The author's name is given on the title-page as Amomo ; nothing else seems known of him. Cf. F. Flamini's Studi di istoria litteraria ttaliana e stran'tera^ -^^Jj PP- i^^J^ sq. 22 VENUS AND ADONIS i^w years later three well-known figures in the history of Italian literature developed almost simultaneously the theme in original Italian verse. All wrote in the same eight- lined stanza under Greek and Latin influences, which were mingled in different proportions, but they arranged the common material according to their individual fancy. Dolce. Lodovico Dolce, who translated Ovid's Metamorphoses and Euripides' tragedies into Italian, besides writing many original plays and poems of classical temper, published in 1 5-45' his La Favola d*Adone (' The story of Adonis ') in eighty-four eight- lined stanzas. Dolce followed Ovid slavishly, even setting on Venus' lips the interpolated tale of Hippomenes' suit of the swift-running Atalanta. But he seems to essay some origin- ality by making Jove contrive Adonis' death at the entreaty of Juno, who is jealous of Venus and seeks to injure her/ Tarcha- The sccond Italian poem, VAdojie^ was in seventy-four gnota. eight-lined stanzas, and was by an Italian of Greek origin, Metello Giovanni Tarchagnota. His work was published at Venice in ifyo. Tarchagnota avoids Dolce's digressions, and is his superior in passionate and picturesque expression.^ He felt more nearly the spontaneous charm of the Sicilian poetry. Parabosco. Within Icss than a decade a versatile friend of Dolce, Girolamo Pnrabosco, an organist at St. Mark's, Venice, who made a reputation as writer of madrigals as well as of novels and poems, tried his hand on the theme in a poem of ' Dolce's poem was appended to the first issue of his play called ll CapitanOj which appeared at Venice, I5'45:. The British Museum has no earlier edition than that of 1 547. = Of the first edition, which is extremely rare, there is a copy in the Grenville Collection at the British Museum. The copy in the Biblioteca Nazionale in Rome was reprinted at Naples in 1898, edited by Angelo Borzelli. Tarchagnota, who died at Ancona in \')66^ was a Greek and Latin scholar and an industrious compiler in prose, chiefly from Greek and Latin. His poem VAdone seems his role surviving experiment in verse. VENUS AND ADONIS 23 fifty-four eight-lined stanzas — La Favola d^Adone, He worked on the simple lines of Tarchagnota, and strictly confined himself to depicting Venus' passion and Adonis' death.* The warmth of feeling which is inherent in the legend Marino. was reflected by Dolce, Tarchagnota, and Parabosco, in the comparatively sober colours which were characteristic of the Greek poets. The like restraint is observable in the briefer Italian poems on the subject which figure in the * Rime ' of Luigi Groto, called Cieco d* Hadrla (Venice, is 7 7)-) and in L? Adcne^ idillio di Ettore Martinegro (Venice, 1^14). But ultimately a more famous poet of the Italian Renaissance, Giovanni Battista Marino, gave freer play to a lascivious imagination, and wove round the story a voluptuous epic in twenty cantos, which was again entitled UAdone. Marino, as an extant letter proves, designed near the outset of his career a poem of Adonis on the restricted plan which Para- bosco and Tarchagnota adopted. He also translated anew Bion's Lament. But the work grew under his hand, and finally emerged in the prolix and affected collection of mytho- logical improprieties, which has given him claim to rank with the chief literary masters of lubricity. Marino's poetry was well known to Shakespeare's contemporaries % but his epic ^ This was first published at Venice as an appendix to the third book of Parabosco's I quatro Ubr't delle lettere amorose^ Venice, 15:^1. The literary work of Parabosco, who died in 1557, ^"^^ o^ Dolce, was not unfamiliar to the Elizabethans. Watson notes that two of his ' passions ' (Nos. Ixv and c) in his Hecatompathia (1581) were based on 'the invention of M. GiroJamo Parabosco', and Drummond of Hawthornden records that in 16^11 he read Parabosco's Lettere amorose — the volume which includes the poem UAdone. George Gascoigne's tragedy of Jocasta is a translation of Dolce's version of Euripides' Vhoenissae^ and Lodge acknowledged that several poems in his Margarite were written ' in imitation of Dolce, the Italian poet '. I can find no reference in Elizabethan literature to Tarchagnota. " As early as 15"^! the poet Daniel issued by way of appendix to the collection of sonnets, which he entitled Delia, a translation of one of Marino's poems, which he called The Description of Beauty, *4 VENUS AND ADONIS In the Renaissance poetry of France. Melin de St. Gelais. Passerat. Gabriel le Breton. In the Renaissance poetry of Spain. of Adonis was not completed till 1523 — long after Shake- speare's poem was published. The history of his endeavour, however, affords salient proof that the topic persisted in Italian literature throughout Shakespeare's career. A like story has to be told of the history of the tale in France. It gained its first hold on French readers, when Melin de St. Gelais published in i ^47 a beautiful rendering in French of Bion's Lament. This was probably completed ten years earlier, and was constantly reprinted. Before i j74 a graceful lyrist, Jean Passerat, penned a short poem in 1 34 lines of riming couplets called Adonis.^ mi la Chasse du Sanglier, It is a simple narration on Ovidian lines of Adonis' beauty, of Venus' infatuation, of her warnings of the boy against devotion to the chase, of his impetuous challenge of the boar, of his death, and his transformation into a flower. Subsequently the fable was turned by another French writer to more complex uses. It was made the basis of a tragedy called Adonis^ by Gabriel le Breton, a Paris lawyer, who published his work in ifzp. The play was designed as an allegorical elegy on the death of King Charles IX of France, on May 30, 1^7 \* Adonis represents the dead king, and Venus typifies grief-stricken France. Venus' lamentations show more tragic power than appears in any contemporary adaptation of the theme. l"he machinery involves the introduction of characters like Mars, Diane, Cupidon, L'Ombre d'Adonis, and two shepherds, Montan and Sylvain, in addition to the hero and heroine. But the conventional lines of the tale are generally respected, and there are no intricacies of plot. In Spain it was Italian example which directly inspired the treatment of the story. One of the most accomplished of Spanish statesmen, Don Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, VENUS AND ADONIS 25- who in the course of his diplomatic occupations visited both Don Dieco Italy and England during the first half of the sixteenth ^""d^^ century, produced in lyy^ a Spanish poem called Fdbula de ' Adonis^ in eight-lined stanzas, which enjoyed wide popularity in the peninsula. Don Diego narrated the legend after the manner of Dolce. Other Spanish poets subsequently repeated Mendoza's experiment. In the miscellaneous collection of poetry, the Ca?icionero jeneral of Amberes, which appeared in I ^S7y there figured an attractive poem on the subject in short metre. A writer of repute, Juan de la Cueva (lyyo-ido?), Juan de b penned in eighteen < ottavas reales ' the Llanto de Venus en la ^^^"'^^ muerte de Adonis^ ^ and there is a stilted sonnet by Lope de Vega's friend Juan de Arguijo (d. 1(^29), entitled Venus en la muerte de Adonis. Finally, in the last decade of the century, the theme was elaborately recast by a more dis- tinguished pen. Lope de Vega's tragedy entitled Adonis y Lope de Venus^ which greatly developed the ancient legend, is the most ^^^^' notable adaptation of the story in the literature of Spain."- Thus a cursory survey of the literature of the European Family like- Renaissance shows not merely that the story of Venus and "^^11"^°"^ Adonis had already travelled far and wide before it engaged sance poems. Shakespeare's attention, but that it was still enjoying active life abroad while he was working upon it. The strong family resemblance which exists among the component parts of this many-languaged Adonic literature is mainly due to the common sources in classical poetry. Only where there recur in two or more poems details or reflections or * Obras poeticaij Seville, 1582. ^ Cf. Observaciones preliminares, ix-xxv, before Lope's tragedy Adonis y Venus in Obras de Lope de Vega pubUcadas for la Real Academta Espanola^ Tomo vi, Madrid, \%<^6. Several narrative poems on the same subject appeared in Spain during the seventeenth century. Cf. Alonso de Batres' Idbula de Adonis y Venus ^ and Juan de Moncayo y Gurrea's Venus y Adonis {^2iTzgoz2i, i^^P}* D 26 VENUS AND ADONIS imagery which are not derived from Ovid or Theocritus or Bion can any theory of immediate interdependence Shakespeare dcscrve a hearing. There are too many details peculiar to Itaiianpocts. Shakcspearc's poem and to its Italian predecessors, to preclude the suggestion that Shakespeare was acquainted with the latter and absorbed some of their ornaments and episodes.* The deliberate setting of the scene of Fenus and Adonis amid flowers blooming under the languorous heat of summer skies is outside the scheme of the Latin or Greek poets. Yet this is a feature which is common to the work of Shakespeare and the Italians. Dolce gives (Stanza vii) an enchanting picture of the pleasant spot (' alma stagion 'j where Venus and Adonis first meet : — Quivi tra gigli le vermiglie rose Vi dimostrano ogn' hor liete & vezzose. Parabosco (Stanza iii) is equally alive to L' herbette e fiori et ogni verde stelo which deck out the fair trysting-place (< la bella stagione '), and nearly bury Adonis out of sight. Shakespeare is no more sparing of references to lilies and roses. Flowers — < blue- veined violets ' and primroses — embroider the bank (11. i2f, 1 5-1) whereon Venus lies while she tempts Adonis. Again, Tarchagnota's opening stanza shows the afternoon sun shining on the flowery meads : — Ne P ardente stagion, che in ciascun prato Secca ogni vago flor, ch' odor rendeva ^ Era gia Phebo oltre il merigie andato, E partendo men caldo il ciel faceva. ' A similarity meets us in the preliminary pages. Each of the early Italian poems is preceded, as in the case of Shakespeare's work, by a very short dedicatory epistle in prose addressed to a patron. In two cases the patron is a man, and in the third a womm. The pointed brevity of the salutation, and the employment of prose instead of verse, are somewhat rare characteristics which are precisely paralleled in Shakespeare's two narrative poems. VENUS AND ADONIS 27 The sun's rising or falling rays constantly illumine Shake- speare's story, which opens in the dawn of a summer's day.* The sunlit atmosphere, no less than the flower-strewn grove, seems redolent of an Italian origin. There are indeed other and more definite accretions to the classical legend, both in Shakespeare and the Italian poets, which seem to indicate loans levied by the English poet on his foreign predecessors. The impressive execration of death which Shakespeare puts into Venus' mouth has the true ring of poetic fervour, and bears the stamp of the Shakespearean mint (11. 931-5-4, 991-1002). But Shakespeare appears there to work up an episode in the Italian poem of Tarchagnota, who set on Venus' lips an impassioned complaint, in a like number of lines, of the blind cruelty of the hard-favoured Tyrant (Stanzas liv-lix). ' Tu morte crudel,' ' o cosa mostruosa e strana,' cries the Venus of the Italian poet at the thought of Adonis' loss; Death, she sorrowfully reflects, destroys the pleasure of mortal life as suddenly as it devours the beauty of the flowers of the field. The sentiment is clothed by the Venus of Shakespeare in richer language, yet it is doubtful if it would have had its precise place in the English poem's machinery, but for the Italian suggestion.^ Again, Venus' final retractation in * Cf. Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn. (II. i-i.) A Summers's day will seem an hour but short (1. 23.) And Titan, tired in the midday heat, With burning eye did hotly overlook them. (II. 177-8.) The sun ariseth in his majesty : Who doth the world so gloriously behold That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold. (11. Sffi'-S.) ' In introducing Venus' apostrophe to Death, the Italian poets themselves developed a very slight and bare hint in Bion's Lament^ where Venus is made to describe Adonis as ' journeying to Acheron, that hateful king and cruel ' {(TTvyvov Pa(ri.Xrja Kal aypiov). D 2 2^8 VENUS AND ADONIS Shakespeare of her railing indictment of Death seems to grow out of the goddess' gentle cry in the Italian of Tarchagnota, when Death claims her lover: — lo ti perdonerei ci6 che fatto hai. Venus is represented, too, by Sliakespeare as excusing the boar's murderous assault on Adonis on the ground that the fatal thrust was an amorous embrace, to which the brute was provoked by the boy's beauty. Venus exclaims in Shake- speare's poem : — He thought to kiss him, and hath killed him so. 'Tis true, 'tis true j 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. (Venus and Adonis^ 11. 1 1 1 o— i d.) The boar's appeal to Venus after Adonis' death in Tarchagnota's poem is to like curious effect : — Ti giuro, che il voler mio non fu mai Di offender questo tuo si caro amante : Ben e egli il ver, che tosto, ch' io mirai Nel corpo ignudo sue bellezze tante, Di tanta fiamma acceso mi trovai, Che cieco a forza mi sospinsi avante. Per baciar la belta, che il cor m' apria, Et ismorzar Pardor, che in me sentia. {VAdone^ Stanza Ixv.') ' This episode is of Greek classical origin. It is the topic of the last poem in the ordinary collections of Theocritus' idylls, although the autho-- was some late imitator of Theocritus, and not the poet himself. Antonius Sebastianus Minturnus* Latin epigram called De Adone ah Apro Interempto deals with the same theme [d. Shakespeare, Variorum edition, i8ii, xx. p. 784). The Theocritcan idyll was rendered into crude English verse in a volume entitled Six Id'tllia , . . chosen out of the right famous Sictlian poet Theocritus ^ Oxford, 1 588, VENUS AND ADONIS 29 III But it was not only the Ovidian outline and Italian The story in adaptations that Shakespeare assimilated. None had chosen ^"S^^"^- the legend for independent treatment in England before Shakespeare. But many Elizabethan poets of earlier date had made incidental reference to the tale, and had laid special stress on features of it which Shakespeare seems to have elaborated in emulation of them. Spenser in his Elegy on Sir Philip Sidney adapts the details Spenser's of the fable to his special purpose. Spenser figuratively ofTtTiTs^J) credited his hero with Adonis' precise manner of death. 'AstropheP is slain in the chase by 'a cruel beast ', who inflicts a wound in his thigh, and his corpse is metamorphosed into a flower. Spenser, too, sets on the lips of Sidney's lady- love Stella the pathetic lamentation which poetic tradition assigned to Venus on the discovery of Adonis' dead body. Spenser's description of the flow of blood from the boar's fatal thrust, and the transformation of the fair white corpse into a flower <• both red and blue ', anticipate Shakespeare's account of how in his blood that on the ground lay spill'd, A purple flower sprung up. The curious identity of tone, as well as of topic, can only be appreciated by a close study of the two poems side by side. The metre of Spenser's Astrophel^ moreover, was that adopted by Shakespeare in his poem o^ Venus and Adonu. Many a critic might be forgiven if he mistook such a stanza as the following of which only one copy — in the Bodleian Library — is known (cf. reprint in Some Longer 'Elizabethan Voems^ ed. A. H. Bullen, Constable's edition of Arber's English Garner, 1903, pp. 125, i4()). But the Italian version of Tarchagnota has far closer affinity to Shakespeare's treatment of the incident, than the English translation of the Thcocritcan idyll or Minturnus' epigram. 30 VENUS AND ADONIS from Spenser's Astrophel for one of those with which Venus and Adonis concludes : — His pallid face, impictured with death, She bathed oft with teares, and dried oft : And with sweet kisses suckt the wasting breath Out of his lips like lilies pale and soft : And oft she cald to him, who answered nought, But onely by his lookes did tell his thought. Spenser made a second and an undisgoiised allusion to the legend in the Faerie ^leene^ where he described Uhe dear Adonis ', the paramour of fair Venus, lying Lapped in flowers and precious spicery in the fruitful garden called by the name of < the wanton boy '. It is in the garden of Adonis that Nature, in Spenser's allegory, harbours her seeds of life — a philosophical con- ception which is happily overlooked by Shakespeare. It is important to note that Spenser ignores the coy modesty of Adonis. It is not a point on which Ovid is quite explicit, and most of his successors leave it uncertain whether Adonis welcomed or rejected Venus' embraces. In some of these writers' pages Adonis' loving ardour, despite his devotion to the chase, is no cooler than that of Venus. Shakespeare diverges further from the O vidian scheme in making the boy's impatience of Venus' advances the pivot Robert of the tale. Two other English poets, Robert Greene and Greene. Marlowe, had already seen, albeit dimly, the poetic value of this development of the legend. Robert Greene devoted to the story two lyrics which figured in his prose romances, and in both the boy's sensitive shyness is brought into prominence. One of these lyrics, in the six-lined stanza of VENUS AND ADONIS ji Shakespeare's poem, which was introduced into the novel oi Perimedes the Black e- Smith (15" 8 8), opens thus : — In Cypres sat fayre Venus by a Fount Wanton Adonis toying on her knee : She kist the wag, her darling of accompt, The Boie gan blush, which when his lover see, She smild and told him loue might challenge debt And he was young and might be wanton yet. Greene's second lyric on the theme which figured in his tract called Never too late (lypo) is a pathetic appeal on the part of Venus to the disdainful boy : — Sweet Adon, darest not glance thine eye? N'oserez-vous, mon bel ami? Upon thy Venus that must die? Je vous en prie, pity me ; N'oserez-vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oserez-vous, mon bel ami? It is more interesting to note that Marlowe, in his Marlowe, translation of the Hero and Leander of Musaeus, went out of his obvious path in order to bring Adonis' coldness into signal relief. In that translation Marlowe mentions Adonis more than once. In one place he gives the youth the epithet ' rose-cheek'd ', which is not warranted by the Greek text. That word is borrowed by Shakespeare when he first introduces Adonis to his reader in the third line of his own poem — a plain acknowledgement of obliga- tion. In another place of Hero and Leander Marlowe inter- polated three original lines, of which the Greek is quite innocent. These describe the grove where Venus in her naked glory strove To please the careless and disdainful eyes O^ proud Adonis, that before her lies. 32 VENUS AND ADONIS Marlowe's genius exercised a powerful fascination over Shake- speare's youth, and in all probability under such influence Adonis' disdain of the goddess of beauty became the central motive of his first poem. There was much material at Shakespeare's hand which may well have encouraged him to develop Marlowe's hint. Another popular tale which was wholly concerned with a youth's disdain of a beautiful woman's embraces was accessible to him, and it was easy to graft its main features on the legend of Venus and Adonis. Ovid before he approached the tale of Venus and Adonis in his Metamorphoses had elaborated the less conventional topic in the tale of The story of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus. That story of Ovid had Saimacisand attracted attention in Elizabethan England. It had been dims. rendered independently into loose pedestrian English rhyme by one Thomas Peend. His Pleasant Fable of Hermaphroditus and Salmacis. . . . With a morall in English verse was published in a small octavo in is<^f^ But there was little in Peend's doggerel to serve Shakespeare's purpose. There was far more in Golding's literary rendering of Ovid's tale. But Shakespeare clearly supplemented that source by another. It is of great importance to bear in mind that some four years before the publication of Venus and Adonis^ an Eliza- bethan poet, Thomas Lodge, presented with much exuberant and original detail a different hero's disdain of a different Lodge's heroine's advances. In 15-89 appeared Lodge's narrative G Uncus and Scilla, 1589. * A freer version followed at a later date, and has been very doubtfully assigned to Francis Beaumont, the dramatist. This was first published anony- mously under the title of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus in idoz. It is in heroic verse and is of much literary interest. The rare copy in the Bodleian Library was reprinted in the Shakespeare Society Fapers (184.7), ^°^* ^^^* PP* 94--i^<^» In Cranley's A7na7tda (1^55), Shakespeare's Venus and Adoiiis is mentioned < with Salmacis and her Hermaphrodite ' among a number of * songs of love and sonnets exquisite*. VENUS AND ADONIS 35 poem of Glaucus and Scilla. Lodge's work was penned in the metre of Shakespeare's poem, and in the opening stanzas, before he arrives at his real theme, he rapidly and quite parenthetically describes Adonis' death and Venus' grief. With Lodge's prefatory sketch critics are generally aoreed that Shakespeare was familiar. Venus, according to Lodge, hastened after Adonis' fall to the grove Where all pale with death he lay alone. Whose beauty quaild as wont the lillies droop When wastfull winter windes doo make them stoop. What followed, Lodge described thus (Stanza xxii) : — Her daintie hand addresst to clawe her deere. Her roseall lip alied to his pale cheeke. Her sighes, and then her lookes and heavie cheere, Her bitter threates, and then her passions meeke. How on his senseless corpes she lay a crying. As if the boy were then but new a dying. But such stanzas are merely prefatory illustration of the main theme of Lodge's poem, and it is Lodge's treatment of that theme which suggests the extent of Shakespeare's indebtedness to the poem. The story of Glaucus and Scilla resembles that of Venus and Adonis in being one of the many which the modern world borrowed from Ovid's Metamorphoses (xiii. 905- sq.). But Lodge radically changed his Ovidian material. The Latin version presents a normal pursuit of a modest maiden Scylla by an impassioned lover Glaucus. Lodge took on himself to reverse the position of the man and woman. His tale tells of the refusal of Glaucus to coun- tenance the lascivious advances of Scilla. No doubt Lodge knew Ovid's legend of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus. But he develops the woman Scilla's eager passion with a richness 34 VENUS AND ADONIS of detail, which is not found in Ovid's legend of Salmacis, and which Shakespeare's Fenus- and Jdonis^ alone in literature, seems to rival. To Lodge's Glaucus and Scilla Shakespeare's verse obviously owes much. Innumerable are the touches in which Venus's yearning appeals to Adonis, as told by Shake- speare, recall Scilla's yearning appeals to Glaucus, as told by Lodge. A comparison of the three following stanzas of Lodge with three stanzas of Shakespeare shows the manner of the latter's dependence on the former. Venus and Adonis. I. 8i9 And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans, That all the neighbour caves, as seeming troubled. Make verbal repetition of her moans ; Passion on passion deeply is redoubled : *Ay me!' she cries, and twenty times Vfos, woe i» And twenty echoes twenty times cry so. 1- 83/ . She marking them begins a wailing note And sings extemporally a woeful ditty ; How love makes young men thrall and old men dote; How love is wise in folly, fooHsh-witty : Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe. And still the choir of echoes answer so. Glaucus and Scilla. (597 Eccho l:er selfe when Scilla cried out, O loue ! With piteous voice from out her hollow den Rerurnd these words, these words of sorrow, (no, love) No loue (quoth she) then fie on traiterous men, Then fie on hope: then fie on hope (quoth Eccho) To everie word the nimph did answere so. I. 703 _ For euerie sigh, the rockes returne a sigh : For euerie teare their fountaines yield a drop; Till we at last the place approached nigh. And heard the nimph that fed on sorrowes sop Make woods, and wanes, and rockes, and hills admire, The wonderous force of her untam'd desire. The popu- larity of the six-line stanza. 1. 8+7 For who hath she to spend the night withal Bnt idle sounds resembling parasites. Like shrill-tongu'd tapsters answering every call. Soothing the humour of fantastic wits ? She says "Tis so : ' they answer all "Tis so;' And would say after her, if she said ' No.' 1. 709 Glaucus ((^uoth she) is faire: whilst Eccho sings Glaucus is faire : but yet he hateth Scilla The wretch repeats : and then her armes she wrings Whilst Eccho tells her this, he hateth Scilla. No hope (quoth she) : no hope (quoth Eccho) then, Then fie on men j when she said, fie on men. From whatever point of view Shakespeare's poem is examined there emerge manifest signs of its close association with the contemporary trend of literary endeavour in England as well as on the continent of Europe. It absorbed from all available quarters suggestions and ideas of many degrees of VENUS AND ADONIS ^y dignity. Shakespeare's genius transmuted most of his ingre- dients and fused them into a rich and consistent work of art. But the constituent elements deserve careful attention. The choice of metre is a final testimony to the young author's readiness to accept accessible guidance. The sixain or six- lined stanza, riming ababcc, which Shakespeare adopted, was among the commonest of all forms of verse in both English and French poetry of the sixteenth century. George Gascoigne, in his Certayne notes of Instruction concerning the making of verse or ryme in English (if7f), writes familiarly of exclusive property in Venus and Adonis. It is likely enough owner, that both he and his immediate predecessor Edward Wright ^f^\ '^' issued new editions, but no copies survive to confirm the suggestion ; and the two men have left small impression on the history of the book. There were thus eight formal transfers of the copyright of the poem with due payment of fees in the course of sixty- two years — a proof that the volume retained throughout that long period a marketable value in the sight of publishers. The authorized London editions numbered at least eleven ; a serious attempt was made to infringe the copyright in London in i<^o7, and there was a surreptitious issue at Edin- burgh in 1 527. In idjf a rough reprint was issued by The chap- book syndi- cate of 1 67 J. 48 VENUS AND ADONIS a London syndicate of chap-book publishers. That curious venture brings to a close the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century chapter of the bibliopolic history of the poem. The parent text. The mis- prints of The text of all the editions is based on the original version of 1^93. Each issue of subsequent date appears to reprint one or other of its near predecessors with more or less fidelity. The alterations are slight, and are due to the compositors or correctors of the press. Efforts to systematize the irregular spellings of the first issues and occasionally to remove grammatical solecisms account for most of the variations. But in a £qw instances new misprints or un- warrantable alterations in the order of words are introduced through the carelessness or presumptuous igTiorance of compositor or proof-corrector. How trifling and arbitraiy were the changes in the early editions, may be judged from the characteristic fact that in the inscription before the dedicatory epistle ' Wriothesl^^ ' in the 15-93 edition appears as 'Wriothesly' in the 1^94 edition, and as 'WriotheshV in the 1^9^ and many subsequent editions. On the whole, Field's text of 1 5-93 may be held to have adhered to Shakespeare's manuscript with reasonable closeness, but it presents defects of the sort which confutes the theory that Shakespeare himself corrected the proofs. The praises lavished on Field's press-work by Shakespearean critics of the first edition of J^e/tus and Adonis^ seem on a thorough examina- tion to require qualification. Misprints are £t^ j they do not exceed ten in all, and only one of them^ slight enough in itself, can cause the reader perplexity. In line i8y the present participle 'souring' is disguised under the unintelligible pair of words ' so wring '. The nine other misprints are ' Witin ' VENUS AND ADONIS ' ^^ for < Within' (23 f); {l9l)'-, *Ho' for drecht ' is reproduced as ^ ■Viiiili''if'r 11 t^'Vi it'll m'm't ia^ Vrw 'lY^ia'* i-w^ JM -^ i lumber-room. All were in good condition in contemporary- vellum binding, and in many cases the leaves were uncut. But the most interesting feature of this treasure-trove was the vellum-bound volume in perfect condition which sheltered within its covers Leake's edition of Fenus and Adonis dated 15-99, a copy of ^he Passionate Pil- grim published in the same year, and a copy of Epi- grammes and Elegies by I. D. and C. M. At Middlehorough. (The last pamphlet consisted of epi- grams by Sir John Davies, and cer- tain of Ovid's Ele- gies translated by Christopher Mar- lowe,and was issued in London — not, as stated,at Middle- borough — in all probability in 15-98.) This rare volume of tripli- cate interest was sold in the summer of 1895-, by Sir Charles I sham, to Mr. Christie Miller of Britwell Court, Maidenhead, together with much else that was valuable in the Lamport treasure- trove. The 15-99 edition oi Venus and Adonis^ which is now at Britwell, measures \\" x 3 f" ; the signatures run as before in eights from A to D iij ; and it consists of twenty-seven leaves. The text follows that of i5-9<^, but there are some VENUS AND ADONIS 6s ignorant variations of spelling. The ornaments on the title- Fourth page altogether differ from those employed by Harrison and edition, Field, and suggest that the printer whom Leake employed ^ ^^' was Peter Short. A typed facsimile, limited to an edition of 1 3 1 copies, was published by Messrs. Sotheran & Co. in 1870. Of a succeeding issue, only a single copy is again known Fifth to be extant. This copy, which lacks a title-page, is in edition, Malone's collection at the Bodleian Library (Malone 327). no. vili. It is bound up with a copy of Shakespeare's Lucrece^ which Bodleian has the imprint ' printed by I. H. for lohn Harison ' and the (^^'°"^) date idoo. The volume was a girt from Dr. Farmer to Malone, who collated it before March 24, 1785-, with the i j-pd edition, and drew up a manuscript list of thirty-nine changes, which is extant, but is not exhaustive.' A manuscript title- page which has been supplied to this edition of the Veims^ merely copies the Lucrece imprint (' printed by L H. for lohn Harison,' idoo). The date may be right, but the printer's and publisher's names are errors. John Harrison's con- nexion with the Fenus and Adonis had ceased with the transfer of the copyright in 15-97 to William Leake. The edition was doubtless published by Leake. It is of textual importance, for although it follows the typography of 15-99 there have been deliberately introduced several new misreadings, which are adopted in all subsequent editions of the seventeenth century. The measurements are \~" x ^~\ The signatures (A-D iij) in eights, and the number of leaves, which are unpaged, twenty-seven, are the same as in previous issues. A new — the sixth — edition was issued by Leake in ido2. Sixth It seems to have been set up, with reasonable care, from the edition, text of idoo. The curious printer's device, in a square scrolled frame on the title-page, shows a winged and laurelled skull surmounted by an hour-glass in front of an open book, inscribed 02. A comparison of the three does not support this allegation. A careful collation of the Earl o'i Macclesfield's copy, which was kindly lent to the British Museum by the Countess of Macclesfield for the purpose, with the British Museum copy, shows that the two are at all points identical in type, save for the punctuation on the title-page. The paper of the Bodleian copy is perhaps of a quality slightly inferior to that of the Museum and Macclesfield copies. 1 66 VENUS AND ADONIS Sixth Edition, i5oi. No. X. Bodleian copy, 1601. No. XI. Macclesfield copy, 1602, Prisoners — and therefore To bid the wind a Base, is by using the Language of yt sport To take the wind Prisoner.' The Bodleian copy of 1602 (8°. M 9, Art B S) bears the autograph signature of Robert Burton. It has been in the Library since 1^40, when it was forwarded in conformity with the clause of Burton's will : ' If I have any books the University Library hath not, let them take them.' ' This copy was the first edition of the poem to pass the portals of the Bodleian Library. That Burton was well acquainted with Fenus and Adonis is clear from a mnemonic quotation of four lines in his Anatomy of Melancholy (id2i).' Burton's copy is now bound up with five other tracts, only one of which was his property. The Venus comes second in the \'olume. Some of the leaves are uncut.^ The measurements The third surviving copy of the 1602. edition is in the library of the Earl of Macclesfield at Shirburn Castle, Oxfordshire. It has, like the Bodleian copy, the < colon ' title-page. It is a perfect copy in admirable preservation, and has been strongly bound in recent years by Hat ton of Manchester. It was probably acquired by the first Earl of Macclesfield, the Lord Chancellor, in the early part of the eighteenth century. The measurements are {' x y\" , There ' Macray's A?mals of the Bodleia?^^ 18^0, p. ^o. - Burton quotes the four lines from memory (ed. Shilleto, vol. iii, p. 79) thus : — ' When Venus ran to meet her rose-cheeked Adonis^ as an elegant Poet of ours sets her out, The bushes in the way Some catch her [by the] neck, some kiss her face. Some twine about her legs to make her stay, And all did covet her for to embrace.' (II. 871-4.) Burton's allusion to Shakespeare as ' an elegant Poet of ours ' is curious. He only seems to quote Shakespeare in two other places in his A7iatomy^ once from Lucrece^ 11. 6i'^-6 (vol. i, p. cji), and once from Rotneo a?id Juliet (vol. iii, p. ii6). Burton makes several other references to the story of Venus and Adonis, but only as it figures in classical authors. ^ The opening tract. The Devill of Mascon^from the Frevch (Oxford, i6^^), is not of much interest. But the third tract, Laneham's Letter^ concerning the Kenilworth Entertainment of 1 575, bears, like Ferns and Adonis, the auto- graph signature of ' Robtus Burton '. VENUS AND ADONIS 67 are traces of the existence of two other copies of this edition. Sixth In the Bagford collection of title-pages at the British Edition, Museum, there is a title-page which precisely corresponds ''^°'* with that of Lord Macclesfield's exemplar. The library of the great Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford, which the book- '! :1^''''" iOBeMMHiaMkMM seller Osborne dispersed in the middle years of the eighteenth century, contained very few early editions of Shakespeare's works, but the Catalogus Bibliothecae Harleianae (1743-)-) enu- merates among them a copy of Venus and Adonis dated ld02. I 2 Seventh Edition, 1617. No. XII. Bodleian (Caldecott) copy, 1617. 68 VENUS AND ADONIS A unique copy of the edition of 161 7 was included in Thomas Caldecott's bequest in 1 8 3 3 to the Bodleian Library ' (INIalonc 890). It bears the imprint 'Printed for W. B. 1617.' W. B. was William Barrett, the publisher or bookseller who VENVS ADONIS. f'iliamiretur vnlgm , mihijUtms Apfti^ FfiCftU CAjialiA^lcna minijiret aqua^ LONDON, Printed for /.i*» t(^o^ purchased the copyright of Leake in 161 7. The volume is a small octavo (47^" x 3-V' ) with the same signatures and the same number of leaves as its immediate predecessors. The text seems identical with that of 1602. ' Dycc in his edition of Shakespeare mentions an edition of the year 1616. There is no other trace of it, and Dycc may have been thinking in error of the edition of Lucrece of 1^16. VENUS AND ADONIS 69 A unique copy of the edition of 1620 — 'Printed for I. P.' eighth (i.e. John Parker) — is among the books left by Capell to edition. Trinity College, Cambridge. It is bound with a copy of The No^°xiir Passionate Pilgrim of iy99, which follows it. The volume Capell copy, belonged at one time to 'Honest Tom Martin' (1(^97-1771) '^^*^- of Palgrave, the historian of Thetford. At the end there is the note in old writing, ' Not quite perfect, see 4 or f leaves back : so it cost me but 3 Halfpence.' The measurements are 4^"x3y. It is a small octavo, faithfully reproducing the edition of i<^i7, although the title-page has the comma instead of the colon in the Latin quotation, as in the early impression of the ido2 edition (No. IX).' A special interest attaches to the edition of 1(^27, of ninth which two copies are now traceable. This edition was edition, printed not in London, but in Edinburgh, and is the first ^^^^^"'S*^' example of the printing outside London of any work of Shakespeare. The Edinburgh printer and publisher who undertook the venture was John Wreittoun, a man of sub- stance, Avith a shop, as he states on the title-page, 'a litle beneath the Salt Trone.' It is possible that the publisher's neighbour, Drummond of Hawthornden, the poet, who was an admiring critic of Shakespeare, suggested the venture.^ A copy of an early edition of the poem was in Drummond's library ' The erroneous statement of the Cambridge editors in their first edition {\%66) that a second copy of the i6zo edition was bought in 1839 for the Bodleian Library is corrected in their second edition (1895). The copy of Venus and Ado7tis bought in 1839 had no title-page and was for a time wrongly identified with the edition of \6^o. From that edition it differs materially. It more probably belongs to the year Kj^o (see No, XVII). - Wreittoun began business in i(^a^ ' at the Nether Bowe, Edinburgh'. He removed in \6x-i to 'the Salt Trone', where he made his reputation. There he seems to have remained till i(>36', when he retired from trade, after producing as many as fifty-six books. He died in 1^40. His wife, Margaret Kene, seems to have been sister of the second surviving wife of the weJl-known Edinburgh printer, Andro Hart (d. i6^xi), the friend and publisher of the poet Drummond of Hawthornden, who recommended his friend Drayton to publish with him. For my knowledge of Wreittoun's career I am mainly indebted to information kindly given me by Mr. J. P. Edmond, now Librarian to the Writers of the Signet at Edinburgh, and by Mr. H. G. Aldis, of the Cambridge University Library. 70 VENUS AND ADONIS Ninth Edition, before 16 ii. Wreittoiin apparently reprinted, with a few corrections of his own, Leake's edition of i6oz. The Cam- bridge editors needlessly conjecture that he derived his copy from a manuscript transcript of that edition. Although one or two changes are for the better, and accidentally correspond VENUS AND ADONIS 71 with the readings of the two earliest quartos, Wreittoun's Ninth text is defaced by many misprints of his own invention (cf edition, 'seaseth' (line 27) for 'seizeth'; < winkt, and turnde ' (90) '^'^' for 'winks, and turns 'j « rivals' (123) for 'revels 'j «thus' (2oy) for < this '; < relieue, the ' (48 0) for < relieveth '; 'screeks ' (5-3 1) for 'shrieks'; 'through' {967) for 'throng'^ 'their' (1040) for 'her'). The pages are numbered for the first time and the numbers run i to 4.6 (misprinted 47). Of the two extant copies of Wreittoun's volume one is No. xiv. in the British Museum, and the other is in the library of ^'^f- ^^"'• :Mr. Robert Hoe, of New York. The British Museum copy, '°^^' '*^'^' which measures y-^/' x 3I", is bound in calf It is in a soiled condition j the title is cropped and inlaid, and several leaves are repaired. It was at one time the property of George Chalmers, whose book-plate is preserved in it. It was sold at Chalmers' sale (pt. ii, no. ^5-8) in 1842, for £^7 I OS, od.^ the catalogue giving the wrong date, 1607. Benjamin Heywood Bright was the purchaser ^ at the sale of his books in 1845- (no. yodS) it was called ' unique'; it was then bought for £1 s for the British Museum. The second copy, now in the library of Mr. Robert Hoe, No. xv. of New York, is a far finer copy than that in the British "°^ '"pJ^' Museum, and is 'the only perfect copy known'. It is in '^'^' the original vellum binding with uncut leaves. A preliminary leaf signed ' A ' has an ornamental border near the top, but is otherwise blank. This leaf does not appear in the British Museum copy. Mr. Hoe's copy was discovered in a worthless lot of books by a bookseller, at a country sale in 18(^4. It was sold in London, at Sotheby's, in March of that year, and bought by Pickering, the London bookseller, for ^i i y. Picker- ing made it over to Almon W. Griswold, of New York, some time after whose death it was secured by the present owner.' An edition of 16^0 was 'Printed by J[ohn] H[aviland] Tenth and sold by Francis Coules '. Only a single copy is known, ^^^tion, It was formerly the property of Anthony a Wood, and was Na°xvi. ' Cf. Robert Hoe's Catalogue of EarJy English Books, New York, 1904, f^}^A\ vol. iv, p. 105, with facsimile of title-page. ' ^ ^' %7,%o. 72 VENUS AND ADONIS Tenth Edition, 1^30. Eleventh Edition, 1630 ? No. XVII. Bodleian (Malone) copy, 1 530. Twelfth Edition, 1636. No. XVIII. Brit. Mas. copy, 1636. No. XIX. Pciiy copy, 16^6. lately removed from the Ashmolean Museum to its present home, the Bodleian Library (Wood yc^y It measures 4I" X 3 //', and there is a device on the title-page of Cupid throwing down his bow. This edition was reprinted early in the eighteenth century. In one impression of Lintott's edition of Shakespeare's Poems which appeared in 1710 it was stated that Ve/nis and Adonis was there printed from an edition of I (^3 o. A title-page was given bearing that date, and a printer's device with the motto *Sua Laurea Phoebo'.' To the same year (1530) is assigned an imperfect copy (lacking the title-page) of a slightly differing impression, which is also in the Bodleian Library (Malone 891). It measures 47-^" X 2-^". A title-page, which is supplied in manuscript, suggests the date of 1(530. The text is not identical with the perfect copy of that year, but it was clearly based on that edition. It was known, too, to the printer of the succeeding edition o^ 1616. It must therefore be dated between 1(^30 and the latter year. Haviland's third edition appeared in 16^6 again, W^''^^ ^ y%. I LONDON Tmprinted by Richard Field , and arc to be fold .u the fignc of the white Grevhound in Paulcs Church-yard. TO THE RIGHT HON OPv ABLE Henrie VVriothefley^Earle of Southampton, :uid Barcn of Titchficld, Ight Honour die , / hnov^ net her; I ihaUoffendin dedicating my vnpoiisbt lines tojcuYLordshib/ior how the norlde will cenfaremee for choojingjo Jlrong aproppe to fupport fo vz-eake a burthen ^ onelye if y cur Honour feeme lut p leafed^ I ac- count myfelfe highly praifed, and vo>ye to take .idu:.r.t>tgecf all idle hcuresjtilll bane honcurcdycu vz-ith fomegrauer labour. But if the fir si heire of my inuer.tionproue deformed^I [hall l?e forfeit hadfo noble a godfather : and neuer after eare fo barren a land, forfeare ityeeldmefxillfo had a h.truefi , 1 leaueit to your Honou- rable furuey, and ycur Honor to your hearts content ,i"vhich I n i[h may ^Ivvaies anfvv ere your ovvncvzifljiOndthe worlds hopc^ fuliexpeclation. Your Honors in all dutiCj William Shakcfpcarc VENVS AND ADONIS. EV E Nf as the funnc with purplc-colourd face, Had tanc his lafi: Icaue of the weeping morne, Rofe- chcekt Adonis hied him to the chace, Hunting he lou'd, but loue he laught to Tcornc : Sick-thoughted Venus makes amalnevnto him, And like a bold fac'd futcr ginncs to woo him, Thrife fairer then my fclfe, (thus (lie began) The lieldschiefe flov/er, fwcet abouc compare, Staine to all Nimphs^more louely then a man, More white, and red^then doucs^orrofcs are: Nature that made thee with her fclfe at ftrife, . Saithdiat the world hath ending with tl^^lifc. Vouchfafe thou wonder to alight thy ftced, Andrainc his proud head to the fiddle bow. If thou wilt dainc this fauor, for thy meed A thoufind honic fecrcts ihalt thou know : Here come and fit, whsrcneuerferpenthiflcs, And being fet,lle (mother thee with kilfcs. B 11. i8 I- veNvs and adonis. And yet not cloy thy lips with loth'd (acietic, But rather familh them amid their picntic, Making them red, and pale, with frclh varietic; Ten kiires Ihort as one, one long as twcntic: A fommers day will fcemc an hourc but lliort, Being wafted in fuch time- beguiling (port. With this flic ccazcth on his fweating palmc, Theprefidcntofpith, andliuclyhood, And trembling in her paflfion, calls it balmc, Earths fbueraignc faluc, to do a goddcflc good, Being (o enrag'd, dcfirc doth lend her force, Couragioufly to pluckc him from bib horle. Ouer one armc thcluftie courfers rainc, Vnder her other was the tender boy, V Vho bluQitjand powtcd in a dull difdainc, With leaden appetite, vnapt to toy, She red, and hot, as coles of glowing ficr, Hcrcdfor(liamc,butfrofticindeficr. The ftudded bridle on a ragged bough, Nimbly {he faftens,(6how quickc islouc !) The fteedisO:alledvp,andcucn now, To tie therider iiic begins to prouc : Backward ihc pulht him, as (he would be thruft-, And goucrnd him m ftrcngth though not in luft. So 11. 19—42 ■'Xr\ VENVS AMD ADONIS. So foonc was (he along, as he was dov/ne, Each leaning on their elbowes and dicirhips: Now doth Ihc ftrokc his cheek, now doth he frown, And gms to chide, but foone (he (lops his lips, And kidlng fpeaks,with luftful language broken. If thou wilt chide, thy Jips (hall neuer open. He burnes x\ith badifull ftame^nie with her tcares Doth quench the maiden burning ofhis cheekes, Then with her windic ilghes, and golden hcares/ To fan, and blOw them drie againe Ihc fcekcs. He faith, (he is immodeft, blames her milTc, V Vhat followes more, (he murthcrs with a kifTe. Euen as an emptic Eagle (harpe by faft. Tires with her bcake on feathers, fle(h,and bone, . Shaking herwings^ deuouringall inhaf}, Till either gorge be (luft, or pray begone ; Euen (o (he kift his brow, his cheeke,his chin, And where (lie ends, ihc doth anew begin. Forft to content, but neuer to obey. Panting he lies, and brcatheth in her face. She fccdeth on the (teame, as on a pray, And calls it hcauenlymoi(lure, aire of grace, V Viihing her cheeks were gardens ful pfflov/ers, So they were dew'd with fuch diftilling fliow crs. B ij 11. 43-66 VENVS AND ADONIS. Lookc how a bird lycs tangled in a net. So faftned in her armcs Adonis lyes, Pure lliame and aw'd refinance made him frcr, Which bred more beautic in his angric eyes: Raine added to a riucr that is rankc, Perforce will force it ouerflo w the bankc. Still (lie intrcats, and prettily intreats. For to a prcttie earc (he tunes her tale. Still is he fullcin, ftill he lowrcs and frets, Twixtcrimfonihame, and anger afliie pale, Being red (he loues him beft, and being w hit?, Her bed is bcttcrd with a more delight. Lookc how he can, (he cannot chufe but loue, And by her faire immortall hand ihe fwcarcs. From his foft bofbme neucrtorcmoue, Till he take truce with her contending teares, Which I6ghaucraind,makinghercheeksal wet, And one fwect kiflc Ihal pay this compdefTe debt. Vpon this promife did he raife his chin, Lilcc a diuedappcr peering through a wauc. Who being lookt on, ducks as quickly in: So offers he to giuc what (lie did craue, But when her lips were readie for his pay, He winks., and tumcs his lips another way. Ncucr 11. 67 — 90 VENVS AND ADONIS. Ncucrdidpaffcngcrin.fommcrshcar, More thirll for drinkc^then fhc for this good turnc, Her hclpc file fccs^buthclpc ihc cannot i?cr, She bathes in watcrj yet her fire mud burnc: Oh piticgan llie eric, flint hearted boy, Ti s but a kifTc 1 bcggc, why art tliou coy > I hauc bene wooed as I intrcat thee now^ Euen by the flcrne,and direfuJl god ofwarre, V Vholc finov, ic necke in battel! ncrc did bow, X Vho conquers w here he comes in eueric iarre, \ ct hath he bene my CL,ptii;e,and my llauc, Andbcgdforthatvh'ch dr?uvnaskt Ihalthaue. Ouer my Altars ha:h he h dpi^ his launce. His battrcd ihicld, his vncontrolled creil, And for my fake harh learnd to f}^ort,and dauncc, To tovjto \s anton,dallie,fmile,and iell:, Scorning liis churlilli drummc,and enfi^ne red. Making my amies his field, his tent my bed. Tims he that ouer- ruld, I ouer- {\vaycd, Lcadinghimprioncrinarcd rolcchainc, Strong temperd (leclc his ftronger ftrength obaycd. Yet was he feruilc to my coy difdainc, Oh be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, Formaiftring her that foyld the god of fight, B ii; 11. 91— 114 VENVS AND ADONflS. Touch but my lips withthofc fairc lips of thine, • Though mine be not io faire, y et are they red, The kifl'cilialbc thine ownc as well as mine, What feed thou in the ground ? hold vp thy head, Looke in mine ey-balsjthere thy beautic lycSy Then why not lips on lips,fince eyes in eyes > ArtthouailianVdtokifTc? thenwinke againe. And I will winkcj Co (hall tl^ day fecme night. Louc keepcs his rcuels where tliere are but twainc: Be bold to play, our fport is not in fight, Thefeblew-veind violets whereon we Icane, Neuer can blab,nor know not what wc mcanc. The tender fjKinc;vpon thy tempting lip, Shewes thee vnripe^ yet maid thou w ell be tafted, Make vfeoftimCjlcr not aduantai^e flip, Beautic within it felfeihould not be wafted, Fairc flowers that are not gathred in their prime, I\ otjand confumc them (clues in lide time. VVerelhard-fauourcfjfoulejOrwrinckledold, 11-nurtur'd, crooked, churlilh, harfli in voice, Orc-v/orne, defpifcd, reumatique, and cold. Thick- fighted, barren, lean c, and lac king iuycc j The mightft thou paufc,forihe I w ere not forthcc, B ui hauing no dcfeas,why docft abhor me ? Thou 11. 115— 138 VENVS AND ADONIS. • Thou canfl not fee one wrinckle in my brow, ?/line eyes are grey^and bright, & cjuicke in turning: My bcaude as the fpring doth yearchc grow, Aly flelh is fbft^and plumpe, nny marrow burning, My {inoothmoifthand,wcrc it with thy hand felt, V Vould in thy palmc didoluc^or feemc to melt. Bid me difcourfe, I will inchaunt thine care, Or Hke a Fairic, tiip vpoa the greene, Or hke a Nimph, with long dilhcueled heare, Dauncc oni he fands, and yet no footing feene. LoLie is afpirit all compad ofiire, Not grollc to finkc, but light;, and w ill a/pirc, VVitncirethisPrimrofebankewIicreonllic, '■ Thereforcclefle flowers like (lurd / treesfupport me: Two Ilrcgchles doues will draw mc through thdskie, Frommorne'till night, cuen.where I lift to (port mc. Is loue lo lif^ht Iv.eet boy, and may irbc, That thou ihouldthinke it heauievntothe^.? Is thine owne heart to thine owne face affecled ? Can thy right hand cearx louc vpon thy left ^ Then woe thy felfe,be of thy felfc reie^ed : Steale thine ownfreedome,and complaine on theft* • NarcilTus fo him iclfe him felfc forfooke, And died to kiffe his. fnadow in the brookc* II. 139—162 VENVS AND ADONIS. Torches arc made to light, icwcls to wcarc, Dainties to taft, frcih beautic for the vfc, Herbcs for their Irncll, and fappic plants to bcarc. 1 hinqs arowingtothcrn fclucs, arc growths abufc. Seeds fprin^ tro ^eed^36^: beauty brecdeth beauty, Thou waft begotj to get it is thy duty. Vpon the earths increafe why lliouldft thou feed, Vnlcfle the earth with thy increalc be fed c* By law of nature thou art bound to breed, That thine may liuCjwhen thou thy fclfe art dead: And fo in fpite of death thou doeft furuiue, In that thy likencfle dill is left aliue. By this the loue-fickc Queene began to fweatc. For where they lay the fhadow^ had forfooke them, And Titan tired in the midday heate, Y Vith burning eye did hotly ouer-Iookc them, V Vilhing Adonis had his te.amc to guide, So he were like him, and by Venus fide. And now Adonis with a laxie fpritc, And v/ith a hcauic, darkc, difliking eye, His low ring browes orc-w helming his faire fight. Like miiHc vapors w hen they blot the skic, So wring his cheekes,crics,fic,no more oflouc, The lunnc doth burnc my face I muft rcmouc. 11. 163—186 VENVS AND ADONIS. Ay, mc, (quoth Venus) young, and fo vnkindc, V Yhat bare cxcufcs mak'ft ihou to be gon ? He (igh celcftiall breath, whofc gentle winde, Shall coolc the hcate of this defcending fun: He make a lliadow for thee of my heares, If they burn too,lle quench ihcm with my tcares. The fun that fliines from heauen , fliinei but warmc, And lo I lye betweene that funne ,and thee : The heate I hauc from thence doth litle harme. Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth mc, And were I not immortall, life were done, Betweene this hcauenly,and earthly funne. Art thou obdurate, flintic, hard as ftdolc ? Nay more then fiinr, for flone at raincrelenteih: . Art thou a womans fonne and canll: not feele VVhattistoloue,howwantoflouetormenteth? O had thy mother borne lo hard a minde, She had not broughtforth thee, but died vnkind. What am I that thou (houldft contemne me this ? Or what s^reat danger, dw els vpon my fute ? What were thy lips the worfe for one poorc kis ? Spcakc fi\ircjbut fpeake fairc w ords^or clfc be mute: GiucmeonckiffejUcgiucitthecagaine, And one for intrcfl-, if thou wilt haDc twaine. C 11. 187—210 VENVS AND ADONIS. Fie, liucIefTe pi^flurc, cold, and fcnceleffe ftonc, Well painted idoll, image dull, and dead, Statue contencinfT but the eye alone. Thine like a man,but of no woman bred: Thou art no man, though of a mans complexion, For men will kifle c\icn by thvirownc direction. This faid, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, Andrwcllingpaffiondothprouokeapaufe, Red,<:heeks, andfierie eyes blaze forth her wrong: Being ludge in loue, the cannot right her caufe. And now the weeps,& now (he fainc would fpeakc And now her fobs do her intendments breakc. Sometime Ih? (hakes her head, and then his hand, Now^ gazcth (lie on him, now on the ground ^ Sometime her armes infold him like a band. She would, he will not in her armes be bound : And when from thence he fl:ru[>glcs to be goncj She locks her lillie fiii^crs one in one. ' Fondling, Hie (aith,fince I haue hcmd thee here VVithin the circuit ofthisiuorie pale, - lie be a paike, and thou (halt be my dcarc: Feed where thou wilt, on mountainc,or in dale- Graze on my lips, and ifthofc hils be drie, Stray lo\rcr, where the p'caK^iu fonntaines He. VVithii 11. 211 — 234 VENVS AND ADONIS. V Vitin this limit is rcliefe inough, Sweet bortomcgraffe, and high delightfpll plaine. Hound ridnghiliocks^brakesobrcure^androucrh, Tojlieltcr thee from tcmpeO,arid from ramc : i hen he my deare^ firxc J am fuch a parke. No dog [hal rowze thee.though a dioufand bark. At this Adonis fmiles as in difdainc, That in cch chccke appcarcs a prettie dimple ; Loue made thofe holiowes , if him Mk were llaine. He might be buried in a tombe fo fimplc, Foreknov. ing well, if there he came to lie, VVhytherclouehudj&itherehccouldnotdie. Thcfc lonely caues, thefc round incl>anting pits, Opcnd their mourhes to fwallow Venus liking : Being rnad l^clore, how doth ihe now for wits? Strucke acad at firll^ w hat needs a fecond ftriking > Poorc (.Viicene of louCjin thine own law forlorne, To loue a chcckc that fmiles at thee in fcornc. Now which wavfliall Ihe turne ?whatfca]lftiefay?^ Her V. ords arc done, her woes the more increafingj The time is fpent, her obiedt will away, And ftom her twining atmes doth vrgc releahng: Pitic 11 ic cries, iomc fauoiir,fome remorfe, Away he rpring5,andhaflcthtohis'lK)rre. C i) 4 11. 235—258 VENVS AND AQONIS; But lo from forth a copp's that neighbors by, A breeding Icnnct, luftic, young, and proud, Adonis tramphngCourfcr doth cfpy: And forth the ruihes, ihortSjand neighs aloud. The ftrong-neckt (Iced being tied vnio a tree, Brcakcth his rainc,and to her ilraight goes hcc. Imperioufly he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, And now his wouen ginhes he breaks afunder, The bearing earth whh his hard hoofe he wounds, V Vhofe hollow wombe refounds like heauens thun- The yron bit he cruiheth twecne his teeth, (dcr, Controlling what he was controlled with. His cares vp prickt,his braided hanging mane Vpon his compaftcrcft now fland on cndy His noftrils drinkc the aire, and forth againc As from a fornace, vapors doth he (end : His eye which fcorntully gliders likcfire, Shewes his hotc courage, and his high dcfirc. Sometime he trots, as if he told the (Icps, VVith gentle maicftic^and modeft pride, Anon he reresvprighr,curuets, and leaps. As who (hould fay, lo thus my rtrcngth is tridc. And this I do, to captiuatc the eye, Ofthcfairc breeder that is (landing by. What 11. 259 — 282 VENVS AND ADONIS.' What reckctli he his riders angric ilurfc, HistiattcringholIa,orhis(l:and,Ifa:y, What carcshc now, forcurbc, or pricking fpurre, For rich capp.ri(bns, or trappings gay : He fees his Joue, and nothing cile he fees, For nothing clCc with his proud fight agrees. Looke when a Painter would furpaffe th z h'fe, Inhmmingoutawell proportioned deed, His Art with Natures workmaniliip atftrife, As ifthc dead the liuingfliould exceed: So did this Horfe exccll a common one, In lliape, in courage, colour, pace and bone. Round hooftjtliort ioynted, fetlocks (hag, and long, Broad breail, full eye, fmall head,and noiirill wide. High cred, (liort eares,ftraight Iegs,&pafring ftr6g> Thin mane,thicke taile,broad buttock, tender hide* Looke what a Horfe Ihould haucjhe did not lack, Sauc a proud rider on fo proud a back. • Sometime he feuds farre off,aud there he ftares, Anon he darts, at durring of a feather; ' To bid the wind a bafc he now prepares, And where he runnc, or flie,they know not w hethcr: For through his manei Or being early pluckt,is fewer to tafl. Looke the worlds comforter with wearie gate^ His dayes hottaskc hath ended in the well. The ov'lc (nights herald) ilireeks, tis verie late, Th:ilieene are gone to foldj birds to their neft, Aid cole-black clouds^that lliadow hcauens lighr. Do fumraoa vs to part, and bid good night. Now let me fay goodiiightjand fo fay you, Ifyou will fay fo, you (hall hauc a kisj Goodnight (quoth ihe) and erche^yes aduc, The honie fee of parting tcndred 1.5^ Her armcs do lend his necke a fweet imbracc, Incorporate then they fceme^facc growes to face. 1 ill brcathWfc he difioyndj and backward drew, The hcanenly moifliire thatfv/eetcorall mouth, V Vhofe precious taft, her thirflie-iips well knew, Whereon they furfet,yct complainc on drouth, He with her plcntic prcrt;, the flint with dearth. Their lips together glcvcd, fall to the earth. 11. 523-^546 VENVS AND ADONIS. Now quicke dcfire hath caught the ycelding pray^ And gluttonlike (he feeds, yet neuerfilleth, Her hps arc conquerers, his lips ohay, Paying what ranfome the infultcr willeth : V Vhofe vultur thought doth pitch the price fo hie. That flic will draw his lips rich treafure drie. And hauing felt the fwcctnelTe of the fpo ilc, with blind foldfurie flie begins to forr age, Her face doth reekej^ fmoke^her blood doth boile, And carelelTe luft ftirs vp a defperat courage, Planting obliuion, beating reafbn backc, Forgetting ihames pure blufli,6i honors wracke. Hot, faint, and wcarie, with her hard imbracing, Like a wild bird being tam'd with too much hadling. Or as the fleet-foot Roe that's tyfd with chafing, Or like the froward infant ftild with dandling: He now obaycs, and now no more refiftcth, While flie takes all ihc caiij not all ftie lifteth. What waxe fo frozen but diflblues with tempring. And ycelds at laft to euerie liehtimpreiTion ? Things out of hope, arc compafl: oft with ventring, Chiefly in loue, whofc leauc exceeds commiflion : AffccliOnfeints not like a pale-fac'd-coward, But the wOcs bctt,whJ mdft his choice isfroward. 11- 547—570 VENVS AND ADONIS. When he did frowne^ohad (he then gaue oucr, Such nedar from his lips five had notfuckt, FouIe\vordeS5andfrownes3muftnotfepellalouer, V Vhat though the rofc haue prickles, yet tis pluckt; Were beautievndertwentie locks kept faft, Yet loue breaks through^& picks them all at laf}. For pittie now ihe can no more detaine him. The poorefoolc praies hertha; he may depart, She is refolu'd no longer to reftraine him. Bids him farewell^and looke well to her hart, The which by Cupids bow (he doth protcft, He carries thence incaijed in his brell:. S wect boy flie /aies,this night ile waft in forrow, Formyfick heart commands mine eyes to watch, Tell mc loues maifterjlhall we meete to morrow, Sayjrna]lwe,ihallwc3wiltthoum;.lvethematch? He tells her no^to morrow he intends. To hunt the boare with ccrtaine of his frends. The boare ( quoth ilie) whereat a fuddain pale. Like lawne being fpred vpon the biufcing rofe, Vfurpes her chceke^llie trembles at his tale, AndonhisneckheryoakingarmcsilicthrQ>ve$^ She fmcketh downe,ftiIl hanging by his necke, He on her belly fall'.sylic on her backe, E 11- 571—594 VENVS AND ADONIS, Nov/ is (lie in the vcric lifts oflouc, Her champion mounted for the hot incounter. All is imaginaric (he doth proue, tf e will not mannagc her, although he mount her. That worfc then Tantalus is-her annoy, To clip Elizium, and to lacke her ioy. Eucn (b poorc birds dccciuM with painted grapes, Do furfet by the eye, and pine the maw : Euen To (he languilhcth in her mifhaps, As thofc poorc birds that helplcfle berries faw, The warm e effeds which the in him finds nufling, She feekes to kindle with continual! kiffing. But all in vainc^good Queene,it will not bee, She hath aflai'd as much as may be prou'd, Her pleading hath deferu'd a greater fee, She's loue^ Ihe loues, and yet ihe is not lou'd. Fie, fie, he faies, you crulh me, let me go, You haue no reafon to withhold me fo. Thou hadft bin gone(quothlhe)fwect boy ere this, But that thou toldft me, thou woldft hunt the boarc, Oh be aduifdjthouknow'ft next what it is. With iauelings point a churHlh fwincto goarc, VVhofctulhes neuer iheathd, he whetteth ftill, Like to a mortall butcher bent to k'U, On u. 595-618 VENVS AND ADONIS. On his bow backc, he hath a battcll fer, Of briflv pikes that cucr threat his foes. His eyes likeglow-v/ormcs lhine,v. hen he doth frci His fnout Jigs fepiilchcrs where ere he goes, Being mou'd he ftrikcs, w hat ere is in his way, And whom he flrikes.his crooked tuihcs flav. His brawnie fides with hairic brifUcs armed, Arc better proofe then thy fpearcs point can enter. His {liort thick necke cannot be eafiJy harmed* Being ircfulljon the lyon he will venter^ The thornie bramblcs^and imbracing buHies, As fearcfull of him part^through whom he ruflies. Alasjhc naught eftecm's that face of thine. To which loues eyes paies tributarie gazes, Nor thy (oft handes/weet HpSjand chriftall einc, V Vhofe full perfcv^ion all the world amazes. But hauing thee at vantagc(wondrous dread!) Wold roote thcfc beauties,as he root's the mead. Oh let him keep his loathfome cabin ftill, Beautic hath nanght to do with iiichfoulc fiends, Come not within his danger by thy \\ ill. They that thriue well^take counfcll of their friends. When thou didft name the boare,notto diifcblc, Ifeard ihy fortunc^aud my ioynts did tremble, Eij 11. 619 642 VENVS ANDl ADONIS. Didft thou not markc my face, was it not white ? Saweft thou not figncs of fcare lurke in minc]eye ? Grew I not faint, and fell I not downe right ? V Vithin my bofomc whereon thou doclt lye, My boding heart, pants, beats,and takes no red. But like an carthquake,{liakes thee on my breft. For where loue raignes, difturbing iealoufic, Doth call him felfe atfcclions centinell, Giuesfalfe alarmcs, fuggefteth mutinie. And in a peacefull houre doth crie, kill, kill, Diftempring gentle loue in his defire, As aire, and water do abate the fire. This fowcr informer, this batc-brecding fpic. This canker that eates vp loues tender fpring, Thisxarry-talejdiffentiousiealoufie, That (bmtime true newes,fomtime falfe doth bring, Knocks at my heart,and whifpcrs in mine earc, That if I loue thee^ I thy death ftiould feare. And more then fo, prefenteth to mine eye, T he pidurcofanangrie chafing boare, Vnder whofc diarpe fangS5on his backe doth lye, An image like thy felfe, all Itaynd with goare, whofc blood vpon the freili flowers being (lied, • Doth make the droop with griefj^ hang the hed. what 11. 643—666 VENTS AND ADONIS. What (hould I do, fccingthcc fo indeed ? That tremble at th'imagination, The thought of It doth make my faint heart bleed, And fcare doth teach it diuination 5 I prophecie thy death, my liuing (brrow, If thou incounter with the boare to morrow. But If thou needs wilt hunt, be rui'd by me, Vncouple at the timerous flying hare, Or at the foxe which Hues by fubtiltie, Or at the Roe which no incounter dare : Purfucthcfefcarfull creatures o're the downes, And on thy wcl breathd horfe keep w ith thy houds And when thou hafl on foote the purblind hare,- Markc the poore wretch to ouer-iliut his troubles, How he outruns the wind, and with what care, He crankcs and erodes with a thoufand doubles. The many mufits through the w hich he goes. Are like a laberinth to amaze his foes. Sometime he runncs among a Hocke offheepe^ To make the cunning hounds miftakc their fmell, And fbmetime where earth-deluing Conies kecpc, To ftop the loud purfuers in their yell : And lomctlmc fbrteth with a heard of deare, Danger deuifcthfliifts, wit waites on fearc. E nj 11. 667 — 690 SS4 VENVS AND ADONIS. For there his fmell with others being mingled, Thehocfent-fnuffinehoundsarcdriucntodoubt^ Ccafing their clamorous cry, till they haucfinglcd With much ado the coid fault cleanly out. Then do they fpend their mouth*s,eccho replies. As if an other chafe were in the skies. By this poorc wat farrc off vpon a hill. Stands on his hinder-legs with liftning care, To hearken if his foes purfuc him ftill, Anon their loud alarums he doth heare, And now his griefe may be compared v/ell, To one fore ficke, that heares the paffing bell. Then (lialtthou fee the deaw-bedabblcd wretch, Turne, and returne, indenting witii the way, Ech cnuious brier, his wearie legs do fcratch, Ech (hadow makes him flop, ech murmour flay, Formiferie is trod en on by manie, And being low, neuer relecu'd by anie. Lye quietly, and heare a litle more, Nay do not ilrugglc,for thou Ihait not rife, To make thee hate the hunting of the bore, Vnlike my felfe thou hear'ft me moralize. Applying this to that, and fo to fo. For louc can comment vpon cueric wo. Where 11. 691 — 714 VENVS AND ADONIS. V Vhere did I Icaue ? no matter where(i]uoth he) Leaiic me, and then the ftoric aptly ends, The night is fpcnt , why v. hat of that (quoth (he ?) I am (quoth he) expedcd of my friends, And now tis darke, an^^ going I fliall fall. In night (quoth flic) defire fees bed of all. But if thou fall, oh then imagine this, Th e earth in loue with thee, thy footing trips^ And all is but to rob thee of a kis, Rich prayes make true-men thceues : fo do thy lips Makcmodeft Dyan, cloudic and forlornc. Left (he (hould fteale a kifle and die forfwornc. Now of this darke night I percciue the reafon, Cinthia forilianie, obfcures hcrfilucr fninc, Till forging nature be condem.n'd of treafbn, For ftealing moulds from heauen , that were diuine, V Vhcriii llic fram'd thee,in hie hcauens de/pight, To ihame the funne by day, and her by night. And therefore hath flie brib'dthe deftinies. To crofle the curious workmanftiip of nature, To mingle beautie with infirmities, And pure perfection with impure defeature, Making it fubied to the tyrannic,' Of mad mifchances, and much mifcric. 11- 715—738 VENVS AND ADONIS. As burning fcaucrs, agues pale, and faint, Life-poyfoning pcftilencc, and frcndzies wood, The marrow-eating ficknefTc whofe attaint, Difordcr breeds by heating ofthe blood, Surfets,impofl:umes,gricfe, and damnd difpaire, Svv earc natures death, for framing thee fo fair^. And not the Icaft of all thefe maladies, But in one minutes fight brings beautie vnder. Both fauour, fauour, hew, and qualities, Whereat the th'impartiall gazer late did wonder. Arc on the (iidden wafted, thawedjand donnc, As mountain fnow melts With the midday fonne. Therefore defpight of fruitlcite chaftitie, Loue-lackingveftals, and felfe-louingNuns, That on the earth would breed a (carcitie. And barraine dearth ofdaughcersjand of funs; Be' pTodigall, the Limpe that burncs by night, Dric^Vp hisoylcjto lend the world, his light. What is thy bodie but a fwallowinggrauc, SeemitH^to burie that pofteritie. V V hich by the rights of tim,p thou needs muft hauc, If thou deftf oy them not in darke obfcuritic ? If fo the world will hold thee in difdainc, Siih in thy pride, fofaire a hope is flainc. So 11- 739—762 VENVS AND ADONIS. So in thy fclfe, thy fcifc art made away, Amifchicfcworle then ciuill home-bred (Irifc, Or theirs whofc defperat hands them felues do flay, Or butcher fire, that reaues his fonne of hfe: Foulc canki ing rull,the hidden trcafurc frets, But gold that's put to vfc more goldbcgeis. Kay then (quoth Adon) you will fall againc, Intoyour idlcouer-handledtheame, The kifTe I gaue y ou is beftow'd in vainc, And all in vaine you (Iriuc againft the ftreamc, For by this black-fac't nightjdcfires foule nourfc^ Your treatife mak es me like you,worfe & worfe. If loue haue lent you twentie thoufand tongues, And cuerie tongue more mouing then yourownc, Bewitching like the wanton Marmaids fongs, Yet from mine earethe tempting tune is blowne. For know my heart ftands armed in mine care, And will not let a falic found enter there . Lefl the deceiuing harmonie fliouldronne, Into the quiet clofure of my brcft. And then mv litle heart were quite vndonc, In his bed-chamber to be bard of reft. No Ladic no, my heart longs not to gronc, But fouiidly flecps, while now itflecps alone. F 11. 763—786 veNvs and adonis. What hauc you vrg'd, that I can not rcprouc ? The path is fmooth that leadcth on to danger, I hate not lone, but your deuifc in loue. That lends imbracements vnto euery ftranger, You do it for increafe, 6 ftraunge excufe ! V Vhen reafon is the bawd to lufts abufe. Call it not louc, for loue to hcauen is fled, Sincefweatinglufton earth vfurpt his name, Vnder whofe fimple femblance he hath red, Vpon frefiibeautie, blotting it with blarney V Vhich the hot tyrant ftaines,5r foone bereaues: As Caterpiilers do the tender ieaues» Louc comforteth like fun-Hiine after raine, But lufts cSq^ Is tempeft after funne, Loues gentle fpring doth alwayes frelli remainc, Lufts winter comes, ere fommer halfe be donn^ : Loue furfets not, luft like a glutton dies : Louc is all truth, luft full of forged lies. More I Gould tell, but more I dare not fay, The text is old, the Orator too greene, Therefore in fadneffe, now I will away, My face is full of fliamc, my heart of teenc, Mine cares that to your wanton talke attended, Do burne them felucs, for hauing fo oftended» VVith 11. 787—810 VENVS AND ADONIS. With this he brcaketh fronuhc fwcet embrace, Of thofefaire armes which bound him to herbreft, .And homeward through the dark lawnd runs apace, Leaues loue vpon her backe^ deeply diftrefl-, Looke how a bright ftar fhooteth from the skye^ So glides he in the night from Venus eye. Which after him (lie dartes,as one onfhorc Gazing vpon a late embarkedfriend, Till the wilde waues will hauc him feene no more, V Vhofe ridges withthe meeting cloudes contend: So did the mercile(le,and pitchie night, Fold in the obied that did feed her fight. V Vhereat amafd as one tliat vnaware, Hath dropt a precious iewcll in the flood. Or fl:onilht,as night wandrers often are, j Their light blowne out in fome miftrufrfull wood^ Euen fo confounded in the darkefhelay,: ^ ' -' Hauingloftthcfairedifcoucricofherway. And now flie beates her heart,whereat it grones, That all rhe neighbour caucs asfeeming troubled. Make verball repetition qf her mones, PaiTion on paflion,deeply is redoubled, Ay rae,lhe crics,and twcntie times,wo,w^o. And twentie ccchoes,twentie times crieib, Fij 11. 81I--834 VENVS AND ADONIS. She marking them, begins a wailing note, Andfings cxtcmporally a wofull dittie, Howloucmakesyong-men thrall, & old men dote, How loue is wife in foUie, foolilh wittie: Her heauie anthcme ftill concludes in v/o, And ftill the quier of ccchoes anfwcr fo. Her fong was tedious,and out-wore the night, For louers hourcs are long, though feeming Ihort, If pleafd themfelucs, others they thinke delight. In fuch like cir cumftancc, with fuch like fport: Their copious ftories oftemiincs begunne. End without audience, and are neuer donne. For who hath (he to fpend the night widiall, But idle founds refembling parafits ? Like fhrill-tongu'dTapfters anfwering cucric call, Soothing the humor of fantaftique wits. She faycs tis fb, they anfwer all tis fo. And would fay after her, if (he faid no. Lo-here the gentle larke wearie of reft, Fromitts moyft cabinet mounts vp on hie. And wakes the morning, from whofc filuer brcR:, The funne arifeth in his maieftic. Who doth the world fo glorioufly behold, That Ceader tops and hils , fecme burnillit gold. Venus 11. 835-858 TENVS AND ADONIS. Venus falutes him with this fairc good morrow, Oh thou cleare god, and patron of all light, From whom ech lampjand Ihining rtar doth borrow, The beautious influence that makes him bright, There Hues a fbnne that 'uckt an earthly mother, May lend thee lighr,as thou doeft lend to other. This fayd, (he hafteth to a mirtle groue, Muling the morning is ib much ore-wornc, And yetlTne heares no tidings of her loue ^ She barkens for his hounds, and for his home, Anon Ihe heares them chaunt it luftily, And all in haft ihe coafteth to the cry. And as fhe runnes;,the buflies in the way, Some catch her by the necke,fome kiffe her face, Som.e twin'd about her thigh to make her ftay, She wildly breakethfrom their ftrid: imbrace, Like a milch Doe, whofefwelling dugs do ake, Hafting tofced herfawne, hid in fome brake, By this (he heares the hounds are at a bay, Whereat ilie darts like one that fpies an adder, V Vreath'd vp in fatall folds iuft in his way, The feare whereof doth make him fhakc,& fhuddcr, Euen fo the timerous yelping of the hounds, Appals her fenfes, and her fpirit confounds. F iij 11. 859—882 VENVS AND ADONIS. For now flic knowcs it is no gcnilc chafe, But the blunt boarc, rough bcare, or lyon proud, Becaufc the crie rcmaincth in one place. Where fearefuUy the dogs exclaimc aloud. Finding their cnemie to be Co curft, They all (Iraine curt'lie who ihall cope him firft. This difmall eric rings fadiy in her care. Through which it enters to furprife her hart. Who ouercome by doubt, and bloodleflc fcare. With cold-pale wcakeneflcjnumscch feeling part. Like foldiers when their captain once doth y celd, They bafely flie, and dare not ftay the field. Thus (land? jfhe in a trembling extafie. Till cheering vp her fenfes all difmayd, She tels them tis a cauflcflc fantafic, And childilh error that they are affrayd, Bids the leauec]uaking,bid$ them fcare nomorc, And with that word, the Ipide the hunted boare. Whofc froihle mouth bepainted all with red, Like milke, & blood , being mingled both togither, A fecondfearc through all herfinewes fprcd, y Vhich madly hurries her , Ih e know es not whither, This way Ihc runs, and now (he \n il! no furrh cr. But backcrctircs,to rate the boarc for T^^iicher. A 11. 883—906 VENVS AND ADONIS. A thoufand fplccncs bcare her a thoufand waves, She treads the padi, that Ihc vntreads againq Her more ihon hall, is mated with delaycs, Like the proceedings of a drunken braine, Full ofrcfpecls, yet naught at all refpevf^ling, In hand with all things, naught at all effecting. Here kenncid in a brake, fhe finds a hound, And askes the wearie caitiffe for his maiftcr, And there another licking of his wound, Gainft veniind fores, the onely foueraignc plaiftcr. And here fne meets another, fadly skowling, To whom ilie ipeaks , & he replies with howling. When he hath ceafthisillrefoundingnoife, Another flapmouthd mourner, blackc, and grim, Againfl the welkin, vohes out his voycc, Another, and another, anfwer him. Clapping theirproud tailes to the ground below. Shaking their fcratcht-earcs,blecding as they go, Lookc how, the worlds poore people are amazed, At apparitions, figncs, and prodigies. Whereon with fcareflil cycsjihey long haue gazed, Infufing them with dreadfull prophecies^ So Ihc at thcfc fad figncs, drawcs vp her breath, And fighing it againc, cxclaimcs on death. 11. 907—930 ;^'■'^. VENVS AND ADONIS. Hardfauourd tyrant, ougly^mcagrejleanc, I^atefuU diuorcc ofioue, (thus chides ihc death) Grim-grinning ghod, earths-worme what doft thou To ftifie bcautiejand to fteale his breath? (meanc? Who when he Hu'd^his breath and beautie fct GlolTc on the rofc/mell to the violet. Ifhebedcadjonojit cannot be, Seeing his beautie, thou (houldft ftrike at it, Oh yes, it may, thou haft no eyes to fee, But hatefiilly at randon docft thou hit, Thy marke is feeble age, but thy falfe dart, • Miftakes that aime, and cleaues an infants hart. Hadll thou but bid beware , then he had fpoke, And hearing him, thy power had loft his power, The deftinies will curfe thee for this ftroke. They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluckft a flower, Loues golden arrow at him fliould haue fled, And not deaths ebon dart to ftrike him dead. Doftthou drink tears, that thou prouok'ftfuch wec- V Vhat may a heauie grone aduantage thee? (ping, V Vhy haft thou caft into eternail ileeping, Thof e eyes that taught all other eyes to ice ? Now nature cares not for thy mortall vigour. Since her beft worke isruin'dwiththy rigour. Here 11- 931—954 VENVS AND ADONIS. Here ouercomc as one full ofdifpairc. She vaild her cyc-Ii Js, who like (luces ftopt The chriftall tide, that from her two cheeks fairc. In the iwcct channell of her bolbme dropr. But through the floud-gates breaks the filuerrain, And with his ftrong courfc opens them againc. O how her eyes, and tcares^did lend, and borrow, Her eye fcene in the tearcs, teares in her eyCj Both chriftals, where they viewd ech others forrow: Sorrow, that friendly fighs fought ftill to dryc, Butlikeaftormieday, now wind, now raine, Sighs drie her cheeks,tears make the wet againe. Variable paffions throng her conftantw^o, As ifriuing who (liould beft become her griefc, All eiitertaind, ech paifion labours foy That cuerie prefcnt forrow feemeth chiefe^ But none is bed, then ioyne they all together. Like many clouds, confultingfor foule weather. By this farre off, (h e hearcs fom e huntfman hallow, A nourfes fong nerc pleafd her babe fo weii, The dyre imagination (lie did follow, This found of hope doth labour to expell, For now reuiuing ioy bids her reioyce;^ And flatters her, it is Adonis voyce. G 11- 955—978 VENYS AND ADOKIS. VVhcreathertcares began to tunic their tide, Being prifond in her eye: like pearles in glaffe, Yet lorn edmesfals an orient drop, befide, , Which h^rcheeke mcIts,asrcorning it fliould paflfc To walh thefbule face of the flutthh ground, VVho is but dronken when fhe feemeth drownd. O hard belecuing loue how flrahgc it fceraes ! Not to beJecue,and yet too credulous: Thy weale^and wo^are both of them extreames, Defpairc^and hope^makes thee ridiculous. The one doth 6atter thee in thoughts vnlikely, Inhkely thought^ the other kils thee quickly. Now fhe vnweaues the web that (lie hath wrought, Adonis lines, and death is not to blame : It was not (lie that cald.him all to nought ^ Now ihe ads honours to his hatefull name. She clepcs him king ofgraues56^ graue for kings, Imperious fupreme ofall mortall things. No, no, quoth Qic, fweet death, I did but ieft. Yet pardon me, I felt a kind of fcarc When as I met die boarc,that bloodie bead:, Which knowes no pitie but is ftill feuere, Then gcnde il]adow(tr'uth 1 muft confcfTe) 1 rayld oa tliec, fegring my loues dcccffc. Tis 11. 979 — 1002 VENVS AND ADONIS. Tis not my fuultjthc Bore prouok't my umcr^ Be wrcik t on him ( inuifiblc commaiindcr) T'is he touIccrcatLire^that hath done thccwroncr, I did but acl,iic's author ofthy (launder. Greet e hath two tongues^ and neucr w oman ycr, Could rule them both/v ithout ten womens wit. Thus hoping that Adonis is aliue, Her ralh iufped ihe doth extenuate, And that his bcautie may the betterthriue, V V ith death the humbly doth infinuatc, Tels him of trophicsjdatucs^tombes^and ftories, His vidorics, histriumphs^ and his glories. O loue quoth fhc, how much a foole was I, To be ot fuch a weakc and fillic mind. To V. ailc his death who hues, and muilnot die, Till mu'uaHouerthr'ow ofmortallkind ? For he beingdead, with him is beautic flainc, And beautic dcad,bkicke Chaos comes againc. Fy, fy, fond loue, diou art as full offearc. As one with trcafurc ladenjhem'dwiththeeues, Trifles vnwitneflcd with cyCjOr care, Thy coward heart withfahc bethinking grecucs. Euen at this word ihe hcares a merry borne. Whereat (lic}eaps,that was biitlatcforlornc. Cz 11. 1003 — 1026 Wi-t VEt^VS AND ADONIS. As Faulcons to the lure, away (lie flies, The graffe (loops nor, (lie treads on it fo light, And in her haft, vnfortunatcly fpics, The foule boares conqueft, on her faire delight, Which recne,her eyes are murdred with the view, Like ftars alham*d of day, thcmfclues withdrew. Or as the fnaile, whofc tender homes being hit, Shrinks backward in his IhelHe caue with painc, And, there all fmoothred vp, in {hade doth fit, Long after fearing to creepc forth againe: So at his bloodic view her eyes arc fled, Into the deep-darkc cabbins of her head. ■ Where they rcfignc their office,and their light. To the difpofing ofhcr troubled brainc, ' * ' ■ Who bids them ftill confort with ougly night. And neuer wound the heart with lookes againe. Who like a king perplexed in his throne. By their fuggeftion^ giues a deadly grone. Whereat ech tributarie fubicd quikes, As when the wind imprifond in the ground, Struggling for palTage, earths foundation fliakes, which with cold terror, doth mens minds confound: This mutinic ech part doth fb furprife, That fro their dark beds once more leap her eies. And 11. 1027 — 1050 VENVS AND ADONIS. And being opcnd, threw vnwilling light, Vpon the wide wound, that the boare had trencht In his Cod flank c, whofe wonted Jillie white With purple tears that his wound wcpt,had drecht. No floure was nigh,no graffe3hearb5leaf,or weed, But dole his blood,and feemd with him to bleed. This folemne fympathie, poorc Venus noteih, Ouer one flioulder doth flie hang her head, DumbHcfhe paffionSjfrantikely Ihe doteth. She thinkes he could not die, he is not dead, Her voice is (lopr, her ioynts forget to bow. Her eyes are mad,that they haue wept till now. Vpon his hurt ilielookes fo ftedfaftly, Thatherfightdazling,makesthe wound feem three, And then Ihc reprehends her mangling eye, Thatmakes more gafhes,where no breach (huld be: His face feems twain,ech feuerall lim is doubled, For oft the eye miftakes,the brain being troubled My tongue cannot expreffe my griefcfor one, And yet (quoth fhe)behold two Adons dead. My fighes are blowne away, my (alt teares gone. Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead, Heauic hearts lead melt at mine eyes red fire, So ftiall I die by drops of hot defirc. Giij 11. 1051 — 1074 *. _. -fc-^.«-:?l. YENVS AND ADONIS.V Alas poorc world what trcafiire haft thou loft, V Vhat face remains ah'uc that^ worth the viewing? VVhofe tongue is mufick nowcwhat caft thou boaff, Ofthi ngsJong fine e,or any thing infuing? The flowers arcfwect, their colours frelh^and trim, But true fwcccbcautiehu'd,anddi'de with him; Bonne:t,nor vaile henceforth no creature weare, Nor funriej nor wind will euer ftriue tokiffc you^ - Hauingnofaire to lofe^you need notfcare, The fun doth skorneyou3& the wind doth hifl'e you. Btit when Adonis liu'dc/unnc^and iharpc aire, .Lurlgt like two theeucSjto rob him ofhisfaire.. And therefore would he put his bonnet ori, • Vnder whofe brim the gaudic funne would pcepc. The wind would blow it ot]^and being gon, ; . '. . Pl*iy with His locks5thcri would Adonis weepe. And ft'raight in pittic of his tender y cares, (tearcs. They both would ftriue who firftlhould drie his To fee his face thcLionwalkt along, < .. Behin^libme hedge, bccaufe he would not fear him: To/ecreatehimfelfwhenhehathfbng, , The Tygrc would be tamc5and gentlyiicare him* , Jfhe had Cpokeythc wolfcwouldleaddiT^.priie, Andaeuorfrightthefillielambcdiatdaie.' ' when 11. 1075 — 1098 VEN.VS AND ADONIS. VVhcnhcbchcld'his Ihadow in thcbrooke, The fifhcs (prcad on it their golden gils. When he was by the birds fuch pleafurc tooke, That fomc would fing,fome other in their biis V Voi^ld bring him mulberries & ripe-red cherries, Helcdthem with his fightjthey him with berries. But this.foulc^ttmjand^vrchin-fhowted Boare, V Vhofc.downeward eye ftill looketh for a graue: NcYe faw the bcautious huerie that he wore, VVitnefletheintcrtainmentthathegauc. . If he did fee hisfacc, why theni know, . He. thought to kiffe him,and hath kild him Co. Tistrue^tistruCjthus was Adonis (lain e, He ran vpon the Boare with his fliarpelpearcj Who did not whet histeediathimagaine^rj ':' .• But by a kiffe thought to perfuade him there. And noufiingin hisflanke thelouing f\vinc, Sheath'dvnaware the tuskeinhis foft groine. Had I bin tooth'd Uke him I muft confeffe, V Vidi kiffing him I iljould haue kild him firft, Butheisdead^andneuerdidheblefTc . My youth with his, the more am I accurft. \;;/ith this (hefallcth in the place flic flood, ' And flaines hex fa<:c with his congealed bloud. II. 1099 — 1 122 VENVS AND ADONIS. She lookcs vpouhis lips, and they arc pale, She takes him by the hand, and that is cold, She whifpers in his earcs a hcauie talc, , As if they heard the wofull words Ihctoldt She lifts the coffer-lids that clofe his eyes, V Vhcrc lo,t\vo lamps burnt out in darkneflc lies. Two glaffcs where her felfcj her feJfc beheld A thoufand times, and now no more rcflccJ-, Their vertue loft, wherein they late cxceld, And eucric beautic robd of his effc^^l^ Wonder of time(quoth llie)this ismy {pight, T hat thou being dcad,thc day ihuld yet be light. Since thou art dead, lo here I prophccic, Sorrow onloue hereafter (hall attend : It fliall be wayted on with icaloufie, Find fweet beginning, but vofauoric end. Nere fctled equally, but high or lo, That all louos pleafurc Ihall not match his wo. It fliall be fickle, falfc, and full of fraud, Bud,and be blaftcd,in a breathing while. The bottome poyfoHjand thetop ore-ftrawd With Tweets, thatlliall the truoft fight beguile, The (Irongcft bodie lliall it make raoft wcakc, Strike the wife dubc, & teach the foolc to fpcakc. It 11. 1 123 — 1 146 VENVS AND ADONIS/ It Qiall be rparlng,and too fuil of ryot, Teachini^dccrepitagcto tread the meafures, •' The daring ruffian (hall it keepe in quiet, Pluck down the rich,inrich the poore with treafurcs, It ihall be raging mad^andfilliemilde, Make the y oong old,the old become a childc. It Ihall fufpca where is no caufe offcarc, Itiliall notfearewhere it (liould moft miftruft, . Itlhallbemercifulljandtoofcueare, ■■ And moft deceiuing, when it feemes moft mft, Per ucrfe it ihall be,where it ftipwc^ moft toward, Put feare to valour,courage to the coward. It lliall be caufe of warrc,and dire eiicnts, And fet diftentiontwixt the fonne^and fire, Subiea*and feruiil to all difcontents: As drie combuftious matter is to fire, Sith in his prime,death doth my loue deftroy, They that loue beft,their loues ihall not cmoy. By this the boy that by her fide laic kild, V Vas melted like a vapour from her fight, And ill his blood that on the ground laic fpild, A purple fioure fproong vp,checkred with white, Rcfcmbling well his pale chcckcs,and the blood. Which iuround drops,vp6 their whitenclle ftood. 11. II47— II70 VENVS AND ADONIS. She bowcs her hcad^the ncw-/prong flourc to fmcJ Comparing it to her Adonis breath, ' And faics within her bofbme it (hall dwell. Since he himfelfc is reft from her by death- She crop's the ftalke, and in the breach'appcare^, Green-dropping fap,which fhe coparcs to tcares! Poore floure( quoth flie )this was thy fathers guife S weet ifTuc of a more fweet fmellino- fire ' For cuerie little griefe to wet his eics, Togrow vnto himfelfe was his defire; And fo cis thine,bat know it is as good. To wither in my breft^as in his blood. Here was thy fathers bed, here in my breft. Thou arc the next of blood,and tis thy right. Lo in this hollow cradle take thy reft, My throbbing hart fliall rock thee day and night; There Oiall not be one minute in an houre, Wherein I wil not kifle my fweet loues flourc* Thus weary ofthc world, away fhe hies, Andyokeshcrfilucrdoues,bywhofefwiftaidc, TH^itmiftrcflTc mounted through the cmptie skies, in her Hght chariot,quickly is conuaide, HoldingtheircourfetoPaphos,wheretheirquccn, Meancs f o immure her fclfe, and not be fecn. FINIS 11. 1171 — 1194 LUCRECE 1594 FACSIMILE LONDON HENRY FROWDE, M.A. PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD I SHAKESPEARES I LUGRECE J* ^ BEING A REPRODUCTION IN FACSIMILE OF ^ THE FIRST EDITION i 1594 I FROM THE COPY IN THE MALONE COLLECTION ^ IN THE BODLEIAN LIBRARY WITH INTRODUCTION AND BIBLIOGRAPHY BY SIDNEY LEE ox OXFORD : AT THE CLARENDON PRESS MDCCCCV * * fi®2© * gSJfi^ * S®2^ * fiSJfi© * g^S® •> fi^fi© * g©fi® ♦ S©fi® ♦ fi® g® * fi® fi© * OXFORD PHOTOGRAPHS AND LETTERPRESS BY HORACE HART, M.A. PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY CONTENTS INTRODUCTION TO LUCRECE— I. General Characteristics II. Sources of the Story III. The Metre and early Criticism IV. The History of the Pubhcation V. The History of the Text VI. A Census of Copies .... Illustrative Title-Pages — The unique copy of i^-pS The edition of i(Soo The edition of 1607 . The title-page to the edition of i^^-y The frontispiece to the edition of \(>ss ■ FACSIMILE OF THE EDITION OF 15-94 PAGE 7 9 21 30 11 44 AS 4^ SI When dedicating his first narrative poem, Venus ami shake- Adonis^ to his patron, the Earl of Southampton, Shakespeare Jo^^s^p^jj-on wrote: '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.' There is no reason to doubt that Shakespeare's poem of Lucrece was the fulfilment of this vow. Lucrece was ready for the press in May, 1 5-94, thirteen months after Fenus and Jdonis. During those thirteen months his labour as dramatist had occupied most of his time. In the interval he had probably been at work on as many as four plays, on 'Richard III^ Richard 11^ King John^ and Titus Andronicus, Consequently Lucrece was, as he had foretold, the fruit, not of what he deemed his serious employment, but of 'all idle hours". At the same time the increased gravity in subject and treatment which ' Between the dates of the issue of the two poems, a play, in the composition of which Shakespeare was concerned, had come from the printing- press for the first time. The subject was drawn like Lucrece from Roman history, and the play and the poem must have occupied Shakespeare's attention at the same period. On February 6, 15" 5'+) licence had been granted to John Danter for the printing of Titus Andronicus, in which Shakespeare worked up an old play by another hand. Danter was a stationer of bad reputation. Shakespeare was not in all probability responsible for Danter's action. The first edition of Titus, of lytj-f, of which the existence has been doubted, survives in a single copy. The existence of this edition was noticed by Langbaine in i6'(ji, but no copy was found to confirm Langbaine's statement till January, 19O), when an exemplar was discovered among the books of a Swedish gentleman of Scottish descent, named Robson, who resided at Lund (ch Athenau?n, Jan. 21, ipo^). The quarto was promptly purchased by an American collector for j/,'2,ooo. The title-page runs : — ' The most lamentable Romaine Tragedie of Titus Andronicus : as it was Plaide by the Right Honourable the Earle of Barbie^ Earle of Femhrooke, and Earle of Sussex, their Seruants. London, Printed by John Danter, and are character of LtKrece. 8 LUCRECE characterizes the second poem of Lucrece as compared with l^enns and Adonis^ its predecessor, showed that Shakespeare had faithfully carried into effect the promise that he had given to his patron of offering him < some graver labour '. General Lucrcce with its 1 8 J J lines is more than half as long again as Venus and Adonis with its 1194 lines. It is written with a flowing pen and shows {qw signs of careful planning or revision. The most interesting feature of the poem lies in the moral reflections which the poet scatters with a free hand about the narrative. They bear witness to great fertility of mind, to wide reading, and to meditation on life's com- plexities. The heroine's allegorical addresses (11. 8(^9-1001) to Opportunity, Time's servant, and to Time, the lackey of Eternity, turn to poetic account philosophic ideas of pith and moment. In general design and execution, Lucrece^ despite its superior gravity of tone and topic, exaggerates many of the defects of its forerunner. The digressions are ampler. The longest of them, which describes with spirit the siege of Troy, reaches a total of 2 1 7 lines, nearly one-ninth of the whole poem, and, although it is deserving of the critic's close attention, it delays the progress of the story beyond all artistic law. The conceits are more extravagant and the luxuriant imagery is a thought less fresh and less sharply pointed than in Fenus and Adonis. Throughout, there is a lack of directness and a tendency to grandiose language where simplicity would prove more effective. Haste may account for some bombastic periphrases. But Shakespeare often seems to fall a passing victim to the faults of which he to be sold by Edivard Wkite & Thomas Millhigton^ at the little North doore of Paules at the signe of the Gunne. 1594..' This volume was on sale on the London bookstalls at the same time as the 155)4. edition of Lucrece. The story of Lucrece is twice mentioned in Titus (ii. i. 108 and iv. i. ^3}. LUCRECE 9 accuses contemporary poets in his Sonnets, Ingenuity was wasted in devising < what strained touches rhetoric could lend ' to episodes capable of narration in plain words. There is much in the poem which might be condemned in the poet's own terminology as the < helpless smoke of words '. II The theme of Shakespeare's poem was nearly as well- The story. worn in the literature of Western Europe as that of his first poem Venus and Adonis. For more than twenty centuries before Shakespeare was born, the tale of Lucrece was familiar to the western world. Her tragic fate was the accepted illustration of conjugal fidelity, not only through the classical era of Roman history, but through the Middle Ages. The hold that the tale had taken on the popular imagination of Europe survived the Renaissance, and was stimulated by the expansion of interest in the Latin classics. Among Latin classical authors the story was told in fullest Classical detail by Livy in his History of Rome (Bk. i, c. f 7-9). Ovid ^"''^°"""- in his poetic Fasti (ii. 7 2 1-8 5- 2) gave a somewhat more sympathetic version of the same traditional details which Livy recorded. The main outlines of the legend figured, too, without variation in the contemporary Greek historians, Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Diodorus Siculus, and in their successor, Dio Cassius, as well as in the work of a later Latin historian, Valerius Maximus.' ' Dionysius alone tells the story at length. The other writers narrate it very briefly. Cf. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Antlquitatum Romanarum quae iupersunt, ed. Riessling, vol. ii, Leipzig, lU^ ; Dio Cassius, Hhtoria Romana, ed. Melber, vol. ii, x. ii-i8, Leipzig, 185)05 Diodorus Siculus, -B'thliotheca Htstorka^ ed. Dindorf, vol. ii, lib. x. lo-zi, Leipzig, 18(^7; and Valerius Maximus, Facta et Dicta Memorabilia^ vi. I. I. In three papers on Shakespeare's PO^"^ — Shakespeare's Lucrece. Eine litterarhistorische Untersuchung^ — which appeared in Anglia^ Band xxii, pp. 1-32, 3+5-(^3, 35)3-45'5 (Halle, 189^), 6 lO LUCRECE St. Augus- tine. Mediaeval versions. Sixteenth- century de velopmenrs. Among early Christian authors St. Augustine retold the legend in his Civitas Dei (Bk. i, ch. id-19). He com- mented with some independence on the ethical significance of Lucrece's self-slaughter, which he deemed unjustified by the circumstances of the case. The tale found a place in the most widely-read story- book of the Middle Ages, the Gesta 1{omanorum^ and by the fourteenth century it had become a stock topic among poets and novelists. O^ the great authors of the Italian Renaissance Boccaccio was the earliest to utilize it. He narrated it in his Latin prose treatise De Claris Mulieribus. It was doubtless Boccaccio's example that first recommended it to imaginative writers in England. Chaucer and Gower both turned the story into English verse, Chaucer in his Legend of Good Women ($ y, 11. i4-5 ^7 ^- C>. (fairly common). 5". A7i old facioned loue . . . by T. T. Gent. 155^4 (a translation of Watson's Latin poem Amyritas) ; the only other copy known is in the Capell collection at Trinity College, Cambridge. The last two tracts were both printed by Peter Short for William Mattes. =* Sec pp. 3 i-x supra. 42 LUCRECE First have been collated by Kemble, but it is quite perfect ; the editionj other pieces in the volume have a note, <■ Collated and ^^^'^' perfect, J.P.K.,' with date either 1792 or 1798. The original page measures 6~/' x 4I", but the page in which the text is inlaid, 8|"x5^". It is one of the later impressions of the first edition, closely resembling the copies in the British Museum. No. vir. The copy owned by Mr. A. H. Huth was purchased at Mr. A. H. j-j-j^. Daniel sale, in 18^4, for /ly? 10/. orf'. It is a perfect Huth's copy. , ' ^y Z> ^ ' r exemplar. No. viir. A copy belonging to Capt. George Lindsay Holford, of Hoiford Dorchester House, Park Lane, London, was purchased by the *^°^^' present owner's father, Robert Stayner Holford, for /i 00, about 1 8 do, and is stated to be quite perfect. No. IX. Two fine copies are now in America. One of these belongs Mr. White's to Mr. William Augustus White, of Brooklyn. Mr. White's ^°^^' copy? which measures 7^'' x t|", seems to have been at the beginning of the nineteenth century in the Chapter library of Lincoln Cathedral.' It subsequently passed into the pos- session of Sir William Bolland, Baron of the Exchequer, who died in 1840. On Sir William Bolland 's death, it appears to have been purchased by the well-known bookseller, Thomas Rodd, for 100 guineas. It then passed into the library of Frederick Perkins, of Chipstead (1780-18^0). At the sale of Perkins' library on July 10, 1889, when the catalogue noticed < a small hole burnt in two leaves, destroying a iew letters ', it was purchased by Mr. Bernard Quaritch, the London bookseller, for ^200, and was acquired by the present owner."" No. X. A copy in the library of Mr. E. D wight Church, of New Dwilit York, was formerly in that of Frederick Locker Lampson, at Church's Rowfant, Sussex, which was sold to Messrs. Dodd, Mead & (Rowfant) copy. ^ See Dibdin's Lihary Companion^ p. 6<)6^ and BibllographJcal Decameron^ vol. iii, p. z6'4. "^ A facsimile of the title-page of this copy is given in Contributions to English Bibliography^ Grolier Club, 18(^5-, p. 1 8 2. LUCRECE 43 Co., of New York, in 1904. It is a perfect copy, measuring First (^^g-^xf", and is bound in red morocco with tooled sides Edit;om, by Zaehnsdorf. It was apparently at one time the property of ^^^'^' Sir William Tite, at the sale of whose library in 1874 it fetched £110.' A fragment of the first edition was sold in 1 8 5-2, at the sale Fragment, of the library of Edward Vernon Utterson, for ^4 10/. od. Mr. White, of Brooklyn, possesses sixteen leaves (B i, B 4, C i-F 2) of a second copy, measuring 7~' x y-~'\ It is possible that this is the Utterson fragment. The first edition of Lucrece has been twice issued in Photo- facsimile j firstly, in the series of reproductions of Shake- S^p^^^''^- spearean quartos undertaken by E. W. Ashbee under J. O. ^^° ""^°'"- Halliwell-Phillipps' direction in 1857 (of which fifty copies were prepared and nineteen of these destroyed); and secondly, in the series of Shakspere-Quarto facsimiles with introduction by F. J. Furnivall, ill 6 (No. 35-), published by Mr. Bernard Quaritch, of Piccadilly, from the copy in the British Museum. The second edition appeared in 15-98. Unlike the first Second edition, which was a quarto, the second, like all its Edition, successors, is an octavo. The signatures run A-E 4 in Na xr. eights. The leaves number thirty-six and the pages are Capeii copy. unnumbered. Only a single copy of the second edition is known. It is in the Capell collection at Trinity College, Cambridge. The title-page runs : — LVCRECE. | at london, | Prmted by P. S. for lohn | Harrison. 15-98. | It was printed by Peter Short. The title-page bears the signature of two former owners — Robert Cheny, who seems to have paid i ^d. for the copy, and of Count Fieschi. The ornaments are those usually associated with Peter Short's press. Notes of ' Justin Winsor's statement that Capell's copy is missing from the collection in Trinity College, Cambridge, is incorrect. Capell never possessed a copy, but in the Catalogue of his Shakespearean Library he mentions that one is in the library of Sion College, London, and that he had collated it with his own exemplar of I5'98. F 2 Second Edition, If 98. Third Edition, 1600. No. XII. Bodleian copy (i). 44 LUCRECE flJT'l l(Llp^. J» ' ' L VCKECE, ;• .S*4? ^^^ a thorough collation by Capell of this copy with one of the first edition of i r94 in Sion College Library are scat- tered through the volume. The di- mensions of the volume are \\" I " The edition of i<^oo is in octavo, with signa- tures A-E 4 in eights. Signature E 3 is misprinted B3. Jt has thirty- six leaves, and no pagination. Only one perfect copy is known. This is in the Malone collec- tion (Malone 327) in the Bodleian Library, Oxford. It is bound up with a copy of Venus and Adonis which has a title- page supplied in manuscript (see Venus and Adorns^ Census, No. VIII). The volume was presented to Ma- I: \: :j^\p u &^ 1 o £J t? *3 fv Printed by P. f. ^ om^ •Yarffinwwntiia-wfc' lone by Dr. Richard Farmer in 1779.' in good condition. The measurements The are Lucrece A 9 " is I 6 X3 ^ There is a note to that effect in Malonc's autograph in the volume. Malone soon afterwards lent the volume to Steevens so that he might read the \Coo edition of "Lucrece. He returned it with a sarcastic drawing which still LUCRECE 41" The title-page runs : — LVCRECE | London. | Printed by T. H. Third for lohn Harison. \ i6oo.\ f^;;'J°^' There is in the Bodleian Library a second and imperfect no. xiir. CO pyofthis edition Bodleian (2). (without title-page and wanting last leaf), which mea- sures \--\ X 3^ . The text breaks off at line 1797, ' My sorrowes in- terestjlet no mour- ner say ' with the catchword below ' He '. The signa- tures are as in the perfect copy of i6qo. The leaves number thirty- four. The tract is inserted in a volume (S** L 2 Art. BS.) which was probably bound in Oxford for the Bodleian Library about K^fo, and comes between ^ Chan- sons spirituelles, mises en musique a quatre parties par Didier Lupi. Nouuelle- ment reueues & augmentees. A Paris. Par Adrian le Roy 6c Robert Ballard, Imprimeurs du Roy 15-71 ' (music book); and < A Wittie Encounter Betweene Monsieur du Moulin & Monsieur remains pasted on the fly-leaf; a bust of Shakespeare is shown with the words written on a label proceeding from his lips : ' Would that I had all my commentators in Lipsburry pinfold ! ' Third Edition, i^oo. Fourth Edition, 1607. 4<^ LUCRECE fLondoir' ^''''"'^^'^'^"'^ """^ °^'^^^ ^^^^^ch ^'oPPy by A. S. Gent' The fourth edition of 1607^ in small octavo, was printed T^.rp'r?J?.' ?^'' ^""^ J''^'^ Harrison. The title-pa^e runs.— 1.VCRECE. I AT LONDON, | Printed be N. O. for John Ha- J rison. 1607. I The leaves number thirty-two without pagina- LUCRECE 47 tion. The signatures run A-D 8 ; A 4 is misprinted B4. On Fourth the title-page appears the misprint be for by (in the imprint Edition, < Printed be N. O.'). Harrison's device and motto, Dum '^°^' spero^ fero^ figure as in the edition of 1^00. There is a circular ornament at the end of the <■ Argument '. Two copies are known. The Capell copy in Trinity No. xiv. College, Cambridge, measures f " x 3-^". CapeiUopy. The second copy, in the library of the Earl of Ellesmere, No. xv. at Bridgewater House, London, measures fi'' x i\'\ The leaves ^"^gewatcr are much cut dov/n. The volume is bound in orange morocco. *^°^^' This copy possesses much historic interest. It was purchased by John Egerton, second Earl of Bridgewater, who took the part of the Elder Brother in the performance of Milton's Comus at Ludlow Castle, in 1(^34. The words ^"< Stt''- I^ ^^ one time be- (Rowfant) longed to Narcissus Luttrell (id; 7-1 7 3 2), and seems to have <^opy. been sold at the Ouvry sale in 1882, for £3 1, to Messrs. Ellis and White, the booksellers of Bond Street. It was acquired by Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Co., booksellers of New York, in 1 9 04. The copy belonging to Mr. Folger, of New York, no. xxiv. seems to have been sold at Sotheby's in a miscellaneous ^^^'- Foigers sale on Jmie 18, 1903, and bought by Messrs. Sotheran for ^°^^' ^130. A iQw headlines are shaved. A copy belonging to Mr. Marsden J. Perry, of Provi- No. xxv. dence, formerly belonged to Halliwell[-Phillipps], who ^'- ^^^^Y^ paid Quaritch i42 for it in November, 1885-. It measures *^°^^' 1 1 '' I " In the seventh edition of 1(^32, the signatures run A in Seventh fours, B-D7 in eights j B4 is misprinted B2. On the last Edition, page (D7 verso) the word < Finis' is followed by a wood- ^ ^"' cut with the motto /// Domino confido. The typography is distinguished by the excessive use of italics for ordinary words. The leaves number thirty. There is no pagination. G fo LUCRECE Seventh EdITIONj ]6^i No. XXVI. Corpus Christi College, Oxford. No. XXVII. Biitwell copy. No. XXVIII. Untiaced copy. No. XXIX. Edinburgh University copy. There are five extant copies of the edition of 16^2 — one at Corpus Christi College, Oxford ; another in the library of Mrs. Christie Miller at Britwell ; a third in unknown hands ; the fourth (defective) at Edinburgh University Library j and the fifth in America, in Mr. Perry's library at Providence. The title-page runs : — The | Rape | of I Lucrece | by | Mr. William Shakespeare | Newly revised. [Printer's device with motto Dum spero fero.'] London. | Printed by R. B. for John Harrison and | are to be sold at his shop at the golden | Vnicorne in Pater-noster l{ow. \ 167,2. \ In one of the impressions of the edition of Shakespeare's T'o^wj- issued by the bookseller Lintott in 171 o, he gives a title-page of Lucrece bearing the date 1(^3 2. A copy of that edition was doubtless in his possession. The Corpus Christi College copy, which measures f t" >< 3t"> ^^s presented to the college by a seventeenth- century Fellow, John Rosewell, Canon of Windsor. It is in old calf, and bound up with a defective copy (having no title) of an English translation by Thomas Hudson of the History of Judith (1^84) from the French of Du Bartas. The Britwell copy formerly belonged to George Steevens, and was bought at his sale in 1800 by Richard Heber for fifteen shillings. It passed from the Heber Library into the possession of William Henry Miller, the founder of the library at Britwell, in 1834. The measurements are ff " X 3I". It is bound up with a copy of Charles Fitz- GefFry's Blessed Birthday (Oxford, 167,6). A copy belonging to John Mansfield Mackenzie, of Edinburgh, of which some leaves had rough edges, was sold at Sotheby's at the sale of the Mackenzie Library, March n, 1889, and was purchased by Pearson & Co., the London booksellers, for ^f 2 (^ i o/. od. Its present owner has not been traced. A defective copy (consisting of twenty-seven leaves of the thirty) is in the Edinburgh University Library.^ The ' Thanks are due to Dr. Eggeling and to Mr. Alex. Anderson of Edinburgh University for the opportunity of determining the date of this copy. LUCRECE ri measurements are yf x 3^". It has no title-page, and the Seventh leaves C and C2 (lines 7^^4-903 ) are missing. The bottom Edition, edges are closely shaved throughout. It was bound by ^^^^' The Rape of L U C RE GE. Coniniittea iw T ARQ^U 1 NtheSfxr^; \ The remirhdhle judgments thit befd himf$rit^ y - ' 'BY ■ . - The incomparable Mafter of oorH»?^/?/^f <>f5;^f^ "^ Willi Shakes PS ARE Gent. ^he 'BamlhmentofYh r q,u \ m\] ': Or^ the %evpaYd of Lu/i^'_ : j ] : ■ By J. Qu A S I E S . ^^- .^f^-L^I^ « ^f ; * i^sr J*, 1^ Printed by p.^. lot f oka Stafford in George- v^l nf er Fleet-bridge, and ^rl/i: Cilhsrtfo^ at »«v^jt«*i.- Tuckett. It was presented, in 1872, to the Edinburgh University by J. O. Halliwell-Phillipps, who, in a manuscript note, describes it as a unique exemplar, in ignorance of the G 2 5-2 LUCRECE Seventh survival of any other copy of the 1632 edition. Halliwell- edition, phillipps had, in his Folio Shakespeare (iSdy), dated this ^^' defective copy before 1616^ assigning it tentatively to the year k^io, but his final opinion that it was issued in 16^2 is undoubtedly right. No. XXX. The copy belonging to :Mr. Marsden J. Perry, of Provi- Mr. Perry's Jence, was purchascd for £7^ at the Halliwell-Phillipps sale, ''^^^'' in 1889. It measures y-ri'xBl") ^^"^^ is bound in red morocco, by Lortic frcres. Some of the lower and outer leaves are uncut. EIGHTH A reissue in idyj, for which William Gilbertson, who Edition, had just purchased the copyright, was mainly responsible, '^^^' bears this title:— The Rape of | LUCRECE, | Committed by I TARQUIN the Sixtj | and | The remarkable judgments that hefel him for it. \ by | The incomparable Master of our English Poetry^ \ Will : Shakespeare Gent. | Whereunto is annexed, \ The Banishment of Tarquin: | Or, the leeward of Lust. I By J. Quarles. | london. | Printed by J. G. for John Stafford in George-yard | neer Fleet-bridge, and Will-. Gilbertson at | the Bible in Giltspur-street, i6sS' \ The pages are numbered 1-71 for Shakespeare's poem and 1-12 for Quarles' brief sequel. The signatures are continuous throughout — A 4, B-F 8 in eights, G 4. The volume opens with an engraved frontispiece, by William Faithorne. In the upper part of the page is a small oval portrait of Shakespeare, adapted from the Droeshout engraving in the First Folio, and below are full-length pictures of Collatinus and Lucretia with the inscription in large italics : — The Fates decree that tis a mighty wrong To Woemen Kinde, to have more Greife, then Tongue. Will : Gilbirson : John Stafford excud. On the title-page, which faces the frontispiece and is in ordinary type, is the device of a wreath containing the initials I. S. and W. G. (i.e. John Stafford and William Gilbertson). A dedication follows on sig. A3, < To my LUCRECE T3 Sef t£a'" ""''T-^^^^ A^-sey,'and is signed John e.h.h Uuarleb. The ^ Argument ' is on A 4, and the text of Shake- e^^™^, speare's poem on B-F4 (verso blank). The separate title-page '^^^• iA£s^2L of Quarles' poem is on Fr:_Tarq\dn Banished: Or, The Reward Of Lust. Written by T. n There follows an ttTylll ^'"'^''' (^')' «"d 'he text of Qi,ar°es' po^: r4 LUCRECE Eighth Edition, 1^55. With the Frontis- piece, No. XXXI. British Miisenm (i). No. xxxir. Bodleian copy. No. XXXIII. Barton collection, Boston Public Library. The frontispiece is met with in Aery icw copies, and lends the volume its main ^alue and interest. It supplies the third engraved portrait of Shakespeare in ]X)int of time, that by Droeshout of the First Folio of 1623 being the first, and the second being the engraving by William Marshall before Shakespeare's Poems of 1540. Of the three early engraved portraits of Shakespeare, this by Faithorne is most rarely met with. Halliwell[-Phillipps], writing before iSjd, stated that he had seen thirty copies of the 16 ^y edition of Lucrece without the title-page and only one with it. Only two copies of the Aolume with the frontispiece seem acces- sible in Great Britain, while four seem to be in America. Three copies of the edition are in the British Museum, but only one of them has the frontispiece (C. 34. a. 45-). The perfect copy, which measures s-h" ^ ^-h"-) '^^^s acquired by the Museum, April 3, i%6y. It is stained and very closely trimmed, but the impression of the frontispiece is singularly brilliant, though the verses beneath it have been cut into by the binder. This copy was at one time in the possession of Halliwell[-Phillipps], who sold it by auction at Sotheby's in May, i8f(5, for £2^ ioj. od. Halliwell[-Phillipps] inserted a manuscript note, calling attention to the extreme rarity of the edition with the frontispiece, and to its comparatively frequent occurrence without that embellishment. The copy in the Bodleian Library (Malone 889) was be- queathed by Thomas Caldecott in 1 8 3 3. It measures y-~' x i~' . The frontispiece is mounted, and may possibly have come from another copy. The title-page is cropped and mutilated at the bottom. The binding is probably of the late eighteenth century. At the back of the Lucrece title-page the ' Wriothesley ' dedication is copied in manuscript from the \6\6 edition. The copy in the Barton collection at the Boston Public Library has the frontispiece inlaid. 1 his copy was thus described by the bookseller, Thomas Rodd, on October y, 1837: — 'The title-page torn and laid down. The frontis- piece inlaid. Several leaves cut into the side margin & LUCRECE js dirty. The back margin sewed in.' Rodd thought it eighth might be identical with the copy sold in 1827 at the Field edition, sale for £1 19/. od. It was purchased by T. P. Barton of New York, from Rodd, in 183 f , and bequeathed by Barton to the Boston Public Library in i8 7<^. It is bound in green morocco by Mackenzie, and the binder has misplaced pages f and 8. An interesting copy, belonging to Mr. Dwight Church No. of New York, bound in old calf, has the frontispiece, but ^■^^i^* , it is cut into at the bottom. Some of the pages of the churciTS^ text are also closely cut. The copy, which measures New York. f:pg" X 3I-", seems identical with one which was purchased at Sotheby's, by [Sir] William Tite, in 1 8 y o, for £z6 y /. od. and sold at the Tite sale in 1 8 74, for £1 1 js. od. Mr. Church's copy is carefully described in Contributions to English Biblio- graphy .^ Grolier Club, i89y, p. 183. Mr. Folger, junior, of New York, possesses a perfect No. copy. This was apparently the copy which belonged to ^^^\ Dr. Richard Farmer, and was for a time in the library of ofNewYork. Henry F. Sewall of New York, at the sale of whose books in 1897 it fetched ^37 (§185-). A fourth perfect copy was sold at the Daniel sale in I5^\.yT 18^4, for £\o 19/. o^., and was subsequently in the library of untiaced E. G. Asay of Chicago. (Daniel) Oi two copies in the British Museum without the frontis- ^°p^" piece one is bound up with a volume of pamphlets in the t-he™ron- King's Library, E. 1^72/3. The date, 'Aug: 31,' is written tispiece. in a contemporary hand above the imprint, and was probably No. the day of publication in the year K^yy. The book is in gj^j^j^^^" good condition. It measures yf'' x i~^" . Museum (2). The second copy without the frontispiece, which is at No. • • • XXXVIIT the British Museum, is in the Grenville collection (G. 11432). ^^\^^^\^ All the leaves are stained and have been mended. The Museum (3). volume is bound in olive morocco and measures 5-7" x i~' , This may be the copy formerly in the library of George Hibbert, of Portland Place, which was sold at the Hibbert sale in 1829, for £z 6s. od. f<^ LUCRECE Eighth Edition, No. XXXIX. Edinburgh University. Nos. XL. and XLl. Britwell copies. There is a copy in the University Library at Edinburgh, without the frontispiece, and two copies without the title- page are at Britwell; one of the latter formerly belonged to Richard Heber.' ' Notices of other imperfect copies without the frontispiece appear in sale catalogues. In the *Bibliotheca Anglo-Poctica' (1815'), a catalogue of rare books on sale at Messrs. Longmans, oF Paternoster Row, a copy is priced at £1 los. od. but no particulars of its condition are given. One was sold at the Utterson sale in iS^z, for four guineas (without frontispiece and the bottom line of title cut off) ; another at the Frederick Perkins' sale in 1889, bound by Roger Payne, for ^3 6s. od. ; a third, belonging to Halliwell- Phillipps, bound by Bedford in morocco, was sold at the sale of his library, July I, 1885;, to Raglan for £11 os. od. At two miscellaneous sales at Sotheby's, on June 18 and December 4, 190a, respectively, the frontispiece and title-page were sold detached from the volume. On the first occasion they were bought for ^13 los. od, by Mr. Gribble, and on the second occasion Messrs. Pearson & Co. were the purchasers for £110. L V C R E C E; ^% ® ,IH ,'/i /■ A iv~^-. v»'\ ;^m, -^ LONDON. Printed by Richard Ficld^ for lohn Harrifon^and arc tcJbc fold atihcfiopcotihcV'liirc Greyhound inPaulcsChuih yr.rJ/ i '■ <) /\. TO THE RIGHT . H O N O V R A B L E, H E N K Y V \'i iotlicllc y, r^ arlc of Soiuhhampton, .-iiui liar 01) ot Titclifield. H E loue I dedicate to your Lordlliip i: without endrwhcr- oi this Pamphlet \\ ithout be- ginning is but a fupeiHuous Moity. The warrantlhauc of ^^"J^^^^ML -^^"^ Honourable difpofition, ^x^j>\Aa^:i^ nQf^h^^^Q^^j^ of my vntutord Lines makes it affured of acceptance. What I hauc done is yours, what I hauc to doe is yours, being partin alll haue^dcuotcdyours. VVcrcmy worth greatcr,my ducty would ihew greater, meanc time, as it i$,it is bound to your Lordlhip; To whom I wilh long life dill Icngthned with all happineflc. Your LordQiips in all ducty. \^MIiam Sh.ikcfpcare. A 1 THE ARGVMENT. LVcius Tarquinius (for hu excf///f/e pride /Mrfjtimed Supcthxis) after hee had c^tfifed hU ovftie father tnUwSa\.\\VL^T\x\\\us to be cruel/j murdred J and cor.tr, irie to the %^m.v,ie l-.ivcs ^ndcM- jlomes , tiot reejtitrtKg or flaying for the peoples fttjjrjgcs, h.ui pojfcjfed himj'clfeofthe kj^'^dome : rvetjt accompanyed vnth hu fonnes (ind other Noble men of R^me^ to hcfiejr^e Ardea, during which fcge^ thcprincipnU men of the iyirmy meeting one ettemng at the Tent o/'ScxtUS Tarcjuini- US the Kwq^sfome, tn their dtfcourfes after fitpptr ettery one commended the vertues of his owne wife : iimo%g yvhorn Colatinus extolledthe wccm- f arable chaslttj of his rvife Lucretia. In that pleafunt humor they allpo- (iedto'^omej andintenSng by theyr fecretand fodame arri»all to r»ake triall of that whtch enery one had before atiottched, onely Colatinusj^W.f hii Wife (thoffgh tt were late m the night) /pinning umongcfl her nttudcs^ the other Ladies were all found daunc/ng and reuellmg, cr in fcnertilldij- ■borts : whereupon the Noble menyec/drd -Col'^xtinus theviihry, tv-'d Jtis Wife the Fame, Or why is Colatine the publilher ; Ofthat rich iewell he (hould keepe vaknown, i. From theeuiih cares becaufc it is his ov\^ne ? Perchance 11- 15—35 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE. Perchance his boft of Lucrece Sou'raignti?, Suggcftcd this proud ifluc of a King : For by our cares our hearts oft tay hted be : Perchance that cnuie otforich a thing Brauing compare, di(clainefully did (ling (vant, His high pLcht thoughts that meaner menlhould That golden hap which their fuperiors want. But (bme vntimelie thought did inftigatc. His all too timelefle fpeede if none of ihofe, His honor, his affaires, his friends, his ftate, Negleded all, with fwift intent he goes, To quench the coalc which in his liucr glowes. O ralli falfe heatc, wrapt in repentant cold, Thy haftic fpring ftill blafts and nerc growes old. When at Colatium this falfe Lord ariucd, V Veil wa , he welconVd by the Romaine dame, Within w hofe face Beautie and Vcrtue driued. Which of thbm both fbould vndei prop her fame. VVhe Vertuebrag'd, Beautie wold blulhfor(hame, V^hen Beautie bofted blu(lies,in defpight . Vcrtue would ftaine that ore with filucr vs hite. B 2 11. 36-56 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. B ut Bcautie in that white cntitulcd, From Venus doues doth challenge that faire field, T h-n Vertue claimes from Beautie, Beauties red, Which Vertue gaue the golden age, to guild Their filucr chcekes, andcald it then their fliield. Teaching them thus to vfe it in the fight, VVhc Ihamc a{laild,thc red Ihould fecc the white. This Herauldry inLvcRECE face was fecne, Argued by Beauties red and Vertues white, Of cithers colour was the other Queenc : Prouingfirom worlds minoriry their right, Yettheir ambition makesthem ftill to fight: The foueraignty oi either being To great, That oft they interchange cch others feat. This filent warreof Lillies aad of Rofcs, Which Tarqjvi n vew'd in herfaire faces field, >In their pure rankes his tray tor eye enclofe^?, Where leaft betweene them both it (hould be kild. The coward captiue vanqutihed, doth yceld To thofctwo Armies thatwould let him goe, Rather then triumph in (o falfc a foe. Now < 11 57—77 If^'f^Lv THE RAPE OF LVCRECE Now ihinkci he that her husbands (hallow toneue* 1 he niggard prodigall that pralfde her fo : In that high taskc hath done her Beauty wrong. Which farrc cxcccdcshis barren skill to (how. Therefore that prai(e which C o l a t i n e doth owe, Inchauiucd T a ,i qjv i n aunfwers withfurmife, In lllcnt wonder of ftill gazing eyes. This earthly faind adored by this deuill, Little fufpccteth the falfcworihipper: *' For vnftaind thoughts do fcldom dream oneuilL "Birds neuerlim'dynofecrctbirihcsfearc: So |^ui'tic{Tc llicc fccurciy giues good cheare. And rcucrcnd welcome to her princely guc% VVhofe inward ill no outward harmc exprc(V* For that he colourd witbhishigh eftatc, Hiding bafe fin in pleats of Maicilie: That iK>thing in him feemd inordinate, Sauc fometime too much wonder of his'eye. Which hauing all, all could not fatiafie^ But poorly rich fo wanteth in his ftorc, - Ih^x cWdwidimuch, he pineth ftill for more* B 5 11. 78—98 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Butflic that neucr cop't with ftraungcr eics, Could picke no meaning froui their parling lookcs, Nor read the fubtlc ihining fccrecics, V Vrit in the glaffie margents of And when great trcafure isrhc mccdc propo ed, -' 1 hough death be adiu\5t^ther's no death fuppofcd, Tho^c that much couet are with gaine fbfond, T hat V. bai they hauc not^that which they polTcffe They feat, cr and vnloofc it from their bond, And (o by hoping more they haue but leiTc, ©r gaining moie. the profite of cxcefle Is buc to furfct^and Rich grictcs fuftaine, That they proue backrout in this poore rich gain. II. I20 — 140 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. The aymc of all is but to nourfc the life, V V iih honor, weal th, and cafe in wainyng age: And in this aymc there is fuch thwarting (Irife, That one for all, or all for one we gage: As life for honour, in fell battailes rage, Honor for wealth, and oft that wealth doth coft The death of all, and altogether loft. So that in ventring ill, we leaue to be The things we are, for that which wc cxpcd : And this ambitious foule infirmitie, In hauing much torments vs with defe A Of that w c haue: fo then wc doe negled The thing we hauc, and all for want of wit, Make fomcthing nothing,by augmenting it. Such hazard now muft doting T a r qv i n make, Pawning his honor to obtaine his lull:, And for himfblfe, himfelfe he muft forfake, ^ Then where is truth if there be no felfe- truft? =' V Vhen fliall he thinkc to find a ftranger iuft, 'When he him rclfe,him felfe confounds,betraies, 'To fciandrous tongues & wretched hateful daies? JMow 11. 141—161 THE RAPE OF L V C R E C E. Now dole \ ppon the time the dead of night, V V hen hcauie fleecp had clofd vp niortall eyes, No comfortable ftarre did lend his light, No noife but O wles, & wolues death-boding cries: Now ferucs the feafon that they may furprifc The fillic Lambes, pure thoughts are dead &: ftill, While Luft and Murder wakes to ftaine and kill. And now this luflfull Lord leapt from his bed. Throwing his mantle rudely ore his arnic, Is madly toft betweene defire and drcd^ Tb'one fwectely flatters, th'otherfearethharmc, But honeftfcare5bewicht with luftesfoulecharme, Doth too too oft betake him to retire, Beaten away by braincfickc rude defire. His Faulchon on a flint he foftly fmiteili, That from the could ftone fparkes of fire doe flic, Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he li^hteth. Which muft be lodeftarre to his luftfull eye. And to the flame thus fpcakes aduifedliej As from this cold flmt I enforft this fire. So L V c R-E c E muft Iforce to my defire. C 11. 162—182 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE. Here pale with fearehc doth premeditate. The daungers of his lothfome cnterpriie: And in his inward mind he doth debate, V Vhat following forrow may on this arifc. Then looking fcornfully, he doth defpife His naked armour offtill flaaghtcrcd lui% Andiuftly thus conirolls his thoughts vniuft. Faire torch burne out thy light, and lend it not To darken her whofe liglit excellcth thine: And die vnhallowed thoughts, before you blot V Vith your vncleanne(re,that \a hich is deuine: Offer pure incenfe to (o pure a flirine : Let faire humanitie abhor the decde, That fpots & ftains loues modeft fnow-whitc weed. O fhame to knighthood , and to (l)ining Armes, O foulc diihonor to my houfhoulds graue : O impious ad including all foule harmes. A martiall man to be foft fancies flauc. True valour ilill a true rcfpcd: ftiould hauc, Then my digrefTion isfo vile, fo bafc, That it will liuc cngrauen in my face. 11. 183 — 203 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Yea though ^ die the fcandale will furuiuc, And be an eie-lbrc in my golden coatc : Some lothfome dafh the Herrald will contriuc, To cipher mc how fondlie I did dote : That my pofteritie (hanVd with the note Shall curfc my bones, and hold it for no finne, To wilh that i their father had not beenc. VVhatv/inliflgaincthethinglfeekc? A dicame, a breath, a froth ot ticeting ioy, . Who buies a minutes mirth to waile a wceke * Or fcls eternitie to get a toy ? . For one fweete grape t\ ho will the vine deftroy ? Or what fond beaCTer,but to touch the crownc, Would with the Iceptcr flraight be (Irokc down? If Col ATTN vs dreame of my intent, V V ill he not wake, and in a defp'rate rage Pod hither , this vile purpofe to preuent ? This ficge that hath ingirt his marriage, This blur to youth, this forrow to the fage, This dying vertuc, this furuiuing Ihame, V Vhofe crime will beare an euer-during blame, C2 11. 204 — 224 THERAPEOFLVCRECE. O what cxcufc can my iniicntion make V Vheii thou ihah charge mc with fo blacke a deed? V Vil not my tongue be mutc,my fraile ioinrs Qiakc? Mine eics forgo their light, my falfc hart blcede? The guilt bccing great,thefcare doth ftill cxcecdej And extreme teare can neither fight nor flie, ■ ButcowardUkc with trcmbhng terror die. Had CoLATiNvskildmyfonncorfirc, Or laine in ambuih to betray my llk^ Or w^cre he not my deare friend, this dcfire Might haue cxcufc to worke vppon his wife : As in rcuengc or quittall of f uch ftrifc. But as he is my kinfman, my deare friend. The ftiame and fault finds no cxcufc nor end. ShamefuUitis :T,ifthefaa bcknownc, Hatefull it is ; there is no hare in louing, lie beg her louc: but (he is not her owne : The worft is but deniall and rcproouing. My will is ftrong paft reafons weakc remoouing : Who fearcs a fcnicnce or an old mans (aw, 'Shall by a painted cJoth be kept in awe. Thus 11. 225—245 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Thus gracclcflc holds he di/putation, Tweenc frozen confciencc and hot burning will, And with good thoughts makes difpcnfation, Vrgingthe worfcr fence for vantage ftill. Which in a moment doth confound and kill All pure effeds^and doth Co farre proceede, That whatis vik^fliewes like a vertuoixsdecde. Quoth he, fhee tooke me kindlic by the hand, And gaz'd for tidings in my eager eyes, Fcaripgfomc hard newes from the warlike band, VVTiercherbeloued (!^ot ATiNvs lies, O how her fcarc did make her colour rife I Firft red as Rofcs that on Lawne we laie. Then white as Lawne the Rofes tooke awaic, Andhowherhandinmyhandbeinglockt, .' Forft it to tremble with her loyal! feare; Which ftrooke her fad , and then it fafter rockf, Vntill her husbands welfare fhee did heare. Whereat fhee fmiled with fo fw<:ctc achcare, Thathad Narcissvs feeiic her asttiec flood, Selfe-Iouc hadneuer drown'd him in the flood. ' C 3 II. 246 266 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. V V hy hunt I then for colour or cxcufcs ? All Orators arc dumbc when Bcautic plcadcth, Poore wretches haue remorfc in poorc abufes, >■ Loucthriuesnotinthchanthat fhadows dreadeth, Affciftion is my Captaine and he leadeth. And when his gaudic banner is dif plaide, The coward fights, and will not be dilmaide. Then childifli fearc auaunt, debating die, ...Refpecl and realon wairc on wrincklcd age: "^^ My heart (hall ncuer countermand mine eic^ .. ' Sad paufc, and dcepc regard befeeracs the fagc, ».. My part is youth and beates thefe from the ftage. Defire my Pilot is, Beautiemyprife, Then who feares finking where fuch treafure lies? As come orc-growne by wcedes: fo hcedfuU fearc Is almoll choakt by vnredfled luil : Away he ftcales with open liftning earc, Full offoule hope, and full of fond miltrufl: :- Both which as fcruitors to the vniufl:, So croffe him with their oppcfit perfwafion, That now he vowcs a league, and now inuafion. '^ VVith- 11. 267—287 THERAPEOFLVCRECE. Within his thought her hcaucniy image fits, And in the felfe fame feat fits C o l a r i n f, That eye which lookes on her confounds his wits. That eye which him bcholdcs, as more deuine, Vnto a view fb falfc will not incline; But with a pure appeale feekes to the heart, Y Vhich once corrupted takes the worfer part. And therein heartens vp his feruilc powers, Vi^ho flattred by their leaders iocound lliow, ^zm^. vp his luft : as minutes fill vp howres. ^la^iheirG^tajneifo their pride doth grow, ig nf^ic (lauifti tribute then they owe. • '-^y reproDacc defirc ihus madly led, TheKomaneLordmarchethto LvcRECEbed. The lockes bctweene her chamber and his will, Ech one by him inforft retires his ward : But as they open ihey all rate his ill, VVhichdriues the creeping theefe to ibme regard, The thrclliold grates the doore to hauc him heard. Night wandring weezels (hreck to fee him there, They fright him, yet he ftill purfues hi;^ fcare. 11. 288—308 THE RAPE OF L V C R E C E. As each vhwilling portall y cclds him way, Throughlittle vents and cranlesofthe place, The wind warres with his torch, to make him (laic , And blowes the fmoakc of it into his face, ExtinguifliiiTg his condud in this cafe. But his hot heart, which fond defire doth fcorch, Ruffes forth another wind thatfires the torch. And being lighted,by the Hght he fpies LvcRECiAS gloLie, wherein her needle (licks. He takes it from the rufhes where it \icSy ^' / And griping it, the needle his finger pricks. As who fhpdd fay, this glouc to wanton trickcs Is not inur'dj returne againe in ha% Thou feed our miftreflcornSmcnts arc chart. But all thefe poore forbiddings could not (lay him, He in the wcnft (Snce confters their deniall: The dores, the wind,thegloue that did delay him, He takes for accidentall things of triall. Or as thofe bars which ftop the hourely diall. Who with alingring ftaie hiscourfc doth let, Till cuerie minute paycs the hovyre his debt. So 11. 309—329 THE R A P E O F L V C R E C E. So Co, quoth he, thefc lers attend the time. Like Httlcfrofts that fbmetime threat the /pi ing. To ad a more rcioy fing to the prime, And giue the fneaped birds more caufe. to fing. -Pain payes the income of cch precious thing, (fandi ■ ■■f Huge rocksjhigh windsjdrong pirats^flielucs and ^The marchant fcarcs, ere rich at home he lands. Now is he come vnto the chamber dore. That Ihuts him from the Heaucn ofhis thought, V Vhich with a y ecldiug latch, and with no more, Hath bard him from the blciTcd thing he fought. So from himfclfe impiety hath wrought, That for his pray tb pray he doth begin, As ifthe Heaucns ihould countenance his fin. But in the midft of his vnfruitfull prayer^ - Hauing folicited th'eternall power, - That his foule thoughts might copaffc his fair faire, And they would ftand aufpicious to the howrc. Euen there he ftarts, quoth he, I muft deflowrej The powers to whom I pray abhor this fa6t, How can they then aflfift me in the awt ? D II- 330—350 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Then Loue and Fortune be my Gods, my guide, My will is backt with rcroluiion : Thou'^ht'j arc but drcames till dicir cfTccls be tried. The blackefl fr.^.nc isclcar'd with abfoluiion, Aizainflloucsfire.fearcs froflhathdinolution. The eye of Meauen is oiitjand nii!lic night Couers the fliame that followes iwccc delight. This faidj his guiltic hand pluckt vp the latch, And wiih his knee the dure he opens Vvidc, 'The doue deeps faiUhat this nighc Owle will catch. Thus treafonworkcs ere traitors be e/picd. ^-VVhofccsthclurkingrerpentfteppesafidc; But Ibee found deeping fearing no fiich thing, Lies at the mercie of his mortall iting. Into the chamber vvickedlie he ftalkes, And gazeth on her yet vnftained bed ; Thccurtaines being clofe, about he walkes, Rowling his greedieeye-bals in his head. . By their high treafon ishis heart rpif led, V Vhich giucs the watch word to his hand ful foon. To draw the clowd that hides the (ilucr Moon, Lookc 11. 351- 37J THE RAPE O F L V C R E C E. LookeasthcfaireandfieriepoinredSunnc, Rufliingfrom forth a cloudy bcreaucs cur fight: Euen fo the Curraine drawnc, his eyes begun To winkcj being blinded with a greater h^ht. Whether it is that (hee reflects io bright, That dazleth them, or elfc feme fhamefuppofed, Bucbhnd they arc^ and keep thcmrelu-sinclofcd. had they in that darkefome prifon died, 1 hen had they fcene the period oftheir ill : Then Colatine againeby Lvcrece lide, In his clearc bed might haue repofqd flill. But they mud ope this bJeffcd league to kill, And holie-thoughted Lvcrece to th: irfiaht, Muft fell her icy^hcrlifcpher worlds delight. TlerlilUehandjherrofiecheekellesvndcr, Coofning the pillow of a lawfull kiflc : Who therefore angrie fcemes to part in funder, Swelling on either fide lo want his bliffe. Betwecne whofe hils her head intombed is^ Where like a vcrtuous Monument flicelics^ •To be admir'd of lewd \jihallowcd eyes. D 2 li- 372-392 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. TVithoutifiebcdhcrothcrfairchandwai*, On the grccnc coucrlet whofe pcrfcd white Showed like an Aprill dazic on the graflc, With pearl ic fwet refcmbHngdew ofnighte Her eyes Uke Marigolds hadfheath'd their light, . And canopied in daikeneffc iwectly lay, . . Till they might open to axlornc the day« Herhaire like goldethrecds play d with her breathy O modeft wantons, wanton modeRie I Showing lifes triumph in the map of dcathj. And'deaths dim lookcin lifes mortalitie. •. Ecb in hi^ flcepe thcmfclucs fb bcautific^ > As ifbctweenc them twaine there were no lirife,. But that life liu'd in death, and death in life;' Her breaftUikcIubry globes circled with blew, ' A paireotoaiden worlds vnconquered, Saue ofthcir Lord, no bearing yoke they knew,. And him by oath they trucly honored. Thefe worlds in Tarqvin new ambition bred, Who likeafowlevfurper went aboiir, From.thisfairethrongtoheauctheownerout. What 11- 393—413 THE RAPE OF LVC'RECE VVhatcouldhcfccbutmightily he noted? What did he note, but ftrongly he dcfired? VV hat he beheld, on that he firmcly doted, " And in his will his wilfull eye he tyred. .With more then admiration he admired ' Her azure vaines, her alablafter skinne,"^ ' Her corall lips, her ihow- white dimpled chin* 9 As the grim Lion fawneth ore his pray, Sharpe hunger by the conqueft fatisfied r So orethislleepingfouledothTARCtviN ftay,, Hisragcofluft by gating qualified^ Slakt, not fuppreft, for ftanding by her fide, His eye which late this mutiny reftraincs, Vnto a greater vprore tempts his vaines. Andthey like ftragling (laues for pillage fighting,. - Obdurate vaflals fell exploits effe^ing, ;! , In bloudy death and rauilhment delighting; Nor childrens tears nor mothers grones refpeding, Swell in their pride, the onfet ftill expeding : • Anoahis beating heart allarum ftriking, Giuc5 thchotcharge, & bids the do their liking. II. 414—434 THE RAPE OPLVCRECE. His drumming heart chcarcsvp his burning eye, His eye commends ihc leading to his hand5 ^ His hand as proud of fuch a dignitic , Smoaking w ith pride, marcht on, to make his (land On her bare brcfl:,thc heart of all her land^ VVhofc ranks ot blew vains as his hand didfcale. Left iheir round turrets deRiiutc and pale. They muflring to the L]uiet Cabinet, Where their dcare gouerncflc and ladic lies, Do tell her Ihee is dreadfullic bcfct. And fright her with confufion oftheir cries. Shee much amaz*d brcakes ope her lockt vp eyes, Who peepingtoonh this tumult to behold, Arc by his flaming torch dim'd and controld. Imagine her as one in dead of night, From forth dull flecpc by dreadfull fancie waking, Thatthinkes Ihee hath beheld fomcgaRliclprite, VVhofc grim afpedt lets euerie ioint a lliaking, What terror tis: butflieein worfcrtaking, From flccpedifturbedjheedfullie doth view The fight which makes fuppofcd terror trew. Wrapt 11. 435—455 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE Wrapt and confounded m a thouland feares, •Like to a aew kild bird jhce'trcmbling lies : Shee dares not looke, yet winking diere appearcs Quicke-fhifdngAntiquesvglieinhcreyes. **' Such Ihadowes are the weakcj- brains forgeries, V,Vho angrie that the eyes Hiefroni their lights, In darknes daunts the withinof c dreadful! fights. His hand thatyctrcmainesvppon her brefl-j (Rude Ram to batter fuch an luoriev/alh) May feele her heart (poore Citgzen) diftrcft, Wounding it fclfe todeiatbjfife vp and faUj^ Beati ng her bulke^that his hand fhakcswithall. This moues in hiiil iBore rage and lefTer pittie. To make the breach and enter this fwcet Citty» FirftiikcaTronipetdoihhisriqngjuebcgin,. - Tofbundaparlietohisheartleffefoe,, ' Who ore the wliiteQicet peers her whiter chin, ■ The rcafon of this raili allarme to know, V Vhich he by dum demeanor fcekes CO iliow. But Ihec with vehement pray ers vrgcthftil], Vndcr what; colour he xronunits this ill. 11. 456—476 THE RAPE O F L V C R E C E. Thus he rcph'cs, the colour in thy face, Th:iccuen for anger makes the Lilly pale, And the red rofe bluQi at her owne dilt^racc. Shall plead for me and tell my louing talc. Vndcrthat colouram Icomc to (calc _ Thy neuer conquered Fort, the fault is thine, ' For thofe thine eyes betray thee vnto mine. Thus I forcfl-all thee, if thou meanc to chide. Thy beauty hath enfnar'd thee to this night. Where thou with patience muft my will abide, My will that markcs thcc for my earths delight, .. V Vhich I to conquer fought with all my might. V ,' Butasreproofeandreaibnbeatitdead, \ By thy bright beautie was it newlic bred. I/cc what croflcsmy attempt will bring, I know what thorncs the growing rofe dcfcnd5, I thinke the honie garded with a iHng, All this before-hand counfcll comprehends, ^ But Will is deafc, and hears no heedtull friends, : OnelyhehathaneyetogazeonBeautie, Anddotcsonv/hathe looks, gainltlaw or ducty. I 11. 477-497 T H E R A P E OF L V G R E C £. I hauc debated eucn in my foule, What wroiig,whatihamCjwhatforrow I fhal brec J, But nothing can affcdions courfe controull, Or ftop the headlong furic of his fpecd, I know repentant teares infewe the deed, Rcproch, difdaincj and deadly enmity, Yet ftriuc I lo em brace mine infamy. This (aidj hee fliakcs aloft his Romaine blade, Which like a Faulcon towring in the skies, Cowcheth the fowle below with his wings Iha de, V V hofe crooked beakc threats,ifhe mount he dies. So vnder his infulting Fauchion lies • Harmelertc L v c k e t i a marking what he tels, With trembling feare:as fowl hear Faulcos bcls. Lv c R E c E, quoth he, this night I mud enioy thee. If thou deny, then force muft worke my way : For in thy bed I purpofe to deftroie ihee. That done, fome worthleffe flaue of thine ile flay. To kill thine Honour with thy liuesdccaic. Andinthydeadaimesdo Imeanc to place him, Swearing 1 flue him feeingthee imbrac c him. E 11. 498— 5 t8 THE RAPE OF L V C R E C E. So thy furuiuing husband ihall remainc The fcorncfull marke of cucrie open eye, T hy kinfmcn hang their heads at this diidainc. Thy ifTucblur'd with namclcflcbaOardicj And thou the author of their obloquie, Shalt haue thy trefpafle cited vp in rimes, And fung by children in fuccccding times. But if thou yeeld, I reft thy fccret friend, The fault vnknowne, is as a thought vnadcd, ^' A little harme done to a great good end, For lawfull pollicie remaines enacted. "Thcpoyfonousiunplc fomctime is compared In a pure compound^ being fo applied, His vcnome in elicct is purified. Then for thy husband and thy childrers fake. Tender my fuite, bequeath not to i heir lot The fliame thai from them no deuTfe can take. The blcmiiluhat will neuerbe forgot: V Vorfe then a flauilh wipe, or birth howrs blot, For markcsdifcriedin mens natiuitie, Are natures faultcs^not their owne infaniic. Here 11. 519-539 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Here with a Cockcatricc dead killing eye. He rowfcth vp himfelfcj and makes a paufe, While fhec thcpidurc of pure pietie, . Like a white Hindc vnder ihegrypcs Iharpe clawcs, Picades in a wildernefle where are no lawcs, To the rough bead, that knowcs no gentle right, Nor ought obaycs but his fowlc appetite. But when a black- fac'd clowd the world dorh thrct, In his dim oiift th'afpiring mountaines hiding : From earths dark-womb,fbme gentle guft doth get, V Vhich blowthefe pitchic vapours fro their biding: Hindring their prefcnt fall by this dcuiding. So his vnhallowed haft her words dclaycs^ And moodie Plvto winks while Orpheus playes. Yet fowle night-waking Cat he doth but dallic, While in his hold-faft foot the weak moufepateth, Herladbchauiourfeedeshisvuhurefoliic, A fwallowinggulfe thateuen in plentic wanteth. His eare her prayers admits, but his heart granteth No penetrable entrance to her playning, "Tears harden luft though marble w?re with ray- E 2 (^i"g« 11. 540—5^ >. • v- THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Her pittic-pleading eyes are fadlic fixed In the rcmorfcleflc wrinckles of his face. Her modeft eloquence with lighcs is mixed, V V hich to her Oratoric addcs more gracc« She e puts the period often from his place, >\nd midft the fentencc fo her accent brcakcs, 1 hat twifc (he doth begin ere once Ihc fpcakcs. She coniures him by high Almightie loue, By knighthood, gentric, and fweetc friendflups orh, By her vp.cimely teares, her husbands louc, By holichumainelaw,and common troth, By Heaucn and Earth, and all the power of both : That to his borrowed bcdhe make retire. And (loopc to Honor, not to fo wlc dcfirc. •Quoth fliee,reward not Hofpitalitic, With fuch black payment, as thou haff pretended, ».Muddc not the foiintainc that gaue drinkc to thee, Mar not the thing that caiinot be amended. End thy ill ay me, before thy fiiootc be ended. > He is no wood- man that doth bend his bow, ^ To ftrikc a poorc vnfeafonable Doc, My 11. 561—581 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE. My husband is thy friend, for his fake /pate mc, Thy fclfc art mighcie/or thine own fake Icauc mc : My fclfe a weakling, do not then infnarc me. Thou look'ft not like deceipt^do not dccciuc me. My fighcs like whirlcwindes labor h^ncc to heauc ' If euer man were mou'd with womas moiieSj(thee, ^ Be moucd with my tearcs^ my fighcs , rty gr dncs. All which together like a troubled Ocean, Beatatthy rockiejandwrackc-threaming heart, To foften it with their cohiinuall motion : ^ For ftones diflblu'd to water doconucrt. O if no harder then a ftorje thou art, ' Melt at my tearcsand be companionate, ' Soft pittie enters at an iron gate* • In Tarqvih« UkenefleldidentcrtaHieth'ce*' Hafttbouputonhisftapc,todohimlliamc?'' To all the HoH: of Hcauen I complaine mc. - Thou wrongft his honor, voudft his princrely name: Thou art not what thou feem'ft; and' if rf^e fome^" c. a Thou fecm'ft not what thou ait,a 6€>i,^Kmg^ ^ For kings like Gods ftiould goucnic e ucry ihing. £3 11. 582—602 THE RAPE OF LVCRKCE- How will thy (hamc be fccdcd in tliinc age V Vh^n thps thy vices bud before thy fpring ? if in thy hope thou darll do fuch outrage. What dar'ft thou not when once thou art a King ? O bc-rem^mbrcd, no'ouiragious thing ' From va{ralla»Stors can be wipt away, r- Then Kings miidccde^ cannot be hid in clay. This dcedp will mak<5;^eonIy lou'd for fcarc, But hippie Monarchs lti|i afc icard for loue: VVithfowIc ofFcniloFsthpii,p(prforcc muft bcarc, V Vhen they in thee tho hkc offences prouej Ifbutforfeareofthisythywilircmoue. ^ , > ■ For Princes are the glaflc,thc Ichoolcjihc bookc, >■ Where fubie6l:s eics do learnjdo rcad^do looke. And wil; tjhou be the fchoole where Jufl lliall Icarnc? Mufthein.thecread.Icdurcsoffuchniamc:' Wilt thou be glaflc whcrein^it Ihall difccrne Authoritic for finne, warrant for blame? To priuilcdg^dirhonor in thy name. _. ,, Th^u backft rcproch agaiynft long-Iiujng lawd, -> Aftdmak'ftjfaircrepuutiqnbutabawd., < r Had 11. 603 — 623 THE RAPE OF L V C R E C E. Haft thou commiHjncl ? by him that gauek thee From a pure heart coHlmaurKlthy rebel! v^iJlr ' Draw not thy (word tagard iniquitie," ' / For it was leftt thee all that broode to kilK Thy Princelicoffice how ' Mens faults do fcldome to themfelue^- appearc, ^ Their own tran/grcffions partiallie-ihey /mother, Thi:^guilt would Teem death- worrhie in thy brother,. O how are they wrapt in with infamies, That fro their own mifdeeds askaunce their dyes? To thee-, to thee, my heau'd vp hands appeal^ NottofeducingluftrhyralhrclieF; ^*. 1 fuefor cxil'd maicfiies repcale, Let him returne, and flattring thoughts retire. His true rcfpcd will priibrt falfc dcilre. And wipe the dim mirt from thy doting eicn, That thoufhaltice thy ftate, and piitic mine,. 11. 624 — 644 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Hauc done, quoth he, my vncontrollcd tide Turn cs not, but fwels the higher by this let. Small lightcs arc foonc blown out, huge fires abide, And with the winde in greater furic fret: The petty ftreames that paie a dailie dec To their fait foueraignc with their frcQi fals haft, Addc to his flowc^ but alter not his talt. Thou art, quoth Lliec, a fca, a foueraignc King, And loe there fals into thy boundlellc flood , Blacke lufl-, dilhonor, lliame, mif-gouerning. Who feeke to ftaine the Ocean of thy blood. If all thefe pcttie ils fliall change thy good, Thy fea within a puddels wombc ii herfcd, And not the puddle in thy feadifperfed. So (hall thefe flaues be King,artd thou their flauc, Thou noblie bafe , they bafelic dignified : Thou their fairc life, and they thy fow ler grauc : Thou lothed in their fliame, they in thy pride, ) The lefTer thing fhould not the greater hide, ' The Cedar ftoopes not to the bafe thrubs foote, ^ B ut low-fhrubs wither at the Cedars roote. So 11. 645-665 THE RAPE OELVCRECE. So let thy thoughts low vaffals to thy ftatc, No more quoth hc^by Heauen I will nothcarc thee. Yeeld to my loue, if not iiiforccd hate, In fteed of loucs coy tutch Ihall rudelic tcare thee. That done, defpitefullic I meanc to bcare thee Vnto the bafe bed of fome rafcall groome, To be thy partner in this ihamefull doome. This faid, he fets his foote vppon the light, ^ For light and luft are deadlic enemies, Shame folded vp in blind concealing night. When moft vnicenc, then moft doth tyrannize. The wolfe hath ceazd hi > pray, the poor Iamb cries, Till with her own white fleece her voice controld, Intombesheroutcrie in her lips fweetfold. For with the nightlie linrienthat (hee weares, He pens her piteous clamors in her head, Cooling his hot face in the chafteft teares. That euer modeft eyes with forrow fhed. Othat prone luftftiould ftaincfo pure a bed, The fpots whereof could weeping purifie, Her tears Ihould drop on them perpetuallic. F 11. 666 -686 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. >.But fliee hath loil: a dearer thing then life, And he hath wonnc vvhat he would loofc againe, This forced league dotli force a further ftrife, y- This momcmaric ioy breeds months of paine, ' This hot defire conuerts to coldc difdaincj Pure chaditie is rifled of her (lore, A nd hifl; the theefcfarre poorer then before, Looke as the full-fed Hound, or gorged Hawkc, Vnipt for tender fmell, or fpeedieflighr, Make ilow puribite, or altogether bauk. The praie wherein by nature they delight; Sofurfet-taking Tarq^vin fares this night: His tad delicious, in digeftionfowring, Deuoures his will that liu'd by fowie dcuouring, O deeper finne then bottomlcflc conceit Can comprehend in ffilJ imagination ! Drunken Defire muft vomite his receipt Ere he can fee his owne abhomination. > VVhileLufi is in his pride no exclamation ' Can curbc his heat, or rcine his ralh defire, 'Till like a Iadc,felf will himfclfe doth tire. And 11. 687 — 707 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE. And then with ]anke,and Icane difcolouf d chcckc With hcauic cy e^knit-browjand ftrengthleffc pace, Feeble define alJ recreanr,poore and n>ccke, Like to a banckrout beggcr wailcs his cacc : . The flefh being proud, Defire doth fight with gracq ' For there it reuels, and when that dccaies, ' Theguiltic rebell forremiflion praies. So fares it with this fault-full Lord of Rome, Who this accomplifliment fo hotly chafed, For now againft himfelfe he founds this doomc, That through the length of times he ftads di^raccd: Bcfidcs his foules faire temple is defaced, To whofe weake ruines mufter troopes of cares. To askc the fpotted PrinccfTe ho w ftic fares. Sheefayesherfubiedswithfowleinfurrcd^ion, Haue batterd downc her confccratcd wall, And by their mortal] fauk brought in fubic6tion Her immortalitie, and made her thrall. To liuing death and pay nc'pcrpetuall. Which in her prefciencefhee controlled ftill. But her forefightcould not foreflall their will. Fi 11. 708—728 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Eu'n In this thought through the Jark-night he ftca- A captiuc viv::l:or that hath lofl: in gainc, (leth, Bearing away the wound that nothing hcalcth, The fcarrc that will dilpight of Cure rcmainc, Lcauin^ his fpoilc pcrplcxt in greater paine. > Sheebearesthe lode oflufi he left bchintJe, ^ And he the burthen of a guiltie minde. Hcelike a thceuiln dog creeps fadly thence, Shce like a wearied Lambe lies panting there, He fcowles and hates himfelfe for his otfencc, Shee defperat wich her nailcs her flclTi doih tcarc. He faintly flies fweating with guiltie feare: Shee ftaies exclayming on the dircfull night, He runnes and chides his vaniibt loth'd delight. He thence departs a heauy conuertite, Shee there remainesa hopelefle caif-away, He in his fpeed lookesfor the morning light : Shee pray cs Ihee neucr may behold ihe day. For dale, quoth ihec^nighrs fcapcs doth open lay, > And my true eyes haue neuerpradiz'd how ■■■>■ To cloake offences with a cunning brow. They 11. 729—749 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE They thinke not but that cucric eye can fee. The fame difgracc which they theinfclues behold : And therefore would ihey ftill in darkenefTe be, To haue their Ynfcenefinnc rcmaine vntold. For they their guilt with weeping will vnfold, And graue like water that doth catc in ftcele, Vppon my cheeks, what hclpclcflc Ihame I feclc. Here lliee cxclaimes againft repofe and reft, And bids her eyes hereafter dill be blindc, Shee wakes her heart by beating on her breft, A nd bids it leape from thence, where it maie findc Some purer chefl, to clofe fo pure a minde. Frantickc with grietc thus breaths fliee forth her Againft the vnfecne fecrecie of night. (fpitc, O comfort killing night, image of Hell, Dim regidcr, and notarie of Ihame, Blacke ftage for tragedies, and murthers fell, Vafi: fin-concealing Chaos, nourfe of blame. Blinde muffled bawd^darke harbcr for defame, Grim caue of death, whifpring con(pirator, V Vith clofe-tong'd treafon & the rauiilicr. II. 750—770 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. O hatefuUjVaporous, and foggy nighr, Since thou art guilty of my curclefic crime : Muftcr thy mifts to mecte the Eaflerne light, Make war againfl proportion'd courfe ot time. Or if thou wilt permit the Sunne to clime His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed, Knit poyfonou5 clouds abouc his golden head. With rotten damps rauilh the morning aire, Let their cxhald vnholdfome breaths make fickc The Ufe of puritie, the fupremc fairc, Er€ he arriue his wcarie noone-tidc prick c, And let thy muftie vapours march Co thickc, That in their fmoakierankesjhis finothrcd light Mav fet at noone,and make perpetuall night. V Verc T A R QJ I K night, as he is but nights child. The filucrlliiningC^uccne he would diftaine; Her twinckling handmaids to(by him dchj'd) Through nights black bofom Ihuldnot peep again. So fhould 1 haue copartners in my painc, > Andfcllowfhip in woe doth woe affwagc, • As Palmers chat makes (hort their pilgrimage. Where 11. 771—791 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE Where now I hauc no one to blufli with n>c, To croffe their armes & hang their heads withtainc^ To maske their browes and hide their infamic. But I alone, alone mull fit and pine, Scafoning the earth with (howrcs of filuer brine; ^ Mingling my talk with tcars^mygrccf with gronc5, • Poore wafting monuments of lafting nioncs. O night thou furnace of fowle reeking fmokc! Let not the icalous daic behold that face, V V^hich vaderneath thy blacke all hiding clokc Imniodcftjy lies nwrtird with di^racc, Keepe ftill poflciTion of thy gloomy place, That ail the faults which in thy raignc arc made, May likewife bcftg^ulcherd in thy (hade. Make me not obied to the tell-talcday, The light will (hew charaderd in my brow, The ftoric of (weetc chaftitics decay, Thcimpiou^breachofholywedlockcvowc. Yea the illiterate that know not how To cipher what is writ in learned bookcS) V Vifl cotcmy lothibmc trcfpaflcin my Ipokcs* 11. 792 — 812 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. The nourfc to ftill her child will tell my ftoric, And fright her crying babe with T a r qj i n s name. The Orator to dccke his oratorie, V Vill couple my rcproch to T a r qv i n s (hame, Feaft-finding minftrcls tuning my defame, V Vill tie the hearers to attend ech line, How Taiiqvin wronged me, I Colatine, Let my good name^that fcncelefTc reputation, For CoLAiiNES deareIouebekcptvn(potted: Ifthat be made a theame for diiputation, The branches of another roote are rotted; And vndelcru'd rcproch to him alotted, That is as clcarc from this attaint of mine, As I ere this was pure to Colatine, O vnfeenc (hame, inuifible difgracc, O vnfelt fore, creft-wounding priuat icarre ! Reprochisftamptin CoLATiNvs face, And 1 ARQ^YiNS cycmaicreadthemotafarrc, ^^ How he in peace is wounded not in warre. «^ Alas how manic beare fuch lliamefull blowcs, Which not thcfelucs but he that giucs the knowes. If 11. 813-833 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. irC o L A T I N E, thine honor laic in nic, From me by ftrong affault it is bereft: My Honnic loft, and I a Drone-Hke Bee, Haucno pcrfedionotmyfommcrlcft, But rob*d and ranfak't by iniurious thcfr. ' In thy weake Hiue a wandring wafpc hath crept, ' And fuck'tihe Honnic which thy chaft Bee kept. Yet am Iguiltieofthy Honors wrackc, Yet for thy Honordidlentertainehim, Comming from thee I could not put him backe: For k had beene difhonor to difdainc him, Befidcs ofwearinefle hedldcoraplainehim, And talk't of Vcrtuc (O vnlook't for euill,) When Vertuc is prophan'd in fuch a Dcuill, Why fliould the wormc intrude the maiden bud ? Or hatefull Kuckcowes hatch in Sparrows nefts > OrTodcs infedtfaire founts with venomemud ? Or tyrant folHe lurke in gende brcfts ? OrKings be breakers of their ovvne behcftcs* "But no perfection is fo abfolute, That fomc impuritic doth not pollute. G II. 834—854 THE RAPE OF LVCRECL Tlic a^^cd man that coffers vp his gold, Is plagu'd w ith cramps, and goiitSjand paincfull fits, A'"id (carcc bath eyes his treaiui e to behold, . But like ftill pining TANXAtvshc fits, And vfelcde barnes the harucft of his wits: Hauing no other picafure of his gainc, But torment that it cannot cure his paiiie. 5Jo then he hath it when he cannot vfe ic, And Icaucs it to be maiftrcd by his yong : Who in their pridodo prcfently abii^e it, ^ heir father was too wcakc, and they too ftrong To hold their curfcd-blelTed Fortune long. " The fwects we wilhfor,turne to lot bed fb wrs, " Euen in the moment that we call them ours. Vnruly blafts wnit on the tender fpring, Vrrfiolfome weeds take roote with precious fiowrs, The Adder hiffes where the fweetc birds fing, 'What Vertue breedes Iniquity deuours: ': V Ve haue no good that we can fay is ours, ♦ But ill annexed opportunity > Orkils his Iifc,orclfc his quality, O 11. 855-875 THE RAPE OF LVCRECL opportunity tliy guilt is great, Tis thoiuhat cxc( ur'il the rraytors treafon: 1 hou fcts the v/oiic where he the lanibc may '^ct, V Vho eiicr plots the finnc thou poinR the Icalon. Tis thou that {pur-Vit at ni^htj at law, at reafon, And in thy ihad.ic Cell where none may (oic him, Sits Un to ccaie the ibules that wander by him. Thou makcR the veftall violate her oath, •Thou blowefl the fire when temperance is thawd. Thou imotherft honcflie, thou murthrefl: troth, •Thou fowle abbcttor,thou notorious bawd, Thou plantcft fcandall, and difplacefl lawd. Thou rauillier, thou tray tor, thou falfe thcefc. Thy honie turnes to gall,thy ioy to greef e. Thy fccrct plcafurc turnes to open fhame. Thy priuatc feafting to a publicke fall. Thy finoothing titles to a ragged name, •Thy fugrcd tongue to bitter wormwood taft, Thy violent vanities can ncuer lafl. ^ How comes it then, vile opportunity Being fo bad^fuch numbers feeke for thee? G z 11. 876—896 THE RAPE or LVCRECE. V Vhcn wilt thou be the humble fuppliants fricn 1 And bring him where his fuit may be obtained? V Vhcn wilt thou fort an howrc great (b iks to end? Or free that foulc which wrcichcdncs hath chained > G iae phifickc to the (ickc, eafc to the pained? The poorejlamcjblindjhaultjcrecpc, cry out for But they ncrc meet with oportunitic. (ihec. The patlcntdies while the Phifuian deepen, The Orphanc pines while the opprciror fccdes. lufticc is fcafting while the widow wccpes, Aduife is fporting while infedion breeds. Thou graunt'ft no time for charitable deeds. Wrath, cnuy,treafon, rape, and murthcrs rages. Thy heinous houres wait on them as their Pages* When Tructh and Venue hauc to do with thee, A thoufand erodes kccpe them from thy aide: They buie thy hclpe,but finnc ncrcgiucs a fee, He gratis comes, and thou art well apaidc, As well to heare, as graunt what he hath faidc. My C o L A T I N E would cKc hauc come to me, VVhcnTARQ^viNdid,buthcwasftaicdbythcc. Guilty 11. 897—917 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Guilty thou art of miirthcr^and ofthcft, Guilty of pcriuricjand fubornation, Guilty of trcafonjlbrgericjand (hift, Guilty of iiiceft that abhomination, An acccflaric by thine inclination. To all finnes paft and all that are to come. From the creation to the general! dooine. Mifihapcn time, copefmate ofvgly night, S witt lubtle port, can ier of gricflic care, Eater of youth, falfe flaue to falic dehght : Bafe watch of woes, fins packhorfe,Ycrtues fnarc. Thou nourfeft all, and munhreft all that arc. O hearc me then, iniurious Ihiftini^ time, Be guiltic of my death fincc of my crime. Why hath thy feruant opportunity Betraide the howres thou gau*ft me to rcpofe? Canccld my fortunes, and inchained mc To endlefTc date of neuer-endin^r woes? Times office is to fine the hate offoes. To cate vp errours by opinion bred, Notfpendthcdowrie ofa lawful! bed » 11. 918-938 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE, Times glorie is co calmc contending Kings, To vnmaske fallhood, and bring truth to light, To ftampe the fcalc of t;;nc in aged things, To wake the niornejaniCcntinell the night, To wrona the wronger till he render rjoht, To ruinate proud buildings with thy howres, And Tmeare wiih duft thcirghtring golden towrs. To fill with wormc-holcs ftately monuments. To feede obHuion w ith decay of things, To blot old bookes, and alter tlieir contents. To pluckc the quils from auncient raucns wings. To drie the old oakcs fappe, and cherilKiprings : To fpoilc Antiquities of hammerd fleelc. And uirne the giIic wecpes, the other takes in hand No caufcj but companie of her drops fpilHng, .Their gentle fex to weepe are often willing^ Greeuing themfelues to geffe at others (marts, 'And the they di own their eies^or break their harts. For men haue marble, women waxen mindes, And therefore are they form'd as marble will, The weake oppreft^th'imprcflion offtrangekindcs Is form*d in them by force, by fraud, or skill. Then call them not the Authors of their ill, No more then waxe (liall be accounted euill, VVherein is (lamptthe femblance of a DcuilJ. Their feioothneffc^liice agoodly champainc plaine, Laies open all the little wormes that creepe, In men as in a rough growne groue remainc, Caue keeping euils that obfcurcly fleepe. Through chriH-all wals cch littlemoie will pcepe, y Though me cacouer crimes with bold ftern looks, ■» Poore womcns faces are their owae faults hooks. No 11. 1233— 1253 THE RAPE OF L V C R E C E. No man inueigh againft ihc withered flowrc, But chicle rough wiiirer that the flowrc hath kild, Not that dcuour'd, but that which doth dcuour Is worthic blame,6 let it not be hild Poore vv omens faults^ that they arc fo fulfild With mens abufesj thofe proud Lords to blame, Make weak-made wome tenants to their fhame. The prefident whereof in Lvcrece view, Aflail'd by night with circumftanccs (Irong Of prcfent dcathj and ihame that might inluc. By that her death to do her husband wrong. Such danger to refiftancc did belong ; That dying fcare through all her bodic jpred, And who cannot abufe a bodie dead ? By this milde patience bid faire L v c r e g e /pcakc, To the poore counterfaite of her complayning, My girlcj quoth (hce, on what occafion breakc Thofc tears fro thcCjthat downe thy cheeks arc raig- If thou dofl: wcepc for grie/e of my fuftaining: (ning? Know c^ende wench it fmallauailcsmv mood, , . li tears could hclp^mine own would do me good. 13 11. 1254— 1274 THE RAPE" OF LVCRECE. But tell mc girl e, when went (and fhere fhec (laide. Till after a deepe gronc) T a r qj i n from hence, Madame ere I was vp (repli'd the maide,) The more to blanie my iluggard negligence. Yet with the fault I thus farre can dilpcncc : My lelfc was ftirring crc the brcake of day. And ere I rofe was T a r q^v i n gone away. But Lady, ifyour maide may be fo bold, Shee would requefl: to know your heauineffc : (O peace quoth L v c r e c E)if it ihould be told, • The repetition cannot make it leffe : For more it is, then I can well exprefle, -• And that decpe torture may be cal'd a Hell, '■ When more isfelt then one hath power to tell. Go get mee hither paper, inkc, and pen, Yet lauc that labour, for I haue them hearc, (What Ihould I fay) one ofmy husbands men Bid thou be rcadic, by and by, to bearc A letter to my Lord, my Loue, my Dcarc, Bid him with fpeede prepare to carrie it. The caufc craucs haft, and it will foone be writ. Her 11. 1275- 1295 THERAPE OF LVCRECE. Her niaidc is gone, and iLce prepares to write, Firft houcring ore the paper with her quill : Conceiptandgriefc an eager combatfighr, What wit fcts downc is blotted (Iraight with will. This is too curious ^ood, this blunt and ill. Much like a prcfk of people ata dorc, ^1 hrong her inuentions which fliall go before* At laftihcc thus begins : thouworthieLordj Of that vnworthic wife that grcctcth thee, Hcakhto thy pcrfon, ncxt^^uchlafc t'afford (IfcucrlouCjthy Lvcrece thou wilt fee,) Some prcfcnt fpecd, to come and vifitc mc: ' SoIcommendmCjfromourhoufeiagriefej > My woes are tcdious^though my words are bricfc. • Here folds H^icc vp the tenure ofher woe. Her ccrtaine forrow writvncertainely^ By this Ihort Ccdulc C o l at i n e may know Her gricfc, but not her griefcs true cjualiry, Shec dares not thereof make difcoucry^. Lefllielhouldholdit hcrowngrbilcabufej Ere Ihe wich bioud hadlUin'd hbr flain'd cxc\i(c. ]]. 1296 — 1316 THERAPE OF LVCRECE. Bcfidcs the life and fccling of her paffion, Shec bo ords to fpciid, when he is by to hcarc her, V Vhcn fighs,C< groncs,& tears may grace the fallu 3 Of her diigracc, the better fo to clcarc her From that fufpicio which the world mjght bear her. To l]\unthis blot, ftiec would notblot the letter VVithwordsjtillaAion might becom the better. »To fee fad fights^raoucs more then hcare them told. For then the eye interpretes to the earc T he hcauie motion that it doth behold, . V Vhen cueric parr, a part of woe doth bearc. Tis but a part of forrow that wc hearc, ^ Deep founds make ieiTernoilethelhallowfoords, And forrow ebsjbeing blown with wind of words. Her letter now is feal'd, and on it writ At A R D E A to my Lord with more then hafl-. The Pod attends, and thee deliuers it. Charging the fowr-fac'd groome, to high as faft As lagging fowles before the Northcrnc blafts. Speed more then fpccd,but dul & flow fhc deems, Extremity ftill vrgeth fuch extremes. The II. 1317— 1337 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE. The homclic villainc curfics to her low, And blulhing on her with a ftedfaft eye, Rcccaucs the fcroU without or yea or no, And forth with baihfull innocence doth hie. But ihcy whofe guilt within their bofomcs He, Imagine cuerie eye beholds their blame. For LvcRECE thought, he bluiht to fee her ihame. When fcelie Croome (God wot) it was dcfcd OffpiritCjHfe, and bold audacitic, Such harmleffe creatures haue a true rcfpcd: To talkc in deeds, while others faucijic Promife more fpccd, but do it Icyfurelie. Euen fo this pattcrnc of the w ornc-cut age, Paw n'd honed: Iooks,but laid no words to gage. His kindled duetie kindled her miftrud. That two red fires in both their faces blazed, Shee thought he blulhj:> as knowing Takqvins luft, And blulhing with him,wiillie on himgaxed, Her earned: eye did make him more amazed. The more iliee faw the bloud his checks rcplcnifh, 1 he more (he thought he fpicd in her Torn Dleniilh. K 11. 1338-1358 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. P ut long iLcc ihinkes till he rcturnc againc, And yet the dutious vaflali fcarcc is gone. The wcarje time fliec cannot cntcrtaine, Fornowtisftalctofigh, towcepc, andgronc, So woe hath wearied woe, mone tired mone, That lliee her plaints a little while doth (lay, Pawling for means to mourne fbme newer way. At laft fhec cals to mind where hangs a pecce Of skilful! painting, m^de for P r i a m s Troy, Before the which is drawn the power of Greece, For Helens rapCjthcCittie to deftroy, Threatning cloud-kiffing I l l i o n with annoy, Which the conceipted Painter drew fo prowd, , AsHeauen(itfccmd)tokifre the turrets bo w'd. A thoufand lamentable obieds there, - In fcocne of Nature, Art gaue liuelefTe life, MaHy a dry drop feem'd a weeping teare. Shed for the flaughtred husband by the wife. The red bloud rcek'd to ihew the Painters ftrifc, And dying eyes gieenVd forth their afhic lights, . Like dying coalcs burnt out in tedious nights. There 11. 1359— 1379 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE. Tlicrc mightvoufccthelaboLiringPyoncr BcgnnVd with Iweat, and (incarcd all with dud, And from the tov/resofTroy, there would appearc The vcric eyes of men through loop-holes thruft, Gazing vppon the Greekcs with little luft, Suchiwccr oh^cruanceinthisworkc washad, That one might fee thofc farrc of eyes iooke fad. In orcatcommaunders, Grace, and Maieftic, You might behold triumphing in their faces*-, In you^h quick-bearing and dextcritic. And here and there the Painter interlaces Pale cov.'ards marching on with trembling paces. Which harriclic pcalauntsdidfovvelrcfemblej That one would (.vcar he faw them quake 6< treble. In A I A X and V l y s s e s, 6 what Art Of Phifiognomy might one behold 1 The face of eytlicrcyphcr'd eythcrs heart, Their fjcCj their manners moft cxprcflic told, III AiAX eyes biunr rage and rigour rold^ But the mild t'lancediat flic Vlysses lent, she v/cd decpc regard and fm.iling gouernmcrt.. 11. 1380 1400 THE KAPE OF LVCRECE. There pleading might you fee grauc Nestor (land, As'twcrcincouragingthcGrcekcstofighr, Making fuch fobcr adion with his hand, That it beguild attention, charnvd the fight, In fpccch it feemd his beard, all filuer white, VVag'dvpanJdowne, and from his lips did flie, Thin winding breath which purl'd vp to the skie. About him were a preflc ofgaping faces, V Vhich feem'd to fwallow vp his iound aduicc, All ioyntlie liftning, but with fcuerall graces, As if fome Marmaidc did their eares intice. Some high, fome low, the Painter was fo nice. The fcalpes of manie,almo(l hid behind, To iump vp higher feem'd to mockc the mind. Here one mans hand Icand on anothers head, His nofe being (hadowcd by his neighbours care, Here one being throng'd,bears back all boln,& red, Another fmotherd,feemes to pelt and fwearc. And in their rage fuch fignes ofrage they bearc. As but for lofle ofNESTORS golden words. It feem'd they would debate with angrie fwords, Fof 11. 1401 — 1421 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE. For much imaginaric workc was there, Conccipt deceitfully fo compadl fo kinde, That for Achilles image Oood his fpcarc Grip'c in an Armed hand^himfelfe behind VVasleftvnfeenejfauetoihecycofmind, A handj a footc, a facc^a leg, a head Stood tor the w hole lo be imagined. And from the wals offbrong bcficged Troy, (field, When their brauchopCjboldH ect oamarch'dto Stood manieTroianmoihcrsiharingioVj To fee theiryouthfull ions bright weapons wield, And to their hope they fuch odde action yccld. That through their 1 ight ioy feemcd to appeare, (Like bright thingsftaind) a kind of heauic feare. And from the ftrond of Dardan where they fought. To S I M o I s reedie bankes the red bloud ran, VVhofe wanes to imitate the battaile fought With fwelling ridges, and their rankes began To breake vppon the galled fliore, and than Retire againe, till meeting greater ranckes They ioinc, & Ihoot their fomeatSiMoisbancks, 11. 1422 1442 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE. To this well painted pcccc is Lvcrecb come. To find a face where all diftreflc is ftcld, Maiiie iliee fccsy where cares haue carued fomc, But none where all diftrcfle and dolor dv/eld, Till ihee difj'>ayring H e c v b a beheld, Staring on Priams wounds with her old eyes, VVhichblccdingvnderPiRRHVs proud foot lies. In her the Painter had anathomiz'd Times ruine, beauties wracke^and grim cares raign. Her cheeks with chops and wrincles were difguiz'd, Of what iliee was, no fen)blance did rcmaicc: Her bljswbloudchang'd.toblackeineneficvaincy VVar«ingthe fpring, that thofefhi'unke pipes had Shew'dlife imprifbn'd in a bodic dead. (fcd^ On this (ad fliaddw LvciiBd'Erp.ends her eyes. And ihapes heflforr-ow.-^o tli^ Bcddames woes, Who nothing wants to anfwer her but cries, And bitter words to ban ber cruell Foes. The Painter was no Cod' to lend her thofe. And therefore Lvcrece fwcars he did her wrong, To giue her To much griefe,and not a tong. Poorc 11. 1443— 1463 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE PoorcInftrument(i]ucthfhce)withcutafound, He tunc t hy woes with my Jamcniing tongiir, AndclroprwcctBalmein Priam s painted vvourxl,. Andrailcon i^irrhvs that hath done him wrongs And v.'iih my tears quench Troy that burns fo long; And with my knife fcratch out the angric eyes, Of all ihc Grcekes that are thine enemies. « Shew mc the ftrumpct that began this ftur, That with my nailes her beautic I may teare: Thy heat of luft fond Paris did incur This lode of wrath, that burning Troy doth bcarc^ Thy eye kindled the fire thatburncth here, And here In Troy for trefpaflc of thine eye, The Sire, the fonnc, the Dame,and daughter die. Why iliould the priuatc plcafurc of fome one Become the publicke plague of manic moc ? Let llnne alone committed, light alone Vppon his head that hath tranfgrefTed fo. Let guiltlcffc foules be freed from guilty woe, > For ones offence \n hy Ihould fo many fall ? ' To plague a priuate fcnc in generall. 11. 1464 — 1484 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE, Lohcrcwccps HicvBAjhcrc Priam dies, Here manly Hector faints^hcrcTROYLVs founds^ Here friend by friend in bloudic channel lies : And friend to friend giucs vnaduifcd wounds. And one mans luft thcfc manic lines confounds. » Had doting Priam chcckt his Tons defirc, ^ T a o Y had bin bright with Fame, &: not with fire. Here feelingly ihc weeps T r o y e s painted woes, For (brrow, like a heauic hanging Bell, Once kt on ringing, with his own waight goes, Then little ftrength rings out the dolcfull knell. So LvcRECEfeta worke, fad tales doth tell To pencel'd penliucncs, & colour'd forrow, (row, She lends them words, &: flic their looks doth bor- Sbee throwcsher eyes about the painting round, And who fhee finds forlornc,{hcc doth lament : At laQ: fliec fees a vrctchcd image bound. That piteous lookesj to Phrygian llicaphcards lent, His face though full of cares, yet Ihcw'd content, Onward to T r o y with the blunt f a ains he goes, So mild that patxacefcem'd to fcorne his woes. In 11. 1485— 1505 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Tn him the Paintcrlabour'd with his skill To hide dcceipt, and giuc the harmicffc Ihow An humble gatCjCalmclooks^eyeswaylingftil!, A brow vnbentthatfcem'd to welcome wo, Checks neither red,nor pale, but mingled (o, Thatblulliingred,no guiltie inftanccgauc. Nor afnie pale,thc feare thatfalfe hearts hauc. But like a conftant and confi: med Deuill, He entertain'd a ihow, fo fecming iull, And therein fo enfconc't his lecret euill^ That lealoufie it felfe could not miftrun:, Falfe creeping Craft, and Periuric iliould thruft Into fo bright a daic, fuch blackfac'd ftorms, Or blot with Hell-born iin iuch Saint-like forms. The well- skil'd Nvorkman this milde Image drew For periur'd S i n o n, whofc inchaunting ftoric The credulous old Priam after flew. Whofc words like wild fire burnt the ihining glorie Of rich-built III ion, thatthe skies were for ie. And little ftars (hot from their fixed places, VVhetheirgIasfe!,wherinthey view'dthcirfaces. L 11. 1506 — 1526 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. This pidurc fhec aduifcdly pcrufd, And chid the Painter for his wondrous skill : Sayingjfbmc Ihape in S i n o n s was abui'd, Sofaireaformelodg'dnot a mind fo ill, And ftill on him (hcc gaz'd, and gazing ftLII, Such fignesoftruthinhis plaine facclhccfpicd, That fhee concludes, the Pidurc was belied. It cannot be (quoth (he) that fo much guile, (Shce would haue faid) can lurke in fuch a looker But T A R CL^ I N s lhape,camc in her mind the while, And from her tongue, can lurk,fi-om cannot, tookc It cannot be, ihec in that fence forfookc. And turn'd it th us, It cannot be I find, But fuch a face fhould bcarc a wicked mind. Forcucnasfubtill Sinon here is painted. So fobcr fad, fb wcaric, and fo mildc, ( As if wi h gricfe or trauaile he had fainted) To me came Tar q^v i k armed to beguild With outward honeiHe, but yet defild With inward vicc,as Priam him did chcrifh : ' • So did I T A R Qv I N, fo my Troy did pcrifh. Lookc II. 1527— 1547 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Lookc lookc how liftning Priam wets his eyes, To fee thofc borrowed teares that S i non (hccd^, Priam why art thou old, and yet not wife? For cueric tearc he fals a Troian bleeds: His eye dropsfirc, no water ihencc proceeds, Thofe roud cleat pearls of his that moue thy pitty, Arc bals of quenchleffc fire to burne thy Citty. Such Dculls ftealc effeds from hghtlcOe HcH, For S I N o N in his fire doth quake with cold. And in that cold hot burning fire doth dwell, Thcfc contraries fuch vnitic do hold. Only to flatter foolcs, and make them bold, > So P R 1 A M s trull falie S I N o N s teares doth flatter, ^ That he finds means to burne his Troy with w ater. Here all inrag'd fuch paflion her aflailes. That patience is quite beaten from her breaft, Shec tears the fenccleflc S i n o n with her nailcs, Comparing him to that vnhappiegueft, V Vhofe deede hath made hcrfeifc, herfelfe dctcft, At laft fliee fmilingly with this giues ore, Foolc foo],quoth lhc,his wounds wil not be fore, L 2 11. 1548- 1568 THE RAPE OF L V C R E C E. Thus'cbs and flowes the currant of hcrforrow^ /. nd time doth wearic time with her complayrling^ Sheelooksfornighr,&thenfhcc longs for morrow, And both flice thinks too long with her remayning. . Short rime fecms long^inforrowes (harp fuftayningj ■> Thoughwobcheauic,yetitfeWomcflcepcs, ^ And they that watch, fee timc^how flow it creeps. V Vhicfh all this time hath ouerflipt her thought, 1 hat Ihee with painted Images hath fpent, P cincr from the feeling of her own gricfc brought. By deepe furmrfc of others detriment, Loofingher woes in (hews ofdifcontcnt : - > It eafethfome, though none it euer cured, ; . To thinke their dolour others haue endured. Butnow thctnindfull Mcflcngcrcomcbackc, Brings home his Lord and other companie. Who finds his Lvcrece clad in mourning black. And round about her teare-diftained eye Blew circles ftreanVd, like Rain- bows in the skic. Thefe watergalls in her dim Element, Foretell new ftormes to thofe alrcadic /pent. Which 11. 1569- 1589 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. VVhich when her fad beholding husband fa w^ Amazedlie in her fad face he flares ; Her eyes though fod in tears look'd red and raw^^ Her liuclie colour kil'd with deadlie cares. He hath no power to aske her how (hee fares, -Both ftood like old acquaintance in a trance. Met far from homcjwondring ech others chance. At lad he takes her by the bloudleffe hand. And thus begins : what vncouth ill euent Hath thee befalne, that thou doft trembling ftand?. Sweet loue what fpite hath thy faire colour fpent? Why art thou thus attir'd in difcontcnt ? V nmaskc deare deare, this moodle hcaulneflc. And tell thy griefe, that we may giue rcdreflc. Three times with fighes fhee giues her forrow fire. Ere once (hee can difcharj^e one word ofwoe :. At hnrnh addrel'l to anfwcr his deure, Shee modcftlie prepares, to let them know Her Honor is tane prifoncr by the Foe, V Vliile C o L A T I N E and his conforted Lords^ With fad attention long to heare her words*. 11. 1590 161O i is. THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. And now this pale Swan in her watrie neft. Begins thcfad Dirge of her certaine ending, Few words (quoth ftiee) (hall fit the trefpaffebeft^ Where no excufe can giueihe fault amending. In me moe woes then words are now depending. And my laments would be drawn out too long^ To tell them all with one poor c tired tong. Then be this all the taske it hath to fijr, Dearc husband in the intereft ofthy bed -. " Aftrangercame, andon that pillow lay, Where thou waft wont to reft thy wearie head, And what wrong elfe , . No no, quoth IheCjUo Dame hereafter liuingj '■ By my cxcufc lliallclaime cxcufcs gluing. Here 11. 1695— 1715 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. Here with a figh as if her heart would brcakc, Shcc throwcs forth Tarovins namc:hc he, flic faics, But more then he^hcr poorc tong could not fpcakc, Till after manic accents and dclaies, - Vntimelie breathings, fickcand lliort afTaics, Shcc vtters this, he he faire Lords, tis he That guides this hand to giue this wound to mc. • Eucn here flic llieathcd in her harmlefTe bread ' ■ A harmfull knife, that thence her foulc vnlheaihcd, That blow did bailcitfrom the deepevnrefl Of that polluted prifon, where it breathed: •Her contrite fighes vnto the clouds bequeathed He* winged Ipritc, 8c through her wouds doth flie • Liues lalHng date, from canccl'd dcQinie. Stone ftill,a{lonilht with this deadlic deed, Stood C o L A T I N E, and all his Lordly crew, Till L V c R E c E Father that beholds her bleed, ' Himfclfc, on her fclfenaughtrcdbodic threw, And from the purple fountaine B r v t v s drew The murdrous knife, and as it left the place. Her bloud in poorc rcucngc, held it in chafe. M 2 . ^ c ■■%>»M».^*VR^Ca.— ■!»— ^ rf*tt^a«t*ll»*-^W^ 11. I716 1736 THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. And bublingfrom her bred, it doth dculdc In two fiow riuersj that the crimfon bloud Circles her bodie in QHCueric fide, Who Hke a late fack't Hand vaftHe flood Bare and vnpcoplcd, in this fearfull flood. . ,. Some of her bloud ftill pure and red rcmain'd, o. And Com look'd black,& that falfc Tarqvin ftain'd. About the mourning and congealed face Of that blackc bloud^ a watrie rigoll goes, Which feemes to weep vpon the tainted place, Andeuerfinceaspittying Lvckece woes, Corrupted bloud, fome waterie token fhowes, -»• And bloud vntainted, ftill doth red abide, >■ Bluihing at that which is fo putrified. Daughter, deare daughter, oldLvcRETivs cries, Thatlife was mine which thou haft here depriusd, Ifin the childethefathcTS image lies, Where fhall I liue now L v c r e c e is vnliued ? Thou waft not to this end from me deriued. > If children praedeccafe progenitours, > • V Vc are tlicir offpring and they none of ours. Poorc 11. 1737— 1757 THE RAPE O F L V C R E C L poore broken glaffc, I often did behold •In thy {\vcct fcmblancc, my old age new borne, But now that faire fit iL mirror dim and old Shew cs mc a bare bon'd death by time out-wornc, O from thy chcekes my image thou haft tome, And lliiucrd all the beautic ofmy glaHe, That I no more can fee what once I was, O time ceafe thou thy courfe and laft no longer, If they furccafe to be that fhould furuiue : • • Shall rotten death make conqueft of the ftronger, And leaue the foultring feeble foules aliue? , The old Bees di^, the young pofleffe their hiuc, Then liuc fwect L v c r e c E^liue againc and fee Thy father die, and not thy father thee. By this ftarts Colatine as from a dreame, And bids Lvcrecivs giuc his forrow place, And than in key-cold L v c a e c e bleedingftrcamc He fals, and bathes the pale feare in his face. And countcrfaitstodie with hera fpacc. •Till manly (liame bids him poffeffe his breath, And Hue to be reuenged on her death. M 3 11. 1758 — 1778 •si THE RAPE OF LVCRECE. ..*.Thc decpc vexation ofhis inward foulc, ■y Hath feru'd a dumbc arrcfl: vpon his tongue, Who mad that fbrrowfliould his vfc control!, •■ Or keepe him from hcart-eafing words fo long, Begins to talke, but through his lips do throng - V Veakc wordsjfo thick come in his poor harts aid, Thatnoqian could diftinguiQi what he faid. Yet fbmetime T a r Qjr i n was pronounced plaine, But through his teeth, as if the name he tore, This windie tempeft, till it blow vp raine. Held backe his fbrrowes tide, to make it more. At laft it raines, and bufic windes giue ore, -o . Then fonne and father weep with equal! flrifc, I . Who fliuld weep moft for daughter or for wife, ^Thc one doth call her his, the other his, Yet neither may poflefle the claime they lay. The father faies,lhee's mine,6mine{heeis Replies her husband, do not take away My forrowes intcreft, let no mourner fay He weepes for her,for (hee was onely mine, And onelie mud be way I'd by C o l a t i n e, o, 11. 1779— 1799 THE RAPE Oy LVCRECE. O, quoth LvcREi ivs, I did giue that life V Vhich Ihcc to carcJy and too iatc hath fpil'd. V Voc w oc, (juoih C o L A T I N E, llicc was my wife, I owed her, and tis mine that ilicc hath kil'd. My daughtcrand my wife with clamors fiJd The difpcrft aire, who holding L v c r e c e life Anfwcr'd their cries, my daughter and my wife. Brvtvs who pluck't the knife from LvciiECEfide, Seeing fuch emulation in their woe, Began to cloath his wit in ftate and pride, E urying in L V c R 1 c E wound his follies ihow, He with the Romains was efteemed fo As fcelie ieering idiots arc with Kings, For /portiue words, and vttringfoolillnhings.. But now he throwcs that fliallow habit by. Wherein dcepe pollicic did him difguife. And arm'd his long hid w its aduiiedlie. To checke the teares in C o l a t i n v s elcs. Thou wronged Lord of Rome, quoth he5arire, 'Let my vnfounded fclfe fuppofd a foolc, ^ Now fct thy long cxpcricnc't wit to khoole. 11. 1800 — 1820 • ■ -■« THE RAPT. OF LVCRECE. jV Vhy C o L A T I N E, is woe the cure for woe > • J. Do wounds helpc wounds, or gricfc hclpc grccuous 'Is it rcuengc to giue thy [die a blow, (deeds? For his fowlc Ad, by whom thy fairc wife bleeds > Such childilh humor from wcakc mi iids proceeds, ^ Thy wretched wife miftookc the matter foy . .? . To flaie her fdfe that fhould hauc (lainc her Foe. Couragious Romaine, do not ftcepe thy hart -In fuch relenting dew of Lamentations, But kneeic with me and helpe to bcare thy part. To rowfe our Roma:inc Gods with inuocations, Jttorlt^^iU fufFcf thefe abhominations. (Since R^c her felf in the doth ftand difgraccd,) •By our ftrongarms fro forth her fair ftrectschaccd. Now by the Capitol! that wc adore, • Andbythischaltbloud foTniuftlic ftaincd, . By heaucns faire fun tliat breeds the fat earths ftorc, By all our countrey rights in Rome maintained, ' And by chart Lv c ji e c b foulc that late complained Her wrongs CO vs, and by this bloudie fctfiifc, •V Yc will rcucagc the death of this true ^(c. This 11. 1821— 1841 THE RAPE OFLVCRECE. This fayd, he ftrookc his hand vpon his brcaft. And kilt the fatal! knife to end his vow : ^ And to his protcftation vrg'd the reft, Who wondringathim, did his words allow, ThenioyntHetothcground their knees thcv bow. And that dccpe vow which Brvtvs made before, He doth againe repeat, and that they fwore. When they had fworne to this aduifcd doomc. They did conclude to bearc dead Lvcrece thence, To Ihew her bleeding bodie thorough Roomc, And (b to publifli Tar q^v i n s fowle offence^ Which being donejwithfpeedie diligence, The Romaines plaufibly didgiue confent, • To Tar COVINS euerlaftingbanifliment. N FINIS. 11. 1842 — 1855 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 1599 FACSIMILE LONDON HENRY FROWDE, M.A. PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD >i^:m*:sjj^:si^*B!§:^*i^^^*i^i^^^Si^^^*i^^^*^^^^*i^ * THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM I BEING A REPRODUCTION IN FACSIMILE OF THE FIRST EDITION 1599 FROM THE COPY IN THE CHRISTIE MILLER LIBRARY AT BRITWELL WITH INTRODUCTION AND BIBLIOGRAPHY BY SIDNEY LEE ox OXFORD; AT THE CLARENDON PRESS MDCCCCV * 4> *S^MJ* *B^B!si* OXFORD PHOTOGRAPHS AND LETTERPRESS BY HORACE HART, M.A. PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY CONTENTS PAGE INTRODUCTION TO THE TASSIONATE TILGRIM— I. The History of the Publication .... 7 II. ' Private ' manuscript Sources . III. The Contents of the Miscellany IV. The Editions of i(5i2, and kJ^o V. A Census of Copies . Illustrative Title-Pages — The edition of i(5i2, with Shakespeare's name. The edition of 16"! 2 without Shakespeare's name 20 SI SS SS FACSIMILE OF THE EDITION OF is 99 The Passionate Pilgrim is a collection of fourteen lyrical General pieces, with an appendix of six pieces of identical character \^^l^^ ^^' which are introduced by the separate title : *■ SONNETS To sundry notes of Musicke.' * The twenty pieces are of varied poetic merit.* Many have a touch of that < happy valiancy ' of rhythm and sentiment which is characteristic of the Elizabethan temper, but very {q'w betray that union of simple feeling with verbal melody which is essential to lyrical perfection. Several are little more than pleasant jingles describing phases of the tender passion with a whimsical artificiality. The poems are in varied metres. Nine take the form of regular sonnets or quatorzains 5 five are in the ^ The word ' sonnet * is here used in the common sense of * song '. The musical composer, William Byrd, published in 1587 his Fsalms^ Sonets^ and Songs of Sadness and Piet:e ^ but though he tells the reader that if he be disposed ' to bee merrie, heere are Sonets*, and heads a section of the book * Sonets and Pastorales ', no poem bearing any relation to the sonnet form is included. No 'quatorzain 'is included in the Appendix to T/ye Passionate Filgrim, of which the title may be paraphrased as * Songs set to various airs'. The ' sundry rotes of Musicke ' are only extant in the case of two poems ; but it may be inferred that, before publication, all the six 'Sonnets' were 'set' by contemporary composers. Oldys's guess, that John and Thomas Morley were the composers, is unconfirmed. Indirect evidence supports the conjecture that a lost edition of the Sonnets supplied the music. A poetic miscellany — 'Strange Histories' by Thomas Deloney — of like character to The Passionate Pilgrim and with similar typographical ornaments, has at the head of each piece in the i6cz edition (unique copy at Britwell) a line of musical notes, which is absent from other known editions. Again, of the poetic collection entitled ' The Teares or Lamentations of a Sorrowful! Soule, by Sir William Leighton ' two editions are known — one {1617,) giving the words only, and another (1^14) adding the music. ^ The total is usually given as twenty-one, but the pieces commonly numbered fourteen and fifteen form a single poem and are printed together in the 16^0 edition of Shakespeare's Poems ^ under the single heading ' Loath to depart '. J. P. Collier's proposal to divide the last piece also into two has been wisely ignored by recent editors. In the original editions the separate pieces were not numbered. Malone, in his reprint of Tke Passionate Pilgrim in his •f/c///?- »7fzr/(i7?o), wasthefirst editor to introduce a consecutive numerical notation. 8 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM common six-line stanza which Shakespeare employed in his Venus and Adonis \ two are in seven-syllabled riming couplets j one is in four-lined stanzas alternately rimed ; and three are in less regular metres, which were specially adapted for musical accompaniment. Internal and external evidence alike confute the assertion of the title-page that all the contents of the volume were by Shakespeare. No more than five poems can be ascribed with confidence to his pen. Of the remaining fifteen, five were assigned without controversy to other hands in Shakespeare's lifetime J two were published elsewhere anonymously j and eight, although of uncertain authorship, lack all signs of Shakespeare's workmanship. A study of the facts attending the volume's publication shows, moreover, that it was not designed by Shakespeare, and that in its production he had no hand. William T^he Passionate Pilgrim owed its origin to the speculative jaggaid. boldness of the publisher, William Jaggard, who, according to the title-page, caused the book to be printed. Jaggard deserves respectful mention by the student of Shakespeare in virtue of the prominent part he took in the publication of the First Folio Edition of Shakespeare's Plays in 1^23. He was at the head of the syndicate of stationers who defrayed the cost of that noble undertaking, and at his press the great volume was printed. The enterprise of the First Folio was the closing episode in Jaggard's career. It belonged to the zenith of his prosperity. He died at the moment that the work was completed.' The Passionate Pilgrim was a somewhat insolent tribute paid by Jaggard to Shakespeare's reputation * Mr. William Jaggard, of Liverpool, who is engaged on a full biography of his namesake, kindly informs me that the Elizabethan publisher's will was dated March 18, i6'i3, and proved on November 17 following. THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM ^ four and twenty years earlier. The publisher had just then begun business for himself, and his prospects were still insecure. Every detail in the history of the enterprise pertinently illustrates the unscrupulous methods which the customs of the trade encouraged the Elizabethan publisher to pursue. But it is erroneous to assume that it was reckoned by any extensive public opinion of the day personally discreditable in Jaggard to publish under Shakespeare's name work for which the poet was not responsible. In all that he did Jaggard was justified by precedent, and he secured the countenance and active co-operation of an eminent member of the Stationers' Company, whose character was deemed irreproachable. William Jaggard, who was Shakespeare's junior by some Jaggard's five years, having been born in 1^6^^ enjoyed a good prelimi- ^^^'>'"'"^' nary training as a publisher. His fither, John Jaggard, citizen and barber-surgeon of London, died in William's boyhood, and he and a brother, John, both apprenticed themselves on the same day, September 29, i ^84, to two highly reputable printers and publishers, each of whom was in a large way of business and owned as many as three presses.' Henry Denham, William's master, twice Under- Warden of the Stationers' Company, lived at the sign of the Star in Paternoster Row. John's master was the veteran Richard Tottel, twice Master of the Stationers' Company, who won lasting fame at the outset of his career by his production in 15-5-7 of that first anthology of English verse which is commonly known as TottePs Miscellany.^ Tottel's ^ For the details and dates in the career of Jaggard and his brother I am indebted to Mr. Arber's Transcript of the Stationers' Registers. ^ The full title of this volume, of which The Passionate Fllgrlm was a descendant, ran : — ' Songes and Soneties^ written by the ryght honorable Lorde Henry Howard, late Earle of Surrey, and other. Apud Richardum Tottel, ifT?-' The book reached an eighth edition in 1587. B lo THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM place of business was at the sign of the Hand and Star in Fleet Street, within Temple Bar, between the two Temple gates, and there his young apprentice helped him in 15-87 to prepare an eighth edition of his popular anthology. In due course the brothers were admitted freemen of the Company, William on December 6, lypi, and John next year, on August 7, 1^92. They were thus fully qualified to play their part in the history of English publishing, when Shakespeare was winning his earliest laurels. tqj^j^ John's career only indirectly concerns us here. He jaggardjsuc- became assistant to his old master Trttel, and in i5'9 7, four Richard ycars after TottePs death, was established in Tottel's well- Tottei. seasoned house of business, the Hand and Star in Fleet Street. Though he did not acquire TottePs printing-presses, and never printed for himself, he rapidly made a name as a publisher and bookseller. Among his publications were two editions of Fairfax's great translation of Tasso's Gerusalemme Liherata^ and the third, fourth, and fifth editions of Bacon's Essays (i(5o<5, idi2, i<^i3). He entered the livery of his Company July 3, i(5o2, and acted as Warden in 1(^19 and 1610. William William, whose rise was less rapid, was a rougher-tempered jaggard s ^-^.^^^ ^j^^^^ ]^ jg brother, and never obtained office in his Com pany. early Strug- ' _ ^ •' gle, 1J94- He began business on his own account in i5'94, acquiring °^' premises, which have no ascertainable history, at the east end of the churchyard at St. Dunstan's-in-the-West, in Fleet Street. There, for eleven years, he published books on a limited scale. He owned no printing-press, and his operations were restricted. His But in idoy his position completely changed. He acquired yearr'°"^ a preponderating interest, which he soon converted into a sole t6oj-2 3. interest, in the old-established printing business of James Roberts, in the Barbican. Thenceforth his fortunes were not in doubt. Between 160^ and i<^2 3, the year of his death, he THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM n carried on one of the largest printing businesses in London, and produced and published many imposing folios besides the First Folio of Shakespeare's Plays. In 1611 he became printer to the City of London; in 161^ he purchased from his partner Roberts the right of printing <■ the players' bills ' or theatrical programmes; and in idi8 he issued 'A catologve of such English Bookes as lately haue bene and now are in Printing for Publication ', which he promised to continue half-yearly. The reputation of his press for typographical accuracy was never high, but he violently denounced any authors who were bold enough to complain of its defects. The year 15-99, during which Jaggard produced T/;^ His first Passionate Pilgrim^ was long anterior to the prosperous period P"'''^^^"^"^' of his life, which opened in i6oy with the control of Roberts' press. Before 1J99 he would seem to have published not more than two or three books. The first extant book, on the title-page of which his name figures, was a sermon preached by John Dove at St. Paul's Cross, Nov. 3, 1^94, which came out before the close of that year. The title-page stated that it was printed ' by P. S. [i. e. Peter Short] for W. Jaggard '. Next year there was issued a new edition of the pedestrian verse of William Hunnis called Hunnies ^creations. The imprint was the same, with the addition of Jaggard 's address in Fleet Street. The Stationers' Company granted no licence for the publication of either of these books, and in fact Jaggard obtained only one licence from the Company before the end of the sixteenth century. On January 23, 15-97-8, he was duly authorized by the Company to publish an embroidery pattern book, called The true perfection of Cuttrvorkes^ of which no copy has been met with. Jaggard was no slave of legal formalities. It was the exception rather than the rule for him to seek a licence B 2 12 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM for the publication of a book. Though he published several books in the interval, he did not seek a second licence until March i5, i<^0 3, when he obtained one for a work appro- priately called 'The Anatomic of Sinne, He faced the risk of punishment for his defiance of the law, and, when a penalty was exacted, paid it without demur.' His two un-; No extant book which bears Jaggard's name came out in Vj 99.'^^ during the three years \^^6^ 15-97, and 15-98. In 15-99 ^^^ volumes appeared with the intimation on the title-page that they were * printed for W. Jaggard'.^ In neither case was the Stationers' Company made officially cognizant of Jaggard's operations. Oi these two volumes, one was Thomas Hill's School e of Ski/, an astronomical treatise in black letter, which was stated to be * printed for W. Jaggard ' at the press of T. Judson. The other was The Passionate Pi/grim, the imprint of which declared that it was 'Printed for W. Jaggard, and are to be sold by W. Leake at the Greyhound in Paules Churchyard '. William William Leake's association with the venture guaranteed it against official censure. He was a prominent and respected member of the Stationers' Company. He had joined the livery the year before, and subsequently became assistant (i ^04) and Master (161%). Before associating himself with Jaggard's venture of The Passionate Pi/grim, he had given notable proof of interest in Shakespeare's work. On June 25-, iyc)6, he had acquired the copyright of /^emis and Adonis from John ^ On October 23, i6'oo, William Jaggard and a kindred spirit, Ralph Blower, were fined by the Stationers' Companyi^j. %d.{ox 'printingwithout license and contrary to order a little booke of Sir Anthony Sherley's Travels ', and all ' the said books so printed ' were forfeited by the Company. The offenders were threatened with imprisonment in default of compliance with the judgement, but Jaggard cheerfully paid his share of the fine on Sept. 7, i6'oi, and purged his offence. Cf. Arber, ii. 831, 833. =" The preposition *for' in the imprint of Elizabethan books usually precedes the name of the proprietor of the copyright. Leake's co- operation THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 13 Harrison, who had bought it from its first holder, Richard Field, three years before. Leake retained his property in Shakespeare's earliest printed book for nearly twenty-one years. His first edition of Venus and Adonis appeared in 15-99, i^ the same year as the first edition oi The Passionate Pilgrim^ and on the title-pages of both volumes figured his address — * the Greyhound in Paules Churchyard.' ' Thus in i ^9 9, a year after Leake was clothed with the livery of his Company, two newly printed volumes, which were identified with Shake- speare's name and fame, adorned for the first time the shelves of his shop in St. Paul's Churchyard. The unnamed printer of T^he Passionate Pilgrim was doubt- Peter Short, less Peter Short, who had printed for Jaggard the only volume P""*^^'- of verse which he is known to have undertaken previously, viz. Hun/lies J^ecreations^ in 1S9S' Short also printed for Jaggard his first book. Dove's Sermon^ in i5'94. Short's print- ing office was at 'the Star on Bread Street Hill, near to the end of Old Fish St.' ; his business was a large one and many volumes of verse came from his press. Not only had he printed recently the work of the poets Spenser and Daniel, but he had produced for Leake the two editions of Venus and Adonis which appeared respectively in if 99 and 1(^02, as well as Harrison's edition of Shakespeare's Lucrece in iy98. More than one song-book, with the literary contents of which The Passionate Pilgrim had close affinity, also came from his press — one in the same year as Jaggard's miscellany, viz. ' Ayres for four Voyces composed by Michael Cavendish '.^ The typographical quality of the first edition of Jaggard's ' These premises enjoyed a traditional fame. They had been long in John Harrison's occupation, until at the close of 1^96 Leake took them over j he remained there till 16^02. - Cf. Feter Shorty Printer ^ and his Marks^ by Silvanus P. Thompson, F.R.S. (Bibliograph. Soc), 1898. 14 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM Typographi- misccllany is not high. Misprints abound. Numerous lines and cha?a^c- ^^^ ^^ ^^^7 Stand barely intelligible. Such defects were tciistics. mainly due to imperfections in the ^ copy ', but they bear witness, too, to hasty composition and to carelessness on the part of the press corrector. Few of the irregularities are beyond the ingenuity of a conscientious overseer to remo^'e. In Poem IX, the second line of the sonnet is omitted. There is only one catchword in the whole ^'olume, viz. ' Lord ', at the foot of B 8 (recto). Capitals within the line are not very common, but are employed most capriciously. In Sonnet IV, three of the fourteen lines begin with small letters instead of capitals. At V, 1. 7, * eases ' rimes with ' there '. Spelling eccentricities which are scarcely to be differentiated from misprints, include — II, 1. 12, 'ghesse' for ^guess'; V, 1. i, 'deawy' for 'dewy ' j XIII, 1, 10, 'symant'for 'cement'; XIV, 1. if, 'scite' for ' cite ' ; ' scence ' for ' sense ' (the word ' sense ' is correctly spelt VIII, l.d); 1. 19,'ditte'for 'ditty'; XVII, I. 4, 'nenying' for 'renying'; 1. 8, 'a nay' for 'annoy'; I. 12, 'wo wen for ' women ' ; XVIII, 1. 34,' prease ' for ' press ' ; 1. f i, ' th' are ' for ' the ear '. The volume was a small octavo and the meagre dimensions of the ' copy ' led the printer to set the type on only one side of the leaf in the case of twenty-five of the twenty-eight leaves of text. At tlie top and bottom of each page of text is an ornamental device of ordinary pattern — no uncommon feature in small volumes of verse of the period. II jaggard's The part that Jaggard played throughout the enterprise piece ents foUowcd abuudaut precedents. It was common practice for publishers to issue, under a general title of their own devising, scattered pieces of poetry of varied origin. His brother's master, Tottel, had inaugurated the custom in 15- 5-7, THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM ij- and TotiePs Miscellany had a numerous progeny. Nor was Jaggard the only publisher arbitrarily to assign the whole of a miscellaneous anthology to some one popular pen. Opportunities for gathering material for such anthologies abounded. Printed books, for example, novels and plays, which were interspersed with songs, could always be raided with im- punity. But it was from manuscript sources that the antho- logical publishers sought their most attractive wares. Short poems circulated very freely in manuscript copies through Eliza- bethan England. An author would offer a friend or patron Manuscript a poetic effusion in his own handwriting. Fashion led the ^^"^• recipient to multiply transcripts at will as gifts for other worshippers of the Muses. There were amateurs who col- lected these flying leaves in albums or commonplace books.' The author exerted no definable right over his work after the MS. left his hand. His name was frequently omitted from the transcript. A publisher, in search of ' copy ', recognized no obligation to consult the writer of unprinted verse before he sent it to press. It might be to his interest to enlist the aid of an amateur collector in extending his collections, and to him he might be ready to make some acknowledgement. But the author's claim to mention was usually disregarded alto- gether. As often as not, both collector and publisher were in ignorance of the name of the author of unsigned poems which ' Numerous manuscript collections of verse, which were formed by amateurs of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, are extant in the British Museum, the Bodleian Library, and in private hands. Mr. Henry Huth printed for private circulation in 1870 interesting specimens of such collections in private hands, in the volume entitled Inedited Voetical Miscellanies^ if 84.- 1700. Some Elizabethans seem to have collected with an eye to business, and to have deliberately handed their collections over to publishers for some unknown consideration. Such an one was John Bodenham, to whom the publishers of England's Helicon (k^oo), Belvedere (i6'oo), and other miscellanies of the time, acknowledged indebtedness. Bodenham was hailed in a preliminary sonnet before Belvedere as ' First causer and collector of these flowers ', 1 6 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM fell into their hands. In that contingency, the publisher deemed it within his right to append in print what signature he chose.' Evidence of Jaggard's fraudulent methods of work as an anthologist Hshcis^of' ^^^ capable of almost endless illustration. A venture of anthologies, the year in which Jaggard became a freeman of the Stationers' Company precisely anticipates Jaggard's conduct in printing in a single volume < small poems' by various pens, which were 'dispersed abroad in sundrie hands', and in attri- buting them all on the title-page to one author who was only responsible for a icw of them. A well-known stationer, Richard Jones, issued in 15-91 an anthology which he called Brittons Br'ittofis Bowrc of Delights. Jones represented this volume to ^ndn "^ ^^ ^ collection of lyrics by Nicholas Breton, a poet who was 1^9 1. just coming into fame. The poet had no hand in the publi- cation, and was piqued to discover on perusing it that it was a miscellany of poems by many hands, in which the publisher had included two or three of his own composition from scattered manuscript copies. Next year, in the prefatory note of his Pilgrmage to Paradise ^ Breton stated the facts thus : — ' Gentlemen, there hath beene of late printed by one Richarde loanes, a printer, a bookc of english verses, entituled Bretons bower of delights : I protest it was donne altogether without my consent or knowledge , and many thinges of other mens mingled with a few of mine, for except Amoris Lachrimae : an epitaphe vpon Sir Phillip Sydney, and one or two other toies, which 1 know not how he vnhappily came by. I have no part of any of the : and so I beseech yee assuredly beleeue.' But the author wasted his protest on the desert air. He had no means of redress. ' Cf. Wither's Scholars Purgatcry {c. i6'i5'), p. lai : ^If he [i.e. the Stationer] gett any written Coppy into bis powrc, likely to be vendible, whether the Author be willing or no, he will publish it j And it shall be contriued and named alsoe, according to his owne pleasure : which is the reason, so many good Bookcs come forth imperfect, and with foolish titles.' THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 17 The publisher Jones was indifferent to the complaint, and in 1 5-94 he exposed the poet Breton to the like indignity for a second time. Very early in that year Jones published, with the licence of his Company, a new miscellany which he called 'T/;^ Arbor of Amorous Deuices . . . by N. B. Gent.' In a preliminary epistle To the Gentlemen Reader s^ he boldly called attention to the fact that < this pleasant Arbor for Gentlemen ' was ' many mens workes, excellent Poets, and most, not the meanest in estate and degree'. Jones' new miscellany consisted of thirty short poems. Breton was only responsible for six or seven of them, yet the title-page ascribed all of them to him.' Two volumes of the utmost literary interest, which were also issued in lypi, illustrate how readily poetic manuscripts fell, without the knowledge of the author or his friends, into a publisher's clutches. Firstly, in that year, Thomas Newman, a stationer of small account, discovering that Sidney's Sidney's sonnets were <■ spread abroad in written copies ', put them into f,""''^' print on his own initiative, together with an appendix of ' sundry other rare Sonnets ', which he ascribed to divers anonymous ' noblemen and gentry '. Samuel Daniel, the poet, soon discovered to his dismay that Newman, without giving him any hint of his intention, had made free in the ' Of each of these miscellanies assigned to Breton only single copies are now known to be extant ; they are even rarer than The Fassionate Tilgrlm. A unique copy of the Boiuer is at Britwell, and a unique copy of the Ari^or (defective and without title-page) is in the Capell collection at Trinity College, Cambridge. Another example of the assignment by an adventurous publisher of a collection of miscellaneous poems to a single author, whereas the contents of the volume were from many pens, is offered by the second edition of Constable's D/<7»^, issued by James Roberts in 155)4.. The printer, Richard Smith, distributed twenty-one genuine sonnets by Constable, which he had brought out in a separate and authentic volume in 15"^!, through a collection of seventy-five sonnets, of which fifty-four were by ' other honourable and learned personages '. Eight of the supplementary poems, which the publisher Smith connected with Constable's name, were justly claimed for Sir Philip Sidney in the authorized collection of his works in I5'5)8. C i8 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM Spenser's Complaints^ 159I. Publishers' habit of wrongly giv- ijig authors' names. appendix with written copies of twenty-three sonnets by himself which had not been in print before ; they appeared anonymously in Newman's volume. Secondly, in 1 5-91, William Ponsonby published a little collection of Spenser's verse, in a volume on which he and not the author bestowed the title of Complamts. In an address * To the gentle Reader ' Ponsonby announced that he had < endevoured by all good means ... to get into his handes such smale Poemes of the same Authors as he heard were disperst abroad in sundrie hands and not easie to bee come by by himselfe, some of them having been diverslie im- beziled and purloyned from him since his departure Oversea '. The printer expressed the hope that Complaints might be the forerunner of a second collection of * some other Pamphlets looselie scattered abroad ', for which he was still searching. Further illustration of various points in Jnggard's procedure may be derived from yet two other poetic anthologies, which came out a year later than The Passionate 'Pilgrim^ y'vl. England"* s Helicon^ an admirable collection of Elizabethan lyrics, four of which also find a place in Jaggard's \'olume j and Belvedere^ or the Garden of the Muses^ an ample miscellany of elegant extracts. In the address to the reader prefixed to England"* s Helicon reference is made to the grievance that another man's name was often put in such works to an author's poems, but the wrong done was treated by the publisher oi England"* s Helicon as negligible.' The Belvedere anthology indicates the superior ' To the complaint of stationers, that their copies 'were robbed' and their copyright ignored by these collections, the compiler o^ E?igland' s Helicoji makes answer that no harm can be done by quotation when the name of the author is appended to the extract, and the most eminent poets are represented in the miscellany. As the author's name was usually cither omitted or given wrongly, the apologist for Jaggardian methods offers very cold comfort. THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 19 importance whicli the publishers attached to < private ', or Publishers' unpublished pieces, above ' extant ', or pieces which were ^'^^^"^[p' already in print. The compiler of Belvedere claims credit poems'. for having derived his material not merely from printed books, but from ^private poems^ sonnets^ ditties and other witty conceits . . . according as they could be obtained by sight or favour of copying '. In the case of Spenser, Daniel, Drayton, Shakespeare, Marlowe, Barnfield,and many other living authors whom he named, he had drawn not merely ' from many of tlieir extant (i. e. published) workes ', but from ' some kept in private '. Of five recently dead authors he stated he had ^ perused ' not only their 'divers extant labours' but ^ many more held back^from publishing'^ . In christening his volume, Jaggard illustrated the habit The name which Georee Wither had in mind when he wrote of the °U^sp^'^* o miscellany. Stationer that ' he oftentymes giues bookes such names as in his opinion will make them saleable, when there is little or nothing in the whole volume sutable to such a tytle'/ The title which Jaggard devised has no precise parallel, but it does not travel very far from the beaten track. The ordinary names which were bestowed on poetic miscellanies of the day were variants of a somewhat different formula, as may be deduced from the examples 'Bower of Delights', 'Handful of Pleasant Delights ', and ' Arbor of Amorous Devices '. The Affectionate Shepheard^ a collection of poems by Richard Barnfield, which appeared in 15-94, approaches Jaggard's designation more nearly than that of any preceding extant volume of verse.^ ' Scholars Furgaiory (r. 16^x5'), p. 11 a. ^ The similitude is not quite complete. Although Barnfield*s book includes many detached pieces, the title of the whole applies particularly to the opening and longest poem of the volume. Jaggard's general title does not apply to any individual item of the book's contents. C 2 20 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM Jaggard used the word < passionate ' in the affected sense of * amorous '.' ' Passionate ' in that signification was a con- ventional epithet of ^shepherd' and ' (Act y, Sc. I (4to), Sign. I 2, back). John Ford imitated the song in his Fancies (Act IV, Sc. i) in the lines :-_ Crabbed age and youth Cannot jump together j One is like good luck. T'other like foul weather. The piece was included in Percy's Reli^ues (ed. Wheatlcy, i. 23 7). 40 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM not peculiarly Shakespearean. It is constantly met with not merely in contemporary narrative poetry, but in ballads and lyrics of the popular anthologies, as well as in 'words' for madrigals and part-songs in song-books.' But Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis was the most notable example of its em- ployment within Jaggard's and Leake's experience. None of Jaggard's five poems in six-lined stanzas are met with in print elsewhere. All are pitched in a more or less amorous key, and treat without much individuality of the tritest themes of the Elizabethan lyrist. No. VII (' Fair is my loue ') is an indictment of a beauti- ful mistress's fickleness^ No. X ('Sweet rose, faire flower') is an eleg}" on the premature death of a fair friend j No. XIII (' Beauty is but a vaine and doubtful good ') is a lament on the evanescence of beauty j No. XIV (' Good night, good rest ') is a lover's meditation at night and dawn j No. XVIII ('When as thine eye hath chose the dame ') is an ironical lecture on the art of wooing. The sentiment and phraseology of each of these poems can be paralleled as easily as the metre. Greene, who wrote many songs in the six-line stanza, anticipates Jaggard's seventh and thirteenth poems in two lyrics which are inserted in two of his romances, respectively Perimedes the Blacke-Smith (iy8 8) and Alc'ida^ Greenes 'Metamorphosis (^iCQW'hQ^di for the press 15-88). A song in the former romance begins with the same words as Jaggard's poem No. VII, viz. 'Fair is my loue ', and continues in a like strain : — Faire is my loue for Aprill is her face, Hir louely brests September claimes his part. And lordly July in her eyes takes place, ^ In John Farmer's Tirst set of English Madrigals ^ which appeared in 1599 at the same time as Jaggard's volume, twelve of the seventeen numbers, and in Weelkes* Madrigals in six parts^ which came out a year later, seven of the ten numbers, are in six-line stanza. THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 41 But colde December dwelleth in her heart ; Blest be the months, that sets my thoughts on fire, Accurst that Month that hindreth my desire.' In Greene's second tract, Mcida^ the verses beginning : — Beauty is vaine, accounted but a flowre. Whose painted hiew fades with the summer sunne.^ adumbrate Jaggard's thirteenth poem : — Beauty is but a vaine and doubtful good . . . A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud.^ Again, the ironical advice to the wooer, which constitutes Jaggard's poem XVIII, is little more than a repetition of passages in two poems in the six-lined stanza, which were already in print. ^ Greene's Works, ed. Grosart, vii. 90. ^ lb. ix. 87. ^ There are endless Elizabethan poems in the six-lined stanza which are in sentiment and phrase as well as metre hardly distinguishable from this effort of The Tassio7iate Tilgrim. The stanza numbered xxxiii in the * Sonnets' appended to J. C.^'s Aldlla^ which appeared in I5'5)5', runs : — Though thou be fair, think Beauty but a blast ! A morning's dew ! a shadow quickly gone 1 A painted flower, whose colour will not last ! Time steals away, when least we think thereon. Most precious time ! too wastefuUy expended ; Of which alone the sparing is commended. Cf. the sonnet attributed to Surrey in Totters Miscellany (p. lo), headed 'The frailtie and hurtfulness of beautie', which opens: — Brittle beautie, that nature made so fraile, Wherof the gift is small, and short the season. In Davison's Foetkal Rhapsody (i6oi.) was first printed ' An invective against love *, which contains the stanza : — Beauty the flower so fresh, so fair, so gay. So sweet to smell, so soft to touch and taste. As seems it should endure, by right, for aye, And never be with any storm defaced; But when the baleful southern wind doth blow, Gone is the glory which it erst did show. Davison assigns this poem to the unidentified contributor < A. W.', and it was appropriated by the publisher of the second edition of England's Helicon 42 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM In < Willobie his Auisa ' (i 5'94), canto 44, one « W. S. ' is represented as giving in the same metre identical counsel to a love-lorn friend * H. W.' : — Apply her still with dyuers thinges (For giftes the \v)^sest will deceave) Sometymes with gold, sometymes with ringes, No tyme nor fit occasion leaue, Though coy at first she seeme and wielde, These toyes in tyme will make her yielde. The poem in The Pasnonate Vtlgnm varies little : — And to her will frame all thy waies, Spare not to spend, and chiefly there. Where thy desart may merit praise By ringing in thy Ladies eare, The strongest castle, tower and towne, The golden bullet beats it downe.' A contem- These five poems were certainly derived by Jaggard N"^^xvm^ from * private' manuscripts, and doubtless many transcripts were in existence in his day in unpublished poetical collec- tions. Only one of these lyrics (No. XVIII) has survived in a contemporary < copy ', but the variations from Jaggard 's version are numerous enough to show that he used another and less satisfactory manuscript. Before 1790 Dr. Samuel Lysons lent a contemporary manuscript poetic miscellany, con- taining a difierent version, to Malone, who in his edition of 1790 adopted many of its readings. At the sale of Benjamin ' *A Sonnet' (in seven stanzas of six ten-syllabled lines) in the anthology known as Deloney's Strange Histories or Song of Sonettes (probably published in 1 55) y, although no earlier edition than that of idea is extant) deals in much the same temper with the same topic : — Next, shew thyself that thou hast gone to schoole, Commende her wit although she be a foole. Speake in her prayse, for women they be proud ; Looke what she sayes for trothe must be aloude. If she be sad, look thou as sad as shee ; But if that she be glad, then joy with merry glee. THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 43 Hey wood Bright's library in 1 8 84, the MS. passed to Halliwell, who gave in his Folio Shakespeare, vol. xvi, p. 4 (5 (J, a facsimile of the « very early MS. copy of this poem with many varia- tions '. Halliwell dated the compilation of the poetical miscellany < some years before the appearance o£Tbe Passionate Pilgrim'*, In the MS., stanzas 3 and 4 change places with stanzas r and 6. For Jaggard's unintelligible 1. 4, As well as fancy [partyall mtght\ the MS. reads : As well as fancy, partial like. In line 1 2 of the MS., And set thy person forth to sell is an improvement on Jaggard's And set her person forth to sale. In 1. 14 the MS. reads : — Her cloudy lookes will clear ere night for Jaggard's Her cloudy lookes will calme yer night. In 11. 4 3 -(J the MS. gives : — Think, women love to match with men, u^nd not to live so like a saint : Here is no heaven^ they holy then Begin ^ when age doth them attaint. Jaggard's less satisfactory version runs : — Thinke Women still to striue with men, To sinne and neuer for to Saint, There is no heauen [by holy then) When time with age shall them attaint. Finally, in line 5-1 the MS. reads : — She will not stick to ringe my eare F 2 44 THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM No. XIII. Suppositi- tious MS. Theory of Barnfield's authorship of the poems in six-line stanzas. and Jaggard reads : — She will not stick to round me on th' are. The poem No. XIII (' Beauty is but a vaine ') was printed in ijyo in the Gentlemajps Maga^iric^ vol. xx, p. 5*2 1, under the title < Beauty's Value by Wm. Shakespeare. From a corrected MS.' This was reprinted with what was claimed to be greater accuracy in the same periodical ten years later (vol. XXX, p. 3 9). The variations are not important, and have a too pronouncedly eighteenth-century flavour to establish their pretension to greater antiquity. In line 7, where Jaggard reads : — j4nd as goods lost, are seld or never found, the GejitlematPs JSlagaTJne manuscript reads : — As goods Tvhefi lost are wond'rous seldom found. To improve the rhymes < refresh ' and ' redress ' (at the end of lines 8 and 10 respectively), the 'corrected' manu- script reads awkwardly ' excite ' in the first case and < unite ' in the second. There can be little question that search must be made elsewhere for any contemporary illustration of this poem of Jaggard 's miscellany. The authorship of these five poems, which Jaggard first printed from manuscript, can in the present state of the evidence be matter for conjecture only. It is very possible that they are from Barnfield's pen. Barnfield was a volumi- nous writer, and not all his verse found its way to the printing-press. Much of it circulated in manuscript only, and is still extant in that medium.' It is probable, moreover, ' Dr. Grosart printed in full, in his edition of Barnfield's Toems for the Rox- burghe Club, a 'manuscript' commonplace book bearing Barnfield's autograph, which was in the library of Sir Charles Isham of Lamport Hall. The volume contained some previously unprinted poems from Barnfield's pen together with transcripts of others* work. The first page gives, without indication of its THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM 45- that much of it was entrusted to William Jaggard's brother John, who printed an ample but by no means exhaustive selection from it in 15-9 8. Barnfield's imitative habit of mind rendered the six-lined stanza, which Shakespeare had glorified in his Venus and Jdonis^ a favourite instrument, and the internal quality of the many six-line stanzas in The Passionate Pilgrim justifies the theory that Barnfield was their author, at any rate of those of them that are in a serious vein. IV It may be assumed, although the indications are obscure. Popularity that despite its equivocal claims to respectful notice, Jaggard's oO^gp""^* venture met with success. There is small doubt that the compiler of the popular anthology called England's Helicon^ which appeared next year, was influenced by the example of the publisher of The Passionate Pilgrim. The former printed four of Jaggard's ' Sonnets To sundry notes of Musicke ', viz. XVI, ' On a day, alack the day ', from Love's Labour'' s Lost\ XVII, Barnfield's O, Loues beft habitc is a foothing tonne. And Age ' m Louc) loues net to haue yearcs told. Therhore lit lye with Loue, and Louc with mc, Smcc that our faults in Louc thus f»oihct d be. A5 fKJ •T-\Vo Loues I haue, of Comfort, and Defpairc, Thac hke two Spines, do fucgcit n^ Uill : My better Ani^cU is a Man (right fane) >Av worfcr fpirite a Woman (colour d ill.) To wmne mc ioonc to hell, my Female cuul Tcmptcth my bctccr Angcll trommy fide. And would corrupt mv Saint to be a DiucL, X^'ooins, his purity with her fauc pndc. Knd whether that my Angcllbc turndcfccnd> J.urpcdImav(yetnotdireftiYtcll: J^or being both to me r both, to each fncnd, IgWeft* one Ancell in mothers hcU: The truth I {hall not know, but hue in doubt, Ttll my bad Angcii fire my good one out, A ♦ r^Id not the heauenly Rhetonke of ihinc ci^ Gainft whom tae world could not hold argumcr, Perfwade my han to this talle pcnunc : Vowesfur thcc broke defer lic not ^•uniihrncnt. A woman 1 todworc : but I will pioue Thou bang a Goddcifc, I forGvorc not thcc : My vow was earthly, thou a heauenly loue. Thy grace bemg gamde, cures all dilgracc m mc. My vow was breath, and breath a vaj>or is, Then thou taire Sun,ihat on this earth doth lliinc, Exhale this vapor vow, in thcc it is : If broken, then It IS no tault of m,ne. If by me broke, what toolc is not To wife To breake an Oath, to win a Paiauife i ^WcctCycherea, ficcinjby a Brooke, ^With ycKrtc; Adonis, loucly , fircfli and grccnr. Did comt die Lad wall manv a loucly 1 jokc, Suth lookc<; as none could !■ >o(;c hue bcavuvi t|uecn. She told him irorits, to dc'iglu his carcb . She ihcw d hjm fauors, to alluie hi; eic : To win his hare, liie touchc him here and ihcic. Touches fo loft ibll conquer chaftitie. But whcdicr vnripc ye arcs did want conceit. Or he rcfufdc to take her figured j'toMcr, The tender niblcr would not toucli the bait. But fmilc, and leaft, at eucry gentle offer : 1 hen fell (he on hcrbacke,t2ire queen, & toward He rofe and ran away, ah toolc too froward- I^ Louc make nae foHVorn, how fiial I fwcrc to iotc? O, ncucr faith could hold, it Hot to beauty vowed : Tiv )ugh to m\' feltc toriWorn, to thtc lie conftam prouc, ihofc thoghts to me like Okcs,to ihec like Oficrs bowed. Smddy hi^ byas leaues, and makes his bocdcc thine e;cs, where all thole plealures hue, that Art can comprchcndr It knowledge be the markc,to know thee Ihall lufficc : Wei learned is that toung that well can thee comment. All ign oranr that I'oule, that feeb thee without wonder, Whicli IS to me fomc praifc, that I thy paits admire : Thmceycloueshghtningleemsjthv voice his dreadhiH vv Juih(not to anger bcnt)i!> miihck & iWcct farc(chunda ("clcftiall as thou art, O, do not touc thit wrong • T« 'ing licaucns praiie, with ludi an eanhJy toung. ^.f^( ^Carfehid the Sunae dndc vp the dcawy monrc, *^And fcarfc the heard gonrto the hcd-'cnx liiadef WhcnCychcrea (alJ in Lou; torlornc) A longing tariancc for Adonii mndc Vnder an Ofyer growing by a bronke, A brookc, where Adon vfdc to coole his fplccac; Hot was the dav, {he hotter that did iooke Foi hisapproch, thatotten there had bccnc. Anon he comes, and throwcs his MantJc by. And ftood ftarkc naked on the Brookes grccnc briia; The Sunnc look t on the world with glorious cic. Yet not To w: ftly, as this Quecne on him ; He fpying htr, bounrt in (whereas he flood) Oh 1 o V £ (quoth the) why wa s not 1 a dot4 # f.i '^' V '-^ *<* t* ■TV '? •^ ri •^ • p Aire is my loue, bur not Co falre as fickle. MiMs as a Doue, but neither true nor tniftie, Eri.jh:cr then glafTc, and yet as glafl'c is bnctle. Softer th;n waxc, and y etas Iron lufty : A JJly pale, with damaske die to £^racc her> None tairer, nor none falfcr to dct'ace her. Her lip"; to mine how often hath (he ioyned, Betw .enc each Icili.: her othes of true loue fwearin^ Ho A' m-iny nles to plcife me hath fhe coyned, Dreading m • loue, the lofle whereof ftill fearing. Vet m t'le mids of all her pure protcflmgs. Her faith, her otlies, her tcarcs, and all wcic ieaftingi. She burnt with loue, as (Iraw with fire flameth, She burnt out loue, as foone as ftraw out burr.cth: She fram d the loue, and yet flie foyld the framing. She bad Jou; h!f, and yet ihe tell a ti.rning. Was thi> a louer, or a Letcher whether > Bad in the bcft, chough excellent m neither. B tF Muiickc and fvveetPoetrie agree, •^As they m.ift needs (the Sitter and chebiother) Then muit the lone be great twixt thee and me, Bccaufe thou lou'ft the one, and I the other. Dowland to thee is decre, whole heauenly tuch Vpon the Lute, dooth rauii"h humane fenfe: Spenfei to me, whole dsepc Conceit is fuch. As pafsing all conceit, needs no defence. Thou lou ft to hcare the fweet nxlodio'.is found, That PhiEbus Lute (the Qiicenc of Mu'-cke) makes : And I in deepc Dcligh; am chicflv dro',\-nd, Vv'iien as himfelfc to iinein.7_ he betakes. One God is God of both (as Poets faine) One Knight loucrBoth, andbothm thceremainc. V ?:vi pAircwasthcmornc, whcnthefairc Qiieene of loue. Paler tor forrow then her nulke white Douc, For Adonsfjke, a y-bujigfter proud and wildf. Her fund ihc okes vpon a (Iccpc vp hil! , Anon Adonis comes with home and hounds, ShefiUv Queene, with more thci loucs good will. Forbad tlic noy he fliould not paiVe thole erounds. Once (quorh fhc) did I fee a foire (weet youth Here m thtfe brakes, dcepc wounded with a Boarc, Decpc in the thigh a fpcftade of ruth, S« in rny thigh (qnoch fhc) here was tlie fore, She (hrwcd hers, he faw more wounds then one, And blufbingflcd, arid Icfr her all alone. B 5 ^WectRofe, faire flower, vntimcly pliickt, fooa vadc-.l ■^Pluckc in che bud, and vaded in the fpring • Bright orient ocarlc, alacke too rnr.cly i'.iadc J, Faarc creature kildc too fuon by Deaths l1:ar[';': uiu-j : Like a grccne p!u inbc tliat liaiig s vp.)n a a cc : And tals (through -.vindc) bctorc the i'allfiiould be. I wccpc for thcCj and yet no cauTc I h-iu-^ For why ■• thou Ittts nic nothmq 1:1 tiiv v ill ■ And yet thou leitb me more then I did ciauc. Tor why- I cnucd nothing or'ihce lliU: O yes (dcare friend I pardon crauc ouhcc. Thy diitontcn: thou didfl bequeath to inc.. ■j^ •yEnus with Adonis fictmg by her, Vnder a Mirde lliadc began to vvooc him, She told thcyounghnghow god Mars did tnc her. And as he fell to her, the fell to him. Euen thus (quoth fue) the warlike god embrac t tnc: And then (he clipt Adonis in her araics-: Euen thus (quoth ihe) the warlike god vnlac't me, As if the boy ihould vfe likelouinr; charmcs : Euen thus (quoth ihe) he leized on my lippes, And with her lips on his did aft the fcizurc • And as fhet'etched breath, away he skips, A.nd would not take her meaning nor her picafurc. Ah, that I had my Lady at this bay : To kiil'c and dip mc till 1 run away. /Grabbed a^c an J youth cannot hue together, Youth isVii-I of I'lcsfancCjAac is lull of care, Youtli like fuaimcr niorne,AgeTikc winter wcaihfr. Youth like f.Jmmcr brauc, A?,c like waiter bare. ■Youth is ftiD of fporc, A^cs breath is lliort, Youth is nimble, Aire i^ lame Youdi IS. hot and bo d, A{;;e ts wcakc and cold, Youth i<; wild, an 1 Ajc is tnn--. Age 1 doc abhor t'.nee,Youch I doe adore thcc, O mv louc nv lc>u- IS voans;: Agcldoe defijth.-e. Ohf.vcetShepheardhiCthsc: For me thinks thju ftaies too long. •D Eauty is but a vaine and doubttul! gooehr ,pcer d:iv,c:oua day of niiiht now bori-ov bhor: m=:h: to m^h^and length tuy fclie to inocrov SONNETS TofundrynotesofMuilcke. Printed for W.ra£:<^arJ2^-l y~:i ^ jrl was 1 I oriiiat;'; daughter, tlic fa rcR .'IPC /^f tin Tc * 1 hat liKi-d ot h-- r maiilcr,as well ns well iiUL't c U, 1 ill Icwkme on .".n En^hllim.in, cht tain ft ihnicictouf Htr fancic t'-li a turning. I.onq was th: combat doubtAjlJ, tli.n lotic with louciiK To Icr.ic the maiftcr louckllc, ot k:)! the '; thcpa'uic, That nothing cojld be vfed,to itirne the m both to gan For of the two the tt ul^y knii.'hc was wounded with dil< Alas (lie could not helpe it. Thus art witharmescont'. nu'.ng,'Tas vitLlorof chc day Which bv a gift ol leaininr:, did bcarc the tnatd .uvay, Ihcn lullaby the learned man hath not the Lady tjay, For now my fong is ended. ON a day (aljcke the iky) Louc whole moiuh \v;i> cuer Mjy Spied a bloHbme pasting fair, Playing in the wanton ay re, Throijj^h the vclurr Icaucs the v- ind A'i vnfecnegan pi^'aje tiiid, '1 hat the Ipuev (fickc to death) \Vi iit himfclk the heaticn . hi vath_, Ayre (qiioth he") thy chcek^s niiy blowc AvTc, would I might traiitiph \o But (alas)my handluuh/wornc, Nere to plucke thee from thy thnmc, \'ow(alacke) for youth vnmcct, Youth,io apt to pluck a fwcct. Thou for whome louc would fvvearc, lunobut an Ethiopc were And deny hvmfclfe for louc Furning mortail for chy Louc. mmmwM *^^^ r^ m ■V,4 Y flocks fccde '^ot,niy F.wcs bieci nor, ^ My Rams Ip .-cd uo:, all is auus: I.OUC I s dyui5,Faithes defy in^-, Halts ncnying, caufcr of ihis. All my merry Iiogcs are quic^j toicor. All my Ladx-s luuc»s loll (I'.od wot) Where her f.uthw.is firmetv fm n^ -^"-"-'i There a nay ii plac t wuh-jiit rei-iiout. _ OiK filly croflc, wrou«;;ht nil mv IcHe, O frowmiic fortune ciirfcd fickle dame. For now I fecjinconftancy, More in wowtn ch^n i.i men rcmainc. ^ Irt hhcVc nxjrnc T, all fcarcs Icornc I, i,(.>uc harh lorlornc me, lium!; in duail: Hare IS blcciiine, all hclpc ncciliiiii, O cruel! lj>ccdiiii;, frau.:bc;'d with uall. ?>i / llicphcards pipe can ibund no d^2L.\ My weathers bell naps- doletiiU knt'l, My<:urt3i!edor':c that AonttohaiicpIaU, rlaits not at alJ i.ur k-aui.-s afraid. Widi (igl)C5 fo iiccpc,{»rocu res to wccpc. In howling wi{c,to'cc my dolcfull plight, Ho'A' fighcs icloiuij thio'jgh harries ground Like a thouland xanqaillu men in bloJic hgb;. i^^^^^-^'^^ iricajc wcisfpiinf^noc, (\vccce birds lingiDci*^ < jiccnepIanCibfxiignot'O'cii ilicu die, Hcardi. lt.-iiid.s',veepin5,Ho;ks all lic>.pmg, N.mphes blachc pci.p-ni; fcarc'uli y: AU our pUalurc know n^: to vs p >< -i : Iwa tnc»" Aii our iricrric uKctineson the pl.uiicjj All oureiJtni ^^ Ipoic irom vjis tied, Ailoialujci^loiljforloucis d'.idy larotll pAcctlouc thy li!:c acre wa;, I oi J :\v;"ct content the caulc u{ all ivy \^*v>c» Ponii; Condon mult hue alone, Other bclpe for him I icc \hxi there h none. TJ^'hcn asthinceychath chofc the D a me, And ftiUe ihc dearc that thou IhoiilJll ftrikc. Let rcafon rule things worthy blame. As well as f.-ncyrpartyall nu'^ht) Take counfdl offome wilcr 1 ead, Neither too young, nor yet vmved. Apd when thon comft thy tale to tell, S.noot'i not thy toung with filed talke, Lcaft ihe fomc I'ubtill tna^ltjle Imei], A Cr'p^>lc foone can finde a halt. But plainly fay thou louft her well. And fet her perfon foi th to fale. D what though her frowning browcs be bene Her cl"ud lookcs wUI calmeyer muht. And th-n too 1 r.c llic w II repent. That thus diircmblcd her deh :ht. And nvice dcfire yer it he div. That which with fcornc Ihc p'Jt away. What though (he ftriue to try her llr .ngth, And ban and braule,and fay the nay: H.r feeble force will yeeld at length. When craft hath rang'- 1 her thus to lay: H-d women beene fo llron^ as men In nith you had not had it then. "^^ ^^r^'^^*"'""^ [il .^^ '. »■ >» '"^mm -^^ And to her will frame all thy waies, Spare not to fpend,and chiefly there. Where thy dcfart may merit praife By ringiug in thy Ladies eare. The ftrongeftcaftle, tower and townc. The golden bullet beats it downc. Serue alwaics with aflured truft. And m thy lute be humble true, Vnlelfe thy Lady proue vniuft, Prcafe neucr thou to chufe a new: When time (hall ferucbe thou not ilackc. To proffer thongh Ihe put thee back. ^^1. The wUes and euiles that women woikc, D ilanbled wuh an outward Thew: The cricks arui coycb that m therr. lurke, TIk Cock that treads the- ihall ivor knew, Haue you not heard it faid tull otr» A Wornans nay doth Itand tot nought. ThJtittc Women ftill to ftriue with men, Tofiimcand ncJer for tolaint. There is no hc:^uen;by holy then) When time wiuh age ihall them 3ttain^ Were kiHcs all the joyes n bcd^. One Wonvin would another \vtd> Butfoftenough^too much 1 fcare, Leal\ that niV auftreffe heare my ton5» She wiU not'rtid^ to round me on tlvarc. To teach my touns; to be lo long: Yet will Ihe biu>^i-*iW3r»<^ A Sit fell vpon a Day, in chc meiry Month of M*y, SutiOg in X pleafint (HaJe, Which a groue of xMy i ties luaJc, Bcaftes aiii leape,ant chctrc thee, King Pandion, he k dead; Al! i-by friends are lapt in Lead. All thy fellow Birds doc fing, * CarelciTe of thy forrowing. Whilft as fickle Fonane fmildc. Thou and IjWcrcbothbc^uild. Euery one diat flatters tlice. Is no friend m miferic: Words arc eafie,Uke tiie wind, Faithful! feiends are hard to find; Euery man will be thyfricnd, Whilft thou haft whcicwith tofpend; Butifftore ofCrowncsbefcant^ No man will fupply thy warn If that one be prodigall, ■ Bountiftdl they wUl him call: And With fuch -like flattering. Piety buthc were aKing. Ifhcbe a«^diift to vice. Quickly him,dicy will intice. IttoWomenhec be bent, Thc>' hauc at Commaundcmcnt. But if Fortune once doc trowne, Then farewell Ins great rcnovvnc: Thcv that tawnd on hini before. Vfc his company no more. Hce tliat is ihy tncnd indcede, Hce will helpc thee m thy ncedc: 1 f thou forrow,hc w ill wecpc : 1 f thou wake ,hce cannot flecpi: Thusofcuery enctc,in hare Hct,withthec,docch bearea part, ThJc are cenaine(ignes,to know Faithfull fuend, from flatfring toe. C4i SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 1609 FACSIMILE LONDON HENRY FROWDE, M.A. PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD SHAKESPEARES | SONNETS BEING A REPRODUCTION IN FACSIMILE OF THE FIRST EDITION 1609 FROM THE COPY IN THE MALONE COLLECTION IN THE BODLEIAN LIBRARY WITH INTRODUCTION AND BIBLIOGRAPHY BY SIDNEY LEE ox OXFORD : AT THE CLARENDON PRESS MDCCCCV 4 * *g®@®*^Jg®*g^g^*l OXFORD PHOTOGRAPHS AND LETTERPRESS BY HORACE HART, M.A. PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY CONTENTS INTRODUCTION TO SONNETS— I. General Characteristics ... II. Relation of Sonnets to the Early Plays III. The History of the Publication IV. The State of the Text V. Early Manuscript Copies and Reprints VI. A Census of Copies Illustrative Title-Page — The John Wright imprint of i6op PAGE 1 i8 2(5 40 SI 6i ^3 FACSIMILE OF THE EDITION OF 1609 Though Shakespeare's sonnets are unequal in literary General merit, many reach levels of lyric melody and meditative energy <^!i3'^3ctens- which are not to be matched elsewhere in poetry. Numerous lines like Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy or When to the sessions of sweet silent thought seem to illustrate the perfection of human utterance. If a few of the poems sink into inanity beneath the burden of quibbles and conceits, others are almost overcharged with the mellowed sweetness of rhythm and metre, the depth of thought and feeling, the vividness of imagery, and the stimulating fervour of expression which are the finest fruits of poetic power.' * This preface mainly deals with the bibliographical history of the sonnets, and the problems involved in the circumstances of their publication. In regard to the general significance of the poems — their bearing on Shake- speare's biography and character or their relations to the massive sonnet literature of the day, at home and abroad — 1 only offer here a few remarks and illustrations supplementary to what I have already written on these subjects in my Life of Shakespeare, fifth edition, i5>o^, or in the Introduction to the Elizahethan Sonnets, 15)04 (Constable's reissue of Arber's English GarnerJ. The abundant criticism which has been lavished on my already published comments has not modified my faith in the justice of my general position or in the fruitfulness of my general line of investigation. My friend Canon Beeching has, in reply to my strictures, ably restated the 'autobiographic* or 'literal* theory in his recent edition of the sonnets (15104), but it seems to me that he attaches insuflScient weight to Shakespeare's habit of mind elsewhere, and to the customs and conventions of contemporary literature, especially to those which nearly touch the relations commonly subsisting among Elizabethan authors, patrons, and publishers. Canon Beeching's SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE The inter- pretation. Shake- speare's dramatic habit of mind. The sonnets, which number 15-4, are not altogether of homogeneous character. Several are detached lyrics of im- personal application. But the majority of them are addressed to a man, while more than twenty towards the end are addressed to a woman.' In spite of the vagueness of inten- / tion which envelops some of the poems, and the slenderness ' of the links which bind together many consecutive sonnets, the whole collection is well calculated to create the illusion of a series of earnest personal confessions. The collection has consequently been often treated as a self-evident excerpt from the poet's autobiography. In the bulk of the sonnets the writer professes to describe his infatuation with a beautiful youth and his wrath with a disdainful mistress, who alienates the boy's affec- tion and draws him into dissolute courses. But any strictly literal or autobiographic interpretation has to meet a for- midable array of difficulties. Two general objections present themselves on the threshold of the discussion. In the first place, the autobiographic interpretation is to a large extent in conflict with the habit of mind and method of work which are disclosed in the rest of Shakespeare's achievement. In the second place, it credits the poet with humiliating experiences of which there is no hint elsewhere. On the first point, little more needs saying than that Shakespeare's mind was dominated and engrossed by genius for drama, and that, in view of his supreme mastery of dramatic comments on textual or critical points, which lie outside the scope of the controversy, seem to me acute and admirable. * It is not clear from the text whether all the sonnets addressed to a man are inscribed to the same person. Mingled, too, with those addressed to a man, are a few which offer no internal evidence whereby the sex of the addressee can be determined, and, when detached from their environment, were invariably judged by seventeenth and eighteenth-century readers to be addressed to a woman. SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 9 power, the likelihood that any production of his pen should embody a genuine piece of autobiography is on a priori grounds small. Robert Browning, no mean psychologist, went as far as to assert that Shakespeare < ne'er so little ' at any point of his work left his ' bosom's gate ajar ', and declared him incapable of unlocking his heart < with a sonnet-key '. That the energetic fervour which animates many of Shake- speare's sonnets should bear the living semblance of private ecstasy or anguish, is no confutation of Browning's view. No critic of insight has denied all tie of kinship between the fervour of the sonnets and the passion which is portrayed in the tragedies. The passion of the tragedies is invariably the dramatic or objective expression, in the vividest terms, of emotional experience, which, however common in human annals, is remote from the dramatist's own interest or circumstance. Even his two narrative poems, as Coleridge pointed out, betray ' the utter aloofness of the poet's own feeling-s from those of which he is at once the painter and the analyst'. Certainly the intense passion of the tragedies is never the mere literal presentment of the author's personal or sub- jective emotional experience, nor does it draw sustenance from episodes in his immediate environment. The personal note in the sonnets may well owe much to that dramatic instinct which could reproduce intuitively the subtlest thought and feeling of which man's mind is capable. The particular course and effect of the emotion, which Shakespeare portrayed in drama, were usually suggested or prescribed by some story in an historic chronicle or work of fiction. The detailed scheme of the sonnets seems to stand on something of the same footing as the plots of his plays. The sonnets weave together and develop with the finest poetic and dramatic sensibility themes which B 10 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE had already served, with inferior effect, the purposes of poetry many times before. The material for the subject- matter and the suggestion of the irregular emotion of the sonnets lay at Shakespeare's command in much literature by other pens. The obligation to draw on his personal experi- ences for his theme or its development was little greater in his sonnets than in his dramas. Hundreds of sonneteers had celebrated, in the langTiage of love, the charms of young men — mainly by way of acknowledging their patronage in accordance with a convention which was peculiar to the period of the Renaissance. Thousands of poets had described their sufferings at the hands of imperious beauty. Others had found food for poetry in stories of mental conflict caused by a mistress's infidelity or a friend's coolness.' The spur of example never failed to incite Shakespeare's dramatic muse to activity, and at no period of literary history was the presentation of amorous adventures more often essayed in sonnets than by Shakespeare's poetic contemporaries at home and abroad during the last decade of the sixteenth century. It goes without saying that Shakespeare had his own experience of the emotions incident to love and friend- ship or that that experience added point and colour to his verse. But his dramatic genius absolved him of the need ' The conflicts between the claims of friend and mistress on the affec- tions, and the griefe incident to the transfer of a mistress's attentions to a friend — recondite topics which are treated in Shakespeare's sonnets — seem no uncommon themes of Renaissance poetry. Clement Marot, whose work was very familiar to Spenser and other Elizabethan writers, in complicated verse headed * A celle qui souhaita Marot aussi amoureux d'elle qu'un sien Amy' {CEuvres, I5'(^5?, p. 437), describes himself in a situation resembling that which Shakespeare assigns to the ' friend ' of his sonnets. Being solicited in love by his comrade's mistress, Marot warns her of the crime against friendship to which she prompts him, and, less complacent than Shakespeare's * friend ', rejects her invitation on the ground that he has only half a heart to offer her, the other half being absorbed by friendship. SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE ti of seeking his cue there exchisively. It was not in his nature (to paraphrase Browning again) to write merely for the purpose of airing his private woes and perplexities. Shakespeare acknowledged in his plays that ^the truest poetry is the most feigning '. The exclusive embodiment in verse of mere private introspection was barely known to his era, and in these words the dramatist paid an explicit tribute to the potency in poetic literature of artistic impulse and control contrasted with the impotency of personal sensation, which is scarcely capable of discipline. To £qw of the sonnets can a controlling artistic impulse be denied by criticism. The best of them rank with the richest and most concentrated efforts of Shakespeare's pen. To pronounce them, alone of his extant work, free of that 'feigning', which he identified with 'the truest poetry', is tantamount to denying his authorship of them, and to dismissing them from the Shakespearean canon. The second general objection which is raised by the The alleged theory of the sonnets' autobiographic significance can be stated JhTsonnets * very briefly. A literal interpretation of the poems credits the poet with a moral instability which is at variance with the tone of all the rest of his work, and is rendered barely admissible by his contemporary reputation for ' honesty'. Of the 'pangs of despised love' for a woman, which he professes to suffer in the sonnets, nothing need be said in this connexion. But a purely literal interpretation of the impassioned pro- testations of affection for a ' lovely boy ', which course through the sonnets, casts a slur on the dignity of the poet's name which scarcely bears discussion. 0£ friendship of the healthy manly type, not his plays alone, but the records of his biography, give fine and touching examples. All his dramatic writing, as well as his two narrative poems and the testimonies of his intimate associates in life, seems to prove B 2 12 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE The com- parative study of sonnet literature. him incapable of such a personal confession of morbid infatuation with a youth, as a literal interpretation discovers in the sonnets. It is in the light not merely of aesthetic appreciation but of contemporary literary history that Shakespeare's sonnets must be studied, if one hopes to reach any conclusions as to their precise significance which are entitled to confidence. No critic of his sonnets is justified in ignoring the con- temporary literary influences to which Shakespeare, in spite of his commanding genius, was subject throughout his extant work. It is well to bear in mind that Elizabethan sonneteers, whose number was legion, habitually levied heavy debts not only on the great masters of this form of verse in Italy and France, who invented or developed it, but on con- temporary foreign practitioners of ephemeral reputation. Nor should it be forgotten that the Elizabethan reading public repeatedly acknowledged a vein of artificiality in this natural- ized instrument of English poetry, and pointed out its cloying tendency to fantastic exaggeration of simulated passion.' Of chief importance is it to realize that the whole vocabu- oHove^"^^^ lary of affection — the commonest terms of endearment — often carried with them in Renaissance or Elizabethan poetry, and especially in Renaissance and Elizabethan sonnets, a poetic value that is wholly different from any that they bear to-day. The example of Tasso, the chief representative of the Renais- sance on the continent of Europe in Shakespeare's day, shows with singular lucidity how the language of love was suffered deliberately to clothe the conventional relations of poet to ^ Impatience was constantly expressed with the literary habit of ' Oiling a saint with supple sonneting ', which was held to be of the essence of the Elizabethan sonnet (cf. J. D.'s Epigrammes^ i^P^j Sonnet II at end, headed ' Ignoto ', and the other illustrations of contemporary criticism of sonnets in my Life of Shakespeare^ pp. iii-ia). Tasso and SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 13 a helpful patron. Tasso not merely recorded in sonnets an apparently amorous devotion for his patron, the Duke of Ferrara, which is only intelligible in its historical environ- ment, but he also carefully describes in prose the precise sentiments which, with a view to retaining the ducal favour, he sedulously cultivated and poetized. In a long prose letter to a later friend and patron, the Duke of Urbino, he wrote of his attitude of mind to his first patron thus ' : < I confided in him, not as we hope in men, but as we trust in God. . . . It appeared to me, so long as I was under his protection, fortune and death had no power over me. Burning thus with devotion to my lord, as much as man ever did with love to his mistress, I became, without perceiving it, almost an idolater. I continued in Rome and in Ferrara many days and months in the same attachment and faith.' With illuminating frank- ness Tasso added : ' I went so far with a thousand acts of ob- servance, respect, affection, and almost adoration, that at last, as they say the courser grows slow by too much spurring, so his [i.e. the patron's] goodwill towards me slackened, because I sought it too ardently.' There is practical identity between the alternations of feeling which find touching voice in many of the sonnets of Shakespeare and those which colour Tasso's con- fession of his intercourse with his Duke of Ferrara. Both poets profess for a man a lover-like idolatry. Both attest the hopes and fears, which his favour evokes in them, with a fervour and intensity of emotion which it was only in the power of great poets to feign. That the language of love was in common use in Eliza- Poetic bethan England among poets in their intercourse with those ono^TfoT^ who appreciated and encouraged their literary genius, is con- Queen vincingiy illustrated by the mass of verse which was addressed * Tasso, Opere^ Pisa, 1811-31, vol. xiii, p. ipS. 14 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE to the greatest of all patrons of Elizabethan poetry — the Queen. The poets who sought her favour not merely com- mended the beauty of her mind and body with the semblance of amorous ecstasy ; they carried their professions of < love ' to the extreme limits of realism. They seasoned their notes of adoration with reproaches of inconstancy and infidelity, which they couched in the peculiarly intimate vocabulary that is characteristic of genuinely thwarted passion. Sir Walter Sir Walter Raleigh offers especially vivid evidence of the ^ ^^^ ■ assurance with which the poetic client offered his patron the homage of varied manifestations of amoristic sentiment. He celebrated his devotion to the Queen in a poem, called Cynthia^ consisting of twenty-one books, of which only the last survives.' The tone of such portion as is extant is that of ecstatic love which is incapable of restraint. At one point the poet reflects [How] that the eyes of my mind held her beams In every part transferred by love'^s swift thought-^ Far off or near, in waking or in dreams Imagination strong their lustre brought. Such force her angelic appearance had To master distance^ time or cruelty. Raleigh's simulated passion rendered him intentive, wakeful^ and dismayed, In fears, in dreams^ in feverous jealousy.^ ' The date of Raleigh's composition is uncertain ; most of the poem was probably composed about 155)4.. * Cynthia' is the name commonly given the Queen by her poetic admirers. Spenser, Barnfield, and numerous other poets accepted the convention. =" With some of the italicized words, passages in Shakespeare's sonnets may be compared, e. g. : — XXVII. 9-10. ... my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view. XLIil. 11-11. When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay. SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE if The obsequious dependant and professional suitor declares himself to be a sleepless lover, sleepless because of the cruelty XLiv. 1-2. If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way. LXi. 1-2. Is it thy will thy image should keep open My heavy eyelids to the weary night? Similarly Spenser wrote of Queen Elizabeth in 15-5)1 in his Colin Clouts come home aga'tne with a warmth that must mislead any reader who closes his ears and eyes to the current conventions of amorous expression. Here are some of his assurances of regard (11. 4.72-80) : — To her my thoughts I daily dedicate. To her my heart I nightly martyrize: To her my love I lowly do prostrate. To her my life I wholly sacrifice : My thought, my heart, my love, my life is she. And I hers ever only, ever one : One ever I all vowed hers to be. One ever I and others never none. As in Raleigh's case, Spenser draws attention to his sufferings as his patron's lover by night as well as by day. To take a third of a hundred instances that could be adduced of the impassioned vein of poetic addresses to Queen Elizabeth, Richard Barnfield wrote a volume of poems called (like Raleigh's poem) Cynthia, in honour of his sovereign (published in 1595). In a prefatory address he calls the Queen * his mistress'. Much high-strung panegyric follows, and he reaches his climax of adoring affection in a brief ode attached to the main poem. There he describes how, after other adventures in the fields of love, ' Eliza' has finally written her name on his heart *in characters of crimson blood '. Her fair eyes have inflicted on him a fatal wound. The common note of familiarity in a poet's addresses to patrons is well illustrated by the fluency of style in which Barnfield professes his affection for the Queen : — rr .^ • r u t ^^ Her it is, for whom I mournej Her, for whom my life I scorne ; Her, for whom I weepe all day • Her, for whom I sigh, and say. Either She, or els no creature. Shall enioy my loue : whose feature Though I neuer can obtaine, Yet shall my true loue remaine : Till (my body turned to clay) My poore soule must passe away. To the heauens; where (I hope) Hit shall finde a resting scope : Then since I loued thee (alone) Remember me when I am gone. i6 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE of his mistress in refusing him her old favours. In vain he tries to blot out of his mind the joys of her past kindness and to abandon the hopeless pursuit of her affection. He is < a man distract ', who, striving and raging in vain to free himself from strong chains of love, merely suffers <■ change of passion from woe to wrath '. The illusion of genuine passion could hardly be produced with better effect than in lines like these : — The thoughts of past times, /ike flames of hell^ Kindled afresh within my memory The many dear achievements that befell In those prime years and infancy of love. It was in the vein of Raleigh's addresses to the Queen that Elizabethan poets habitually sought, not her countenance only, but that of her noble courtiers. Great lords and great ladies alike — the difference of sex was disregarded — were repeatedly assured by poetic clients that their mental and physical charms excited in them the passion of love. Protestations of affection, familiarly phrased, were clearly encouraged in their poetic clients by noble patrons.' Nashe, a typical Elizabethan, who was thoroughly impregnated with the spirit and temper of the times, bore (in i;'95') unqualified witness to the poetic practice when he wrote of Gabriel Harvey, who religiously observed all current con- ventions in his relations with patrons : — Harvey's * I haue pcruscd vearses of his, written vnder his owne love-poems hand to Sir Philip Sidney^ wherein he courted him as he were Sidney ^ '^ another Cyparissus or Ganimede ; the last Gordian true loues knot or knitting up of them is this : — ' The two sonnets which accompanied Nashe's gift to the young Earl of Southampton of an obscene poem called The choosing of Valentines^ sufficiently indicate the tone of intimacy which often infected ' the dedicated words which writers used* when they were seeking or acknowledging patrons' favours. SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 17 Sum iecur, ex quo te primum, Sydneie, vidi; Os oculosque regit, cogit amare iecur. All liver am /, Sidney, since I saw thee; My mouth, eyes, rule it and to loue doth draw mee.' All the verse, which Elizabethan poets conventionally affirmed to be fired by an amorous infatuation with patrons, was liable to the like biting sarcasm from the scoffer.^ But no satiric censure seemed capable of stemming the tide of passionate adulation, in what Shakespeare himself called < the liver vein ', which in his lifetime flowed about the patrons of Elizabethan poetry. Until comparatively late in the seventeenth century there was ample justification for Sir Philip Sidney's warning of the flattery that awaited those who patronized poets and poetry : ) by these lines : — Ergo cum siliccs, cum dens patientis aratri, Depereant acvo, carmina morte carent. Ccdant carminibus reges regumque triumphi, Cedat et aurifcri ripa benigna Tagi. (31-^.) SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 21 phraseology of great poets suffer constant flow. Their stores are continually replenished in the course of their careers. Whenever, therefore, any really substantial part of the imagery and phraseology in two or more works is of identical tone and texture, no doubt seems permissible that they belong to the same epoch in the poet's career. Appli- cation of these principles to Shakespeare's sonnets can lead to no other result than that the bulk of them are of the same date as the earliest plays. Probably Shakespeare's earliest comedy. Lovers Labour "^s Losty offers a longer list of parallels to the phraseology and imagery of the sonnets than any other of his works.' The details in the resemblance — the drift of style and thought — confirm the conclusion that most of the sonnets belong to the same period of the poet's life as the comedy. Longa- ville's regular sonnet in the play (iv. 3. 60-77,) closely catches the tone that is familiar to readers of Shakespeare's great collection. Like thirty-four of Shakespeare's collected quatorzains, it begins with the rhetorical question: — Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Persuade my heart to this false perjury? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. But apart from syntactical or metrical forms, the imagery in Lovers Labour"^ s Lost is often almost identical with that of the sonnets. The lyric image of sun-worship in Sonnet VII. 1-4 : — Lo, in the Orient when the gracious light Lifts up his burning head, each under eye =^ Cf. Mr. C. F. McClumpha's papers on the relation of the sonnets (i) with l^o've's JLabour^s Lost^ and (i) with Romeo a7id Juliet^ respectively, in Modern Language Notes, vol. xv, No. 6, June, icjoc, pp. '^IJ-'^^y and in Shakes^eare-Jahrhuchy xl. pp. 187 seq. (Weimar, 1^04). 22 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, Serving with looks his sacred majesty^ reappears in heightened colour in Biron's speech in Love's Labour ''s Lost (iv. 3. 221-8): — Who sees the heavenly Rosaline, That like a rude and savage man of Inde, At the first opening of the gorgeous East^ Bows not his vassal head^ and strucken blind Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye Bares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty ? Only here and in another early play — l{omeo and Juliet — is the imagery of sun-worship brought by Shakespeare into the same relief.^ Another conceit which Shakespeare develops persistently, in almost identical language, in both the sonnets and Love's Labour 'j- Lost^ is that the eye is the sole source of love, the exclusive home of beauty, the creator, too, of strange delusions in the minds of lovers/ ' Cf. Romeo and Juliet^ i. i. 1^4.-5:: the luorshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, ' Cf. So?met XIV. ^ : But from thine eyes my kfiowledge I derive. L. L. L. iv. 3. 550 : From women's eyes this doctrine I derive^ &c. So7tnet xvii. j-6 : If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces. L,» L. L. iv. 3. 3x1-3 : Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes Of beauty's tutors have enriched you with. Cf. again Sonnet cxiv. a-y with I,. £,. L.. v. 1. 770-^. For a curious parallel use of the law terms * several' and 'common' see So7inet cxxxvii. p, 10, and L,. L. Z.. ii. I. 2x3. SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 23 Furthermore, the taunts which Biron's friends address to him on the black or dark complexion of his lady love, Rosaline, are in phrase and temper at one with Shakespeare's addresses to his ' dark lady ' in the sonnets. In the comedy and in the poems Shakespeare plays precisely the same fantastic variations on the conventional controversy of Renaissance lyrists, whether a black complexion be a sign of virtue or of vice.' ^ Hardly briefer is the list of similarities of phrase and image offered by Shakespeare's earliest romantic tragedy Romeo and Juliet. The following four examples are representative of many more : — Son. XXV. «^—6 : theh fair leaves spread But as the marigold at the sun's eye. Rom. and Jul. i. I. 157-8 : [bud] can spread his sweet leaves to the air. Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Son. xcviii. i-g : When proud-pied April^ dress'd in all his trim^ Hath put a spirit of youth in everything. Rom. and Jul. i. 2. r6-'j : Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When ivell-apparell'd April ... Son. cxxxvi. 8-c) : Among a number one is reckoned none : Then in the number let me pass untold. Rom. and Jul. i. 2. 3 2-3 : Which on more view of many^ mine being one May stand in number^ though in reckoning none. Son. LXXXiv. 1^-6 : Lean penury within that pen doth dwell That to his subject lends not some small glory. Rom. and Jul. i. 3. 7C-I : That book in many eyes doth share the glory That in gold clasps locks in the golden story. One of the most perfect utterances of the sonnets (XXXIII. 4), the description of the glorious morning sun. Gilding pale streams with heavenly ajchemy. 24 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE Words At many points, characteristic features of Shakespeare's peculiar to yocabularv in the sonnets are as intimately associated with sonnets and j •' early plays, the early plays as the imagery. Several uncommon yet significant words in the sonnets figure in early plays and nowhere else. Such are the epithet < dateless ', which is twice used in the sonnets — XXX. 6 and CLIII. 6^ and is only used twice elsewhere, in two early plays, T{ichard 11^ i. 3. I f I, and ^meo and Juliet^ v. 3. 1 1 5-' j the two words ^compile' (LXX VIII. 9), or < compiPd ' (LXXX V. 2), and <■ filed ' (in the sense of < polished '), which only appear in the sonnets and in Lovers Labour"^ s Lost {\y. 3. 134J v. 2. 5-2 and 89^^ v. i. 12); the participial < Out-worn' in sonnets LXIV. 2 'Out-worn buried age', and LXVIII. i 'days out-worn', which is only met with in Lucrece^ i3fo, 'the worn-out age', and i7<^r, 'time out-worn'j the epithet ' world -without -end ', Sonnet LVII. f, which is only found elsewhere in Lovers Labour'* s Lost^y. 2. 799; 'wires' for 'hair' (CXXX, 4), a favourite word with Elizabethan sonneteers between if 90 and if 97? which is only found elsewhere in the epithet ' wiry ' for ' hairy ' in Kjng John^ iii. 4. <^4 j and ' idolatry ' (' Let not my love be called idolatry') in CV. i, which is used else- where in five plays ^ — one alone, Troilus and Cressida (ii. 2. 5-5), being of later period. is closely akin to the lines in yet another early p^ay, Midsummer Nighfs Dream ^ iii. a. 391-3, where we read how the Eastern gate, all fiery red. Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams. Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams. ' Cf. Son. XXX. 6 : For precious friends hid in death^s dateless night. Rom. and Jul. v. 3. ii^ : A dateless bargain to engrossing death ! = Viz. Two Gentlemen^ iv. 4. 107; Lovers Lahur^s Lost^ iv. 3. 75"; A Midsummer Night's Dream^ i. I. 109 ; Romeo and Juliet^ ii. a. 1 14 ; and Troilus and Cressida^ ii. i. 5^6". SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 2^ Three rare words which testify to Shakespeare's French reading — < rondure' (XXI. 8), 'couplement' (XXI. y), and 'carcanet', i.e. necklace (LII. 8) — are only found elsewhere respectively in Kjngjohn^ ii. i. 2f 9, in Love's Labour'* s Lost^ V. 2. 5-35-, and in Comedy of Errors^ iii. i. 4. One or two quotations or adaptations of lines of the Early sonnets in work by other pens, bring further testimony to £°^^°^jj"^ the comparatively early date of composition. In these in- sonnets, stances the likelihood that Shakespeare was the borrower is very small. The whole line (XCIV. 14) — Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds appeared before ifpy in the play of < Edward HI ' (ii. i. 4^ i), together with several distinctive phrases.' The poet Barnfield, who, in poems published in that and the previous year, borrowed with great freedom from Venus and Jdonis and Lucrece^ levied loans on the sonnets at the same time.^ * Two are especially noteworthy, viz. ' scarlet ornaments ', of the lips or cheeks {Son. CXLIII. 6 and Edvj, 111^ ii. i. lo), and 'flatter', applied to the effect of sunlight (So7i. XXXIII. i and Ediu. Ill, i. i. 142). ' In Sonnet LXXXV Shakespeare uses together the rare words 'compiled* and * filed ' (in the sense of ' polished ') when he writes of comments of your praise^ richly compiled^ . . . And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. Barnfield, in his Cassandra^ which was ready for publication in January, I5'5>f, writes on the same page of his heroine's lover that ' his tongue compiles her praise'^ and subsequently of ' her //^"^ tongue '. The collocation of the expres- sions is curious. Barnfield's descriptions in his Affectionate Shepheard (r5'94) of his youth's ' amber locks trust up in golden tramels ', * which dangle adowne his louely cheekcs ', with the poet's warning of ' th' indecencie of mens long haire ', and the appeal to the boy, ' Cut ofF thy Locke, and sell it for gold wier ' {Affectionate Shepheard^ I. ii • II. xix, xxiii), may comment on Shakespeare's sonnet LXVIII, where the youth is extravagantly complimented on the beauty of his 'golden tresses', which 'show false art what beauty was of yore'. In Shakespeare's sonnet XCVIII, lines 8-1 z — Nor did I wonder at the lily's ivhlte^ Nor praise the deep vermlllcn in the rose ; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those, D 26 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE In two sonnets (published in Jan. 1^9^) Barnfield depre- ciated the beauty of heroes of antiquity compared with his own fair friend. Sonnet XII begins : — Some talke of Ganymede th' Idalian Boy And some of faire Adonis make their boast, Some talk of him [i.e. Castor], whom louely Laeda [i.e. mother of Helen] lost . . . Sonnet XVII opens: — • Cherry-lipt Adonis in his snowie shape, ^slight not compare with his pure luorie white. Both seem crude echoes of Shakespeare's sonnet LIII : — Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you. The sonnets in private circulation. Ill All occasional poetry, and especially poetry for patrons *• in the liver vein ', was usually < kept in private ' in the possibly reflect Barnfield's lines in the Affectionate Shepheard (I. iii) : — His luory-ivhite and Alabaster skin Is staind throughout with rare Vermillion red. But as the LJlUe and the blushing Rose^ So white and red on him in order grows. It is curious to note that this is the only place in all his works where Shake- speare uses the word 'vermilion'. It is not uncommon in Elizabethan literature; cf. Sidney's Astrophel^ cii. y, 'vermillioa dyes'; Daniel's Rosamond (i^^z)^ I. 6j^, * vermilion red' (of roses) ; J. C.'s AlciUa\i'^^6)^ 'vermillion hue' (in Elizabethan Longer Poems, p. 3() i). But it is far more frequent in sixteenth- century French and Italian poetry {yermeil and vermiglio). It is used in all the early Italian poems concerning Venus and Adonis which were accessible to Shakespeare. Cf. Dolce's La ¥avola d'Adone, iv. 7 : — Quivi tra Gigli le vermigHe Rose Si dimostrano ogn' hor liete e vezzose. In both Dolce's La Favola d^ A done (83. 8) and Tarchagnota's VAdone (71. 6 and 74. 1) Adonis' dead body is metamorphosed into ' uno vermiglio fiore ' or ' quel iior vermiglio \ the flower assuming ' vermiglio color del sangue '. SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE 27 Elizabethan era. It was j^^g ^ tcchnical significance, which has no bear- language. O ? ing on Shakespeare's intention as sonneteer, but exclusively concerns Thorpe's action and position as the publisher. In accordance with professional custom, Thorpe dubbed himself page, below this dedication, are the words : ^ There follows an Epistle if | you dare venture on | the length.' The Epistle begins overleaf. SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE ^7 ' the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth ', and thereby- claimed sole and exclusive responsibility for the under- taking. His fellow-publisher, William Barley, called himself his patron's 'faithful well-vp'tller'* when, in i^-pf, he dedicated a book, the manuscript of which he had picked up without communication with the author, to Richard Stapar, a Turkey merchant of his acquaintance/ Similarly, when the dramatist John Marston in \6o6 undertook to issue for himself his play named ' Parasitaster or the Fawne ', he pointed out in a prose preface that he (the author) was the sole controller of the publication, and was on this occasion his own < setter out': * Let it therefore stand with good excuse that I have been my own setter out? To the title which Thorpe bestows on Mr. W. H., ' the ' The oniie onlie begetter of these insuing sonnets,' a like professional ^S^"^'- significance attaches. In this phrase Thorpe acknowledges the services of < Mr. W. H.' in < procuring ' and collecting in his behalf the < private' transcripts, from which the volume was printed. To