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More like a god than you. Will

you deliver

I will, my lord.

How this dead queen re-lives?

Cer.

Beseech you, first go with me to my house,

Where shall be shown you all was found with her;
How she came plac'd here in the temple;

No needful thing omitted.

Per. Pure Dian, bless thee for thy vision!
I will offer night oblations to thee. Thaisa,
This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter,
Shall marry her at Pentapolis.-And now,
This ornament,

Makes me look dismal, will I clip to form;

And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd,

To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify.

Thai. Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit,

Sir, my father's dead.

Per. Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen,

We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves

Will in that kingdom spend our following days;

Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign.-
Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay,

To hear the rest untold :-Sir, lead the way.

Enter GOWER.

[Exeunt.

Gow. In Antiochus, and his daughter, you have heard Of monstrous lust the due and just reward;

In Pericles, his queen, and daughter, seen

(Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen)
Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast,

Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last :
In Helicanus may you well descry

A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty:
In reverend Cerimon there well appears
The worth that learnèd charity aye wears:

For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame

Had spread their cursèd deed, and honour'd name
Of Pericles, to rage the city turn,

That him and his they in his palace burn;

The gods for murder seemed so content

To punish them,—although not done, but meant.
So on your patience evermore attending,

New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending.

POEMS.

VENUS AND ADONIS.

TO THE

RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLEY,

EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, and baron of Titchfield.

RIGHT HONOURABLE,

I KNOW not how I shall offend in dedicating my un polished lines to your Lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden: only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a godfather, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish, and the world's hopeful expectation.

Your Honour's in all duty,

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

I.

EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn:
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him.

2.

"Thrice fairer than myself," thus she began,
"The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are ;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
3.

"Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey-secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses;

4.

"And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety,—
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport."

5.

With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And, trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enrag'd, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.

6.

Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;

She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.

7.

The studded bridle on a ragged bough

Nimbly she fastens : (O, how quick is love!)
The steed is stalled up, and even now

To tie the rider she begins to prove :

Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust, And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.

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