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Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Hardy M. Cook
Peer Reviewed

Venus and Adonis (Quarto 1, 1592-3)


Ay, me, (quoth Venus) young, and so vnkinde,
VVhat bare excuses mak'st thou to be gon?
Ile sigh celestiall breath, whose gentle winde,
190Shall coole the heate of this descending sun:
Ile make a shadow for thee of my heares,
If they burn too, Ile quench them with my teares.
The sun that shines from heauen, shines but warme,
And lo I lye betweene that sunne, and thee:
195The heate I haue from thence doth litle harme,
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me,
And were I not immortall, life were done,
Betweene this heauenly, and earthly sunne.
Art thou obdurate, flintie, hard as steele?
200Nay more then flint, for stone at raine relenteth:
Art thou a womans sonne and canst not feele
VVhat tis to loue, how want of loue tormenteth?
O had thy mother borne so hard a minde,
She had not brought forth thee, but died vnkind.
205VVhat am I that thou shouldst contemne me this?
Or what great danger, dwels vpon my sute?
VVhat were thy lips the worse for one poore kis?
Speake faire, but speake faire words, or else be mute:
Giue me one kisse, Ile giue it thee againe,
210And one for intrest, if thou wilt haue twaine.
Fie, liuelesse picture, cold, and sencelesse stone,
VVell painted idoll, image dull, and dead,
Statüe contenting but the eye alone,
Thing like a man, but of no woman bred:
215Thou art no man, though of a mans complexion,
For men will kisse euen by their owne direction.