'And for my sake, when I might charm thee so For she that was thy Lucrece, now attend me: Be suddenly revenged on my foe, Thine, mine, his own: suppose thou dost defend me [lend me From what is past: the help that thou shalt Comes all too late, yet let the traitor die ; For sparing justice feeds iniquity. 'But ere I name him, you fair lords,' quoth she, Speaking to those that came with Collatine, Shall plight your honorable faiths to me, With swift pursuit to venge this wrong of mine; For 'tis a meritorious fair design 1691 To chase injustice with revengeful arms: Knights, by their oaths, should right poor ladies' harms.' At this request, with noble disposition 'How may this forced stain be wiped from me? What is the quality of mine offence, Being constrain'd with dreadful circumstance? 'May my pure mind with the foul act dispense, My low-declined honor to advance ? May any terms acquit me from this chance? The poison'd fountain clears itself again; And why not I from this compelled stain?' With this, they all at once began to say, 1709 Her body's stain her mind untainted clears; While with a joyless smile she turns away The face, that map which deep impression bears Of hard misfortune, carved in it with tears. 'No, no,' quoth she, 'no dame, hereafter living, By my excuse shall claim excuse's giving.' Here with a sigh, as if her heart would break, She throws forth Tarquin's name; 'He, he,' she says, But more than 'he' her poor tongue could not speak; 1719 Till after many accents and delays, Untimely breathings, sick and short assays, She utters this, He, he, fair lords, 'tis he, That guides this hand to give this wound to me.' 1731 Stone-still, astonish'd with this deadly deed, Her blood, in poor revenge, held it in chase; And bubbling from her breast, it doth divide In two slow rivers, that the crimson blood Circles her body in on every side, Who, like a late-sack'd island, vastly stood Bare and unpeopled in this fearful flood. 1741 Some of her blood still pure and red remain'd, And some look'd black, and that false Tarquin stain'd. About the mourning and congealed face 'That life was mine which thou hast here deprived. If in the child the father's image lies, O, from thy cheeks my image thou hast torn, And shivered all the beauty of my glass, That I no more can see what once I was! 'O time, cease thou thy course and last no longer, If they surcease to be that should survive. Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger And leave the faltering feeble souls alive? stream The one doth call her his the other his, 'O,' quoth Lucretius, 'I did give that life 1800 Which she too early and too late hath spill'd.' 'Woe, woe,' quoth Collatine, she was my wife, I owed her, and 'tis mine that she hath kill'd.' 'My daughter' and 'my wife' with clamors fill'd "Thou wronged lord of Rome,' quoth he 'arise: Let my unsounded self, supposed a fool, Is it revenge to give thyself a blow Thy wretched wife mistook the matter so, To slay herself, that should have slain her foe. Courageous Roman, do not steep thy heart In such relenting dew of lamentations; 1829 But kneel with me and help to bear thy part, To rouse our Roman gods with invocations, That they will suffer these abominations, Since Rome herself in them doth stand disgraced, By our strong arms from forth her fair streets chased. 'Now, by the Capitol that we adore, And by this chaste blood so unjustly stain'd, By heaven's fair sun that breeds the fat earth's store, By all our country rights in Rome maintain'd, And by chaste Lucrece' soul that late com plain'd 1839 Her wrongs to us, and by this bloody knife, We will revenge the death of this true wife." This said, he struck his hand upon his breast, And kiss'd the fatal knife, to end his vow; And to his protestation urged the rest, Who, wondering at him, did his words allow : Then jointly to the ground their knees they bow; And that deep vow, which Brutus made be fore, He doth again repeat, and that they swore. When they had sworn to this advised doom, They did conclude to bear dead Lucréce thence; 1850 To show her bleeding body thorough Rome, And so to publish Tarquin's foul offence : Which being done with speedy diligence, The Romans plausibly did give consent To Tarquin's everlasting banishment. But, soft! enough, too much, I fear; Yet will she blush, here be it said, [xx.] Live with me, and be my love, There will I make thee a bed of roses, A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs ; And if these pleasures may thee move. Then live with me and be my love. LOVE'S ANSWER. 350 360 And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, All thy friends are lapp'd in lead; Every one that flatters thee Is no friend in misery. Words are easy, like the wind; Every man will be thy friend Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ; But if store of crowns be scant, No man will supply thy want. If that one be prodigal, 390 400 410 420 430 SONNETS. (WRITTEN BETWEEN 1595-1605.) INTRODUCTION. The Sonnets of Shakespeare suggest, perhaps, the most difficult questions in Shakespearean eriticism. In 1609 appeared these poems in a quarto (published almost certainly without the author's sanction), which also contained A Lover's Complaint. The publisher, Thomas Thorpe, dedicated them "To the onlie begetter of these ensuing sonnets, Mr. W. H." Does " begetter mean the person who inspired them and so brought them into existence, or only the obtainer of the Sonnets for Thorpe? Probably the former. And wh is Mr. W. H.? It is clear from sonnet 135 that the Christian-name of Shakespeare's friend to whom the first 126 sonnets were addressed was William. But what William? There is not even an approach to certainty in any answer offered to this question. Some have supposed that W. H. is a blind to conceal and yet express the initials H. W.i.e. Henry Wriothesiey, Earl of Southampton, Shakespeare's patron. Others hold that William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke (to whom, together with his brother, the first folio was dedicated), is here addressed. When were the Sonnets written? We know that Meres in 1598 spoke of Shakespeare's "sugred sonnets among his private friends," and that in 1599 two (138 and 144) were printed in The Passionate Pilgrim. Some, to judge by their style, seem to belong to the time when Romeo and Juliet was written. Others as for example 66-74-echo the sadder tone which is heard in Hamlet and Measure for Measure. The writing of the Sonnets certainly extended over a consider. able period of time, at least three years (see 104), and perhaps a longer period. They all, probably, lie somewhere between 1595 and 1605. The Sonnets consist of two series, the first (from 1 to 126) addressed to a young man; the other (from 127 to 154) addressed to or referring to a woman. But both series allude to events which connect the two persons with one another and with Shakespeare. The young friend, whom Shakespeare loved with a fond idolatry, was beautiful, clever, rich in the gifts of fortune, and of high rank. The woman was of stained character, false to her husband, the reverse of beautiful, dark-eyed, pale-faced, a musician, possessed of a strange power of attraction. To her fascination Shakespeare yielded himself, and in his absence she laid her shares for Shakespeare's friend and won him. Hence a coldness, estrangement, and for some time a complete severance between Shakespeare and his friend, after a time followed by acknowledgment of fault on both sides and a complete reconciliation. So the Sonnets must be interpreted if we accept the natural seuse they seem to bear. But several critics have held that they are either altogether of an ideal Bature or allegorical, or were written in part by Shakespeare not for himself but for the use of others. The natural sense, however, is probably the true one. FROM fairest creatures we desire increase, Feed'st thy light'st flame with self-substantial Making a famine where abundance lies, Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Thy unused beauty must be tomb'd with thee, Which, used, lives th' executor to be. V. Those hours, that with gentle work did frame The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, place With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd. That use is not forbidden usury Which happies those that pay the willing loan; That's for thyself to breed another thee, Leaving thee living in posterity? Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir. |