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

Venus and Adonis (Quarto 1, 1592-3)


This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And swelling passion doth prouoke a pause,
Red cheeks, and fierie eyes blaze forth her wrong:
220Being Iudge in loue, she cannot right her cause.
And now she weeps, & now she faine would speake
And now her sobs do her intendments breake.
Sometime she shakes her head, and then his hand,
Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground;
225Sometime her armes infold him like a band,
She would, he will not in her armes be bound:
And when from thence he struggles to be gone,
She locks her lillie fingers one in one.
Fondling, she saith, since I haue hemd thee here
230VVithin the circuit of this iuorie pale,
Ile be a parke, and thou shalt be my deare:
Feed where thou wilt, on mountaine, or in dale;
Graze on my lips, and if those hils be drie,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountaines lie.
235VVitin this limit is reliefe inough,
Sweet bottome grasse, and high delightfull plaine,
Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure, and rough,
To shelter thee from tempest, and from raine:
Then be my deare, since I am such a parke,
240No dog shal rowze thee, though a thousand bark.
At this Adonis smiles as in disdaine,
That in ech cheeke appeares a prettie dimple;
Loue made those hollowes, if him selfe were slaine,
He might be buried in a tombe so simple,
245Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,
VVhy there loue liu'd, & there he could not die.