Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Hardy M. Cook
Not Peer Reviewed

The Passionate Pilgrim (Octavo, 1599)


ON a day (alacke the day)
Loue whose month was euer May[.]
230Spied a blossome passing fair,
Playing in the wanton ayre,
Through the veluet leaues the wind
All vnseene gan passage find,
That the louer (sicke to death)
235Wisht himselfe the heauens breath,
Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe
Ayre, would I might triumph so
But (alas) my hand hath sworne,
Nere to plucke thee from thy throne,
240Vow (alacke) for youth vnmeet,
Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet,
Thou for whome Ioue would sweare,
Iuno but an Ethiope were
And deny hymselfe for Ioue
245Turning mortall for thy Loue.
MY flocks feede not, my Ewes breed not,
My Rams speed not, all is amis:
Loue is dying, Faithes defying,
Harts nenying, causer of this.
250All my merry Iigges are quite forgot,
All my Ladies loue is lost (god wot)
Where her faith was firmely fixt in loue,
There a nay is plac't without remoue.
One silly crosse, wrought all my losse,
255O frowning fortune cursed fickle dame,
For now I see, inconstancy,
More in wowen then in men remaine.
In blacke morne I, all feares scorne I,
Loue hath forlorne me, liuing in thrall:
260Hart is bleeding, all helpe needing,
O cruell speeding, fraughted with gall.
My shepheards pipe can sound no deale,
My weathers bell rings dolefull knell,
My curtaile dogge that wont to haue plaid,
265Plaies not at all but seemes afraid.
With sighes so deepe, procures to weepe,
In howling wise, to see my dolefull plight,
How sighes resound through hartles ground
Like a thousand vanquisht men in blodie fight.
270Cleare wels spring not, sweete birds sing not,
Greene plants bring not forth their die,
Heards stands weeping, flocks all sleeping,
Nimphes blacke peeping fearefully:
All our pleasure knowne to vs poore swaines:
275All our merrie meetings on the plaines,
All our euening sport from vs is fled,
All our loue is lost, for loue is dead,
Farewell sweet loue thy like nere was,
For a sweet content the cause all my woe,
280Poore Coridon must liue alone,
Other helpe for him I see that there is none.
When as thine eye hath chose the Dame,
And stalde the deare that thou shouldst strike,
Let reason rule things worthy blame,
285As well as fancy (partyall might)
Take counsell of some wiser head,
Neither too young, nor yet vnwed.
And when thou comst thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy toung with filed talke,
290Least she some subtill practise smell,
A Cripple soone can finde a halt,
But plainly say thou loust her well,
And set her person forth to sale.
What though her frowning browes be bent
295Her cloudy lookes will calme yer night,
And then too late she will repent,
That thus dissembled her delight.
And twice desire yer it be day,
That which with scorne she put away.
300What though she striue to try her strength,
And ban and braule, and say the nay:
Her feeble force will yeeld at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say:
Had women beene so strong as men
305In faith you had not had it then.
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,
310The strongest castle, tower and towne,
The golden bullet beats it downe.
Serue alwaies with assured trust,
And in thy sute be humble true,
Vnlesse thy Lady proue vniust,
315Prease neuer thou to chuse a new:
When time shall serue, be thou not slacke,
To proffer though she put thee back.
The wiles and guiles that women worke,
Dissembled with an outward shew:
320The tricks and toyes that in them lurke,
The Cock that treads thē shall not know,
Haue you not heard it said full oft,
A Womans nay doth stand for nought.
Thinke Women still to striue with men,
325To sinne and neuer for to faint,
There is no heauen (by holy then)
When time with age shall them attaint,
Were kisses all the ioyes in bed,
One Woman would another wed.
330But soft enough, too much I feare,
Least that my mistresse heare my song,
She will not stick to round me on th'are,
To teach my toung to be so long:
Yet will she blush, here be it said,
335To heare her secrets so bewraid.