Wonder of time (quoth she) this is my spight, That, you be ing dead, the day should yet be light. Since thou art dead, lo! here I prophesy Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend; It shall be waited on with jealousy, Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end, Ne'er settled equally to high or low; That all love's pleasures shall not match his woe. It shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud; And shall be blasted in a breathing while, The bottom poison, and the top o'erstraw'd With sweets, that shall the sharpest sight beguile, The strongest body shall it make most weak, Strike the wise dumb, and teach the fool to speak. It shall be sparing, and too full of riot, Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures;2 Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures; And most deceiving when it seems most just: It shall be cause of war and dire events, As dry combustious matter is to fire. Sith, in his prime, death doth my love destroy, They that love best their love shall not enjoy. By this the boy that by her side lay kill'd, Was melted like a vapour from her sight, And in his blood, that on the ground lay spill'd, A purple flower sprung up chequer'd with white, Resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood, Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood, [2]Tread the measures, i. e. to dance. MALONE. She bows her head the new-sprung flower to smell, And says, within her bosom it shall dwell, She crops the stalk, and in the branch appears And so 'tis thine; but know it is as good Here was thy father's bed, here is my breast, My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night; Thus weary of the world, away she hies, Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Venus and Adonis.-This poem is declared by the author himself to have been his first composition. It was entered in the Stationers' books by Richard Field, April 18, 1593, and again by Harrison, sen. June 23, 1594. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD. Right Honourable, THE love I dedicate to your lordship is without end whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of you honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutored lines, make it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours, what I have to do is yours, being part in all I have devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duty should show greater meantime, as it is, it is bound to your Lordship: to whom I wish long life, still lengthened with all happiness. Your Lordship's in all duty, WILL. SHAKSPEARE |