INTRODUCTION. The Passionate Pilgrim was published by William Jaggard, in 1599. It was a piratical bookseller's venture, and although the popular name of Shakespeare was put upon the title-page the little volume really consisted of a collection from several authors. Shakespeare, as Heywood tells us, was much offended when Jaggard, in 1612, republished the volume, with added poems of Heywood, and with Shakespeare's name upon the title-page: a cancel of the title-page was thereupon made, and one printed without any author's name. Of the collection, Nos. I., II., ÏII., V., XII., and XVII., are probably Shakespeare's; Nos. IV., VI., VII., IX., and XIX. are possibly Shakespeare's; and the rest are certainly not Shakespeare's. After the fifteenth poem in the original collection occurs a second title-Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music. I. why not WHEN my love swears that she is made of I do believe her, though I know she lies, youth, Unskylful in the world's false forgeries. II. Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, 10 20 The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt, If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? O never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd: Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll constant prove; Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like 60 osiers bow'd. (1175) Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend. If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend ; All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire: Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue. VI. 70 Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade, When Cytherea, all in love forlorn, A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen: The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye, Yet not so wistly as this queen on him. He, spying her, bounced in, whereas he stood: 'O Jove,' quoth she, 'why was not I a flood !' VII. Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle; A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her, Her lips to mine how often hath she joined, Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing! How many tales to please me hath she coined, Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing! Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings. She burn'd with love, as straw with fire flameth; She burn'd out love, as soon as straw outburneth; She framed the love, and yet she foil'd the framing; She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning. Was this a lover, or a lecher whether? 101 Bad in the best, though excellent in neither. VILL If music and sweet poetry agree, As they must needs, the sister and the brother Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, Because thou lovest the one, and I the other. Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch Upon the lute doth ravish human sense; And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd One god is god of both, as poets feign; main. IX. Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love, Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove, 'Once,' quoth she, 'did I see a fair sweet youth Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar, Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth! See, in my thigh,' quoth she, 'here was the sore. She showed hers: he saw more wounds than one, And blushing fled, and left her all alone. 130 X. Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd soon vaded, Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring Bright orient pearl, alack, too timely shaded Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting! Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree, And falls, through wind, before the fall should be. I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have; O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee, Crabbed age and youth cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare. 160 Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee; Age, I do defy thee: O, sweet shepherd, hie thee, For methinks thou stay'st too long, XIII. 170 Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, So beauty blemish'd once 's for ever lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost. XIV. Good night, good rest. Ah, neither be my share: 181 She bade good night that kept my rest away; And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care, To descant on the doubts of my decay. Farewell,' quoth she, and come again tomorrow' [row. Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorYet at my parting sweetly did she smile, In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether: 'T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, 'T may be, again to make ine wander thither: Wander,' a word for shadows like myself, As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf. Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air: 230 Through the velvet leaves the wind, Thou for whom Jove would swear Turning mortal for thy love." 240 250 When as thine eye hath chose the dame, Take counsel of some wiser head, But plainly say thou lovest her well, What though she strive to try her strength, The strongest castle, tower, and town, 301 310 320 330 A woman's nay doth stand for nought? 340 †Think women still to strive with men, To sin and never for to saint: There is no heaven, by holy then, When time with age doth them attaint. Were kisses all the joys in bed, One woman would another wed. But, soft enough, too much, I fear; Yet will she blush, here be it said, [xx.] Live with me, and be my love, There will I make thee a bed of roses, A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs ; And if these pleasures may thee move. Then live with me and be my love. LOVE'S ANSWER. 350 360 And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, All thy friends are lapp'd in lead; Every one that flatters thee Words are easy, like the wind; Every man will be thy friend Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ; 390 400 410 420 430 |