Venus and Adonis
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| Publié par | urnoi |
| Publié le | 08 décembre 2010 |
| Nombre de lectures | 46 |
| Langue | English |
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Venus and Adonis, by William Shakespeare This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Venus and Adonis Author: William Shakespeare Release Date: August 10, 2008 [EBook #1045] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VENUS AND ADONIS ***
Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger
VENUS AND ADONIS
by William Shakespeare
'Villa miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLEY, EARL OF SOUHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD. RIGHT HONOURABLE, I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to
your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burthen: 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.
VENUS AND ADONIS
EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn, Rose-cheek'd Adonis tried him to the chase; Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn; 4 Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him, And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him. 'Thrice fairer than myself,' thus she began, 'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare, 8 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. 12 '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: 16 Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses; And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses: 'And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety, But rather famish them amid their plenty, 20 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.' 24 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: 28 Being so enrag'd, desire doth lend her force Courageously to pluck him from his horse. Over one arm the lusty courser's rein
Under her other was the tender boy, 32 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. 36
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: 40 Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust, And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.
So soon was she along, as he was down, Each leaning on their elbows and their hips: 44 Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown, And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips; And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken, 'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.' 48
He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks; Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs To fan and blow them dry again she seeks: 52 He saith she is immodest, blames her miss; What follows more she murders with a kiss. Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone, 56 Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste, Till either gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone; Even so she kiss'd his brow, his cheek, his chin, And where she ends she doth anew begin. 60 Forc'd to content, but never to obey, Panting he lies, and breatheth in her face; She feedeth on the steam, as on a prey, And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace; 64 Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers So they were dewd with such distilling showers.
Look! how a bird lies tangled in a net, So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies; 68 Pure shame and aw'd resistance made him fret, Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes: Rain added to a river that is rank Perforce will force it overflow the bank. 72 Still she entreats, and prettily entreats, For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale; Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets, 'Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale; 76 Being red she loves him best; and being white, Her best is better'd with a more delight.
Look how he can, she cannot choose but love; And by her fair immortal hand she swears, 80 From his soft bosom never to remove, Till he take truce with her contending tears,
Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all wet; And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.
Upon this promise did he raise his chin 85 Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave, Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in; So offers he to give what she did crave; 88 But when her lips were ready for his pay, He winks, and turns his lips another way.
Never did passenger in summer's heat More thirst for drink than she for this good turn. 92 Her help she sees, but help she cannot get; She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn: 'O! pity,' 'gan she cry, 'flint-hearted boy: 'Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy? 96
'I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, Even by the stern and direful god of war, Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow, Who conquers where he comes in every jar; 100 Yet hath he been my captive and my slave, And begg'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have.
'Over my altars hath he hung his lance, His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest, 104 And for my sake hath learn'd to sport and dance To toy, to wanton, dally, smile, and jest; Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red Making my arms his field, his tent my bed. 108
'Thus he that overrul'd I oversway'd, Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain: Strong-temper'd steel his stronger strength obey'd, Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. 112 O! be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, For mastering her that foil'd the god of fight.
Touch but my lips with those falr lips of thine,— Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red,— 116 The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine: What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head: Look in mine eyeballs, there thy beauty lies; Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes? 120
'Art thou asham'd to kiss? then wink again, And I will wink; so shall the day seem night; Love keeps his revels where there are but twain; Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight: 124 These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.
'The tender spring upon thy tempting lip 127 Shows thee unripe, yet mayst thou well be tasted: Make use of time, let not advantage slip; Beauty within itself should not be wasted: Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime Rot and consume themselves in little time. 132
'Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, Ill-nurtur'd, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, O'erworn, despised, rheumatic, and cold, Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice, 136 Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee; But having no defects, why dost abhor me?
Thou canst not see one winkle in my brow; 139 ' Mine eyes are grey and bright, and quick in turning; My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow; My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning; My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt. Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt. 144
'Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, Or like a fairy, trip upon the green, Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair, Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen: 148 Love is a spirit all compact of fire, Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.
'Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie; 151 These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me; Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky, From morn till night, even where I list to sport me: Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee? 156
'Is thine own heart to shine own face affected? Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left? Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected, Steal thine own freedom, and complain on theft. 160 Narcissus so himself himself forsook, And died to kiss his shadow in the brook.
'Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, 164 Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear; Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse: Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth beauty; Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty. 168
'Upon the earth's increase why shouldst thou feed, Unless the earth with thy increase be fed? By law of nature thou art bound to breed, That thine may live when thou thyself art dead; 172 And so in spite of death thou dost survive, In that thy likeness still is left alive.'
By this the love-sick queen began to sweat, For where they lay the shadow had forsook them, 176 And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat With burning eye did hotly overlook them, Wishing Adonis had his team to guide, So he were like him and by Venus' side. 180
And now Adonis with a lazy spright, And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye, His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight,
Like misty vapours when they blot the sky, 184 Souring his cheeks, cries, 'Fie! no more of love: The sun doth burn my face; I must remove.'
'Ay me,' quoth Venus, 'young, and so unkind! What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone! 188 I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind Shall cool the heat of this descending sun: I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs; 191 If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears.
'The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm, And lo! I lie between that sun and thee: The heat I have from thence doth little harm, Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me; 196 And were I not immortal, life were done Between this heavenly and earthly sun.
'Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel? Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth: 200 Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel What 'tis to love? how want of love tormenteth? O! had thy mother borne so hard a mind, 203 She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind. 'What am I that thou shouldst contemn me this? Or what great danger dwells upon my suit? What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss? Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute: Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again, 209 And one for interest if thou wilt have twain.
'Fie! lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone, Well-painted idol, image dull and dead, 212 Statue contenting but the eye alone, Thing like a man, but of no woman bred: Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion, For men will kiss even by their own direction.' 216
This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, And swelling passion doth provoke a pause; Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong; Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause: 220 And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak, And now her sobs do her intendments break.
Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand; Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; 224 Sometimes her arms infold him like a band: She would, he will not in her arms be bound; And when from thence he struggles to be gone, She locks her lily fingers one in one. 228
'Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: 232 Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
'Within this limit is relief enough, Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain, 236 Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough, To shelter thee from tempest and from rain: Then be my deer, since I am such a park; 239 No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.' At this Adonis smiles as in disdain, That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple: Love made those hollows, if himself were slain, He might be buried in a tomb so simple; 244 Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie, Why, there Love liv'd, and there he could not die. These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits, Open'd their mouths to swallow Venus' liking. 248 Being mad before, how doth she now for wits? Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking? Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn, To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn! 252 Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say? Her words are done, her woes the more increasing; The time is spent, her object will away, And from her twining arms doth urge releasing: 256 Pity,' she cries; 'some favour, some remorse!' ' Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse. But lo! from forth a copse that neighbours by, A breeding jennet, lusty, young, and proud, 260 Adonis' tramping courier doth espy, And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud: The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree, Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he. 264 Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, And now his woven girths he breaks asunder; The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds, Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder; The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth, 269 Controlling what he was controlled with. His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end; 272 His nostrils drink the air, and forth again, As from a furnace, vapours doth he send: His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire, Shows his hot courage and his high desire. 276 Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps, With gentle majesty and modest pride; Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps, As who should say, 'Lo! thus my strength is tried; And this I do to captivate the eye 281 Of the fair breeder that is standing by.' What recketh he his rider's angry stir, His flattering 'Holla', or his 'Stand, I say'? 284
What cares he now for curb or pricking spur? For rich caparisons or trapping gay? He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, Nor nothing else with his proud sight agrees. 288
Look, when a painter would surpass the life, In limning out a well-proportion'd steed, His art with nature's workmanship at strife, As if the dead the living should exceed; 292 So did this horse excel a common one, In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.
Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back. 300
Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares; Anon he starts at stirring of a feather; To bid the wind a base he now prepares, And whe'r he run or fly they know not whether; 304 For through his mane and tail the high wind sings, Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings.
He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her; She answers him as if she knew his mind; 308 Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her, She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind, Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels, Beating his kind embracements with her heels. 312
Then, like a melancholy malcontent, He vails his tail, that, like a falling plume, Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent: He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume. 316 His love, perceiving how he is enrag'd, Grew kinder, and his fury was assuag'd.
His testy master goeth about to take him; When lo! the unback'd breeder, full of fear, 320 Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him, With her the horse, and left Adonis there: As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them, Outstripping crows that strive to overfly them. 324
All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits, Banning his boisterous and unruly beast: And now the happy season once more fits, That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest; 328 For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.
An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd, Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage: 332 So of concealed sorrow may be said; Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage; But when the heart's attorney once is mute
The client breaks, as desperate in his suit. 336
He sees her coming, and begins to glow,— Even as a dying coal revives with wind,— And with his bonnet hides his angry brow; Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind, 340 Taking no notice that she is so nigh, For all askance he holds her in his eye.
O! what a sight it was, wistly to view How she came stealing to the wayward boy; 344 To note the fighting conflict of her hue, How white and red each other did destroy: But now her cheek was pale, and by and by It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky. 348
Now was she just before him as he sat, And like a lowly lover down she kneels; With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat, Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels: 352 His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand's print, As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint.
O! what a war of looks was then between them; Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing; 356 His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them; Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd the wooing: And all this dumb play had his acts made plain With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain.
Full gently now she takes him by the hand, 361 A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow, Or ivory in an alabaster band; So white a friend engirts so white a foe: 364 This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling, Show'd like two silver doves that sit a-billing.
Once more the engine of her thoughts began: 'O fairest mover on this mortal round, 368 Would thou wert as I am, and I a man, My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound; For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee, Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee.'
'Give me my hand,' saith he, 'why dost thou feel it?' 'Give me my heart,' saith she, 'and thou shalt have it; O! give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it, And being steel'd, soft sighs can never grave it: 376 Then love's deep groans I never shall regard, Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.'
For shame,' he cries, 'let go, and let me go; ' My day's delight is past, my horse is gone, 380 And 'tis your fault I am bereft him so: I pray you hence, and leave me here alone: For all my mind, my thought, my busy care, Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.' 384
Thus she replies: 'Thy palfrey, as he should,
Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire: Affection is a coal that must be cool'd; Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire: 388 The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none; Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.
'How like a Jade he stood, tied to the tree, Servilely master'd with a leathern rein! 392 But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee, He held such petty bondage in disdain; Throwing the base thong from his bending crest, Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast. 396
'Who sees his true-love in her naked bed, Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white, But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed, His other agents aim at like delight? 400 Who is so faint, that dare not be so bold To touch the fire, the weather being cold?
'Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy; And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee, 404 To take advantage on presented joy Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee. O learn to love, the lesson is but plain, And once made perfect, never lost again. 408
'I know not love,' quoth 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 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.
'Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd? Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth? 416 If springing things be any jot diminish'd, They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth; The colt that's back'd and burden'd being young Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong. 420
You hurt my hand with wringing. Let us part, ' And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat: Remove your siege from my unyielding heart; To love's alarms it will not ope the gate: 424 Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery; For where a heart is hard they make no battery.'
'What! canst thou talk?' quoth she, 'hast thou a tongue? O! would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing; 428 Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong; I had my load before, now press'd 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 433 That inward beauty and invisible; Or were I deaf, thy outward parts 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, 440 And nothing but the very smell were left me, Yet would my love to thee be still as much; For from the stillitory of thy face excelling Comes breath perfum'd that breedeth love by smelling.
'But O! what banquet wert thou to the taste, 445 Being nurse and feeder of the other four; Would they not wish the feast might ever last, And bid Suspicion double-lock the door, Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest, Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast?' 448
Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd, Which to his speech did honey passage yield, 452 Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd Wrack to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds, Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds. 456
This ill presage advisedly she marketh: Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth, Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh, Or as the berry breaks before it staineth, 460 Or like the deadly bullet of a gun, His meaning struck her ere his words begun.
And at his look she flatly falleth down For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth; 464 A smile recures the wounding of a frown; But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth! The silly boy, believing she is dead Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red; 468
And all amaz'd brake off his late intent, For sharply he did think to reprehend her, Which cunning love did wittily prevent: Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her! 472 For on the grass she lies as she were slain Till his breath breatheth life in her again.
He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard, 476 He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd: 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 turn'd to day: Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth: 484 And as the bright sun glorifies the sky, So is her face illumin'd with her eye;
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