The Sonnets and Other Poems (5 page)

‘Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy,
And learn
of
⁴⁰⁴
him, I heartily beseech thee,
To take advantage
on
⁴⁰⁵
presented
joy.
Though
⁴⁰⁶
I were dumb,
yet
his
proceedings
teach thee.
      O, learn to love: the lesson is but plain,
      And once
made perfect
⁴⁰⁸
, never lost again.’

‘I know not love,’
quoth
⁴⁰⁹
he, ‘nor will not know it,
Unless it be a boar and then I chase it,
’Tis much to borrow and I will not
owe
⁴¹¹
it.
My love to love is love but to disgrace it
⁴¹²
,
      For I have heard it is a life in death,
      That laughs and weeps and all
but with a breath
⁴¹⁴
.

‘Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinished?
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?
If
springing
⁴¹⁷
things be any jot
diminished
,
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth:
      The colt that’s
backed and burdened
⁴¹⁹
being young
      Loseth his pride and never
waxeth
⁴²⁰
strong.

‘You hurt my hand with wringing, let us part
And leave this
idle
⁴²²
theme, this
bootless
chat.
Remove your siege from my unyielding heart:
To love’s
alarms
⁴²⁴
it will not
ope
the gate.
      Dismiss your vows, your feignèd tears, your flattery,
      For where a heart is hard they make no
battery
⁴²⁶
.’

‘What, canst thou talk?’ quoth she, ‘Hast thou a tongue?
O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing.
Thy
mermaid’s
⁴²⁹
voice hath done me double wrong:
I had my load before, now
pressed
⁴³⁰
with bearing:
      Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh sounding,
      Ear’s deep-sweet music and heart’s deep-sore wounding.

‘Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love
That
inward beauty and invisible
⁴³⁴
,
Or were I deaf, thy
outward parts
⁴³⁵
would
move
Each part in me that were but
sensible
⁴³⁶
:
      Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,
      Yet should I be in love by touching thee.

‘Say that the sense of feeling were bereft me,
And that I could not see nor hear nor touch,
And nothing but the very smell were left me,
Yet would my love to thee be still as much:
      For from the
stillatory
⁴⁴³
of thy
face excelling
      Comes breath perfumed that breedeth love by smelling.

‘But O, what banquet wert thou to the taste,
Being nurse and feeder of the
other four
⁴⁴⁶
.
Would they not wish the feast might ever last
And bid
suspicion
⁴⁴⁸
double-lock the door,
      Lest jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,
      Should by his stealing in disturb the feast?’

Once more the
ruby-coloured portal
⁴⁵¹
opened,
Which to his speech did honey passage yield,
Like a red morn that ever yet
betokened
Wrack
⁴⁵³
to the seaman, tempest to the field,
      Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,
      Gusts and foul
flaws
⁴⁵⁶
to herdmen and to herds.

This ill
presage
⁴⁵⁷
advisedly
she
marketh
,
Even as the wind is hushed before it raineth,
Or as the wolf doth
grin
⁴⁵⁹
before he barketh,
Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,
      Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,
      His meaning struck her
ere
⁴⁶²
his words begun.

And at his look she
flatly
⁴⁶³
falleth down,
For looks kill love and love by looks reviveth:
A smile
recures
⁴⁶⁵
the wounding of a frown.
But blessèd bankrupt that by
love
⁴⁶⁶
so
thriveth
,
      The silly boy, believing she is dead,
      Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red,

And all amazed brake off his
late intent
⁴⁶⁹
,
For sharply he did think to reprehend her,
Which
cunning
⁴⁷¹
love did
wittily
prevent:
Fair fall
⁴⁷²
the wit that can so well defend her!
      For on the grass she lies as she were slain,
      Till his breath breatheth life in her again.

He
wrings
⁴⁷⁵
her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks,
He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard,
He chafes her lips: a thousand ways he seeks
To mend the hurt that his unkindness marred.
      He kisses her and she, by her good will,
      Will never rise,
so he will kiss her still
⁴⁸⁰
.

The night of sorrow now is turned to day.
Her two
blue windows
⁴⁸²
faintly she upheaveth,
Like the fair sun when in his fresh array
He cheers the morn and all the earth relieveth:
      And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,
      So is her face illumined with her eye,

Whose beams upon his hairless face are fixed,
As if from thence they borrowed all their shine.
Were never four such lamps together mixed,
Had not his clouded with his brow’s
repine
⁴⁹⁰
,
      But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light,
      Shone like the moon in water seen by night.

‘O, where am I?’ quoth she, ‘In earth or heaven,
Or in the ocean
drenched
⁴⁹⁴
or in the fire?
What hour is this?
Or
⁴⁹⁵
morn or weary even?
Do I delight to die or life desire?
      But now I lived and life was
death’s annoy
⁴⁹⁷
,
      But now I died and death was lively joy.

‘O, thou didst kill me! Kill me once again!
Thy eyes’
shrewd
⁵⁰⁰
tutor, that hard heart of thine,
Hath taught them scornful tricks and such disdain
That they have murdered this poor heart of mine,
      And these mine eyes, true
leaders
⁵⁰³
to their queen,
     
But
⁵⁰⁴
for thy
piteous
lips no more had seen.

‘Long may they kiss each other for this cure!
O, never let their crimson
liveries
⁵⁰⁶
wear
,
And as they last, their
verdure
⁵⁰⁷
still endure
To drive infection from the dangerous year
      That the
star-gazers
⁵⁰⁹
, having writ on death,
      May say the
plague
⁵¹⁰
is banished by thy breath.

‘Pure lips, sweet
seals in my soft lips imprinted
⁵¹¹
,
What bargains may I make, still to be sealing?
To
sell myself
⁵¹³
I can be well contented,
So
⁵¹⁴
thou wilt buy and pay and
use good dealing
,
      Which purchase if thou make, for fear of
slips
⁵¹⁵
      Set thy
seal-manual
⁵¹⁶
on my wax-red lips.

‘A thousand kisses buys my heart from me,
And pay them at thy leisure, one by one.
What is ten hundred
touches
⁵¹⁹
unto thee?
Are they not quickly
told
⁵²⁰
and quickly gone?
      Say for non-payment that the debt should double,
      Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?’

‘Fair
queen
⁵²³
,’ quoth he, ‘if any love you
owe
me,
Measure my strangeness with
⁵²⁴
my unripe years,
Before I
know
⁵²⁵
myself, seek not to know me.
No fisher but the ungrown
fry
⁵²⁶
forbears
:
      The
mellow
⁵²⁷
plum doth fall, the green sticks fast,
      Or being early plucked is sour to taste.

‘Look, the
world’s comforter
⁵²⁹
with weary gait
His day’s hot task hath ended in the west,
The
owl, night’s herald, shrieks
⁵³¹
, ’tis very late,
The sheep are gone to
fold
⁵³²
, birds to their nest,
      And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven’s light
      Do summon us to part and bid goodnight.

‘Now let me say “Goodnight”, and so say you:
If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.’
‘Goodnight’, quoth she and ere he says ‘Adieu’
The honey fee of parting
tendered
⁵³⁸
is.
      Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace:
     
Incorp’rate
⁵⁴⁰
then they seem, face grows to face,

Till, breathless, he
disjoined
⁵⁴¹
and backward drew
The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,
Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew,
Whereon they
surfeit
⁵⁴⁴
, yet complain
on drouth
:
      He with her
plenty
⁵⁴⁵
pressed
, she faint with
dearth
,
      Their lips together glued, fall to the earth.

Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey,
And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth.
Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,
Paying what ransom the
insulter
⁵⁵⁰
willeth,
      Whose
vulture
⁵⁵¹
thought doth
pitch
the price so high
      That she will draw his lips’ rich treasure dry.

And having felt the sweetness of the
spoil
⁵⁵³
,
With blindfold fury she begins to
forage
⁵⁵⁴
:
Her face doth
reek
and smoke
⁵⁵⁵
, her blood doth boil,
And
careless
⁵⁵⁶
lust stirs up a desperate courage,
      Planting
oblivion
⁵⁵⁷
, beating reason back,
      Forgetting shame’s pure blush and honour’s
wrack
⁵⁵⁸
.

Hot, faint and weary, with her hard embracing,
Like a wild bird being tamed with too much handling,
Or as the fleet-foot
roe
⁵⁶¹
that’s tired with
chasing
,
Or like the
froward
⁵⁶²
infant stilled with
dandling
,
      He now obeys and now no more resisteth,
      While she takes all she can, not all she
listeth
⁵⁶⁴
.

What wax
so
⁵⁶⁵
frozen but dissolves with
temp’ring
,
And yields at last to every light impression?
Things
out of hope
⁵⁶⁷
are
compassed
oft with
vent’ring
,
Chiefly in love,
whose leave exceeds commission
⁵⁶⁸
:
      Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward,
      But then woos best, when most his
choice
⁵⁷⁰
is froward.

When he did frown, O, had she then
gave over
⁵⁷¹
,
Such nectar from his lips she had not sucked.
Foul
⁵⁷³
words and frowns must not repel a lover:
What though the
rose have prickles, yet ’tis plucked
⁵⁷⁴
!
      Were beauty under twenty locks kept
fast
⁵⁷⁵
,
      Yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.

For pity now she can no more detain him:
The poor fool prays her that he may depart.
She is resolved no longer to restrain him,
Bids him farewell and
look well to
⁵⁸⁰
her heart,
      The which, by
Cupid
⁵⁸¹
’s bow she doth
protest
,
      He carries thence incagèd in his breast.

‘Sweet boy,’ she says, ‘this night I’ll
waste
⁵⁸³
in sorrow,
For my sick heart commands mine eyes to
watch
⁵⁸⁴
.
Tell me, love’s master, shall we meet tomorrow?
Say, shall we? Shall we? Wilt thou
make the match
⁵⁸⁶
?’
      He tells her, ‘No’, tomorrow he intends
      To hunt the boar with certain of his friends.

‘The boar?’ quoth she, whereat a sudden pale,
Like
lawn
⁵⁹⁰
being spread upon the blushing rose,
Usurps her cheek: she trembles at his tale
And on his neck her
yoking
⁵⁹²
arms she throws.
      She sinketh down still hanging by his neck,
      He on her belly falls, she on her back.

Now is she in the very
lists
⁵⁹⁵
of love,
Her
champion
⁵⁹⁶
mounted
for the
hot encounter
:
All is imaginary she doth
prove
⁵⁹⁷
,
He will not
manage
⁵⁹⁸
her, although he mount her,
     
That
⁵⁹⁹
worse than
Tantalus
’ is her annoy,
      To
clip
⁶⁰⁰
Elysium
and to lack her joy.

Even so poor birds, deceived with
painted grapes
⁶⁰¹
,
Do surfeit by the eye and
pine the maw
⁶⁰²
:
Even so she languisheth in her
mishaps
⁶⁰³
,
As those poor birds that
helpless
⁶⁰⁴
berries saw.
      The
warm effects
⁶⁰⁵
, which she in him finds missing,
      She seeks to kindle with continual kissing.

But all in vain: good queen, it will not be.
She hath
assayed
⁶⁰⁸
as much as may be
proved
.
Her pleading hath deserved a greater fee:
She’s love, she loves and yet she is not loved.
      ‘Fie,
fie
⁶¹¹
!’ he says, ‘You crush me! Let me go!
      You have no reason to withhold me so.’