A second fear through all her sinews spread, This way she runs, and now she will no further, A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways; Full of respects, yet nought at all respecting, Here kennel'd in a brake she finds a hound, When he hath ceas'd his ill-resounding noise, Clapping their proud tails to the ground below, Look, how the world's poor people are amazed Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gazed, 154 4-is MATED with delays,] i. e. is confounded with delays. We have frequently had the word in this sense. See Vol. ii. p. 142; Vol. v. p. 159 ; Vol. vii. p. 173. Full of RESPECTS,] The two earliest editions have "respects," no doubt the true reading; the later impressions, respect, which is adopted by all modern editors. Shakespeare constantly uses the word in the plural, as in "King Lear," Vol. vii. p. 365 :— "Love is not love When it is mingled with respects, that stand and again, lower down in the same page, "Since that respects of fortune are his love, I shall not be his wife." "Respects" there, as well as above in the text, means considerations, a sense it not unfrequently bears in old authors. ང So she at these sad signs draws up her breath, Hard-favour'd tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean, Grim grinning ghost, earth's worm, what dost thou mean, Who when he liv'd, his breath and beauty set If he be dead,-O no! it cannot be, Thy mark is feeble age; but thy false dart Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke, Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such weeping? Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping Here overcome, as one full of despair, But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain, She VAIL'D her eye-lids,] i. e. she lowered her eye-lids. Few words not now in use have occurred more frequently than the verb to rail. See Vol. ii. p. 89. 361. 476, &c. It occurs just as frequently in other authors of the time as in Shakespeare. VOL. VIII. D d Her O, how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow! Variable passions throng her constant woe, But none is best; then, join they all together, By this far off she hears some huntsman hollow; This sound of hope doth labour to expel; For now reviving joy bids her rejoice, Whereat her tears began to turn their tide, O hard-believing love, how strange it seems The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely, Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought; It was not she that call'd him all to nought; Now she adds honours to his hateful name; She clepes him king of graves, and grave for kings, No, no, quoth she, sweet Death, I did but jest; Then, gentle shadow, (truth I must confess) 'Tis not my fault: the boar provok'd my tongue; Grief hath two tongues, and never woman yet Thus hoping that Adonis is alive, Her rash suspect she doth extenuate ; And that his beauty may the better thrive, Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs, and stories, O Jove! quoth she, how much a fool was I, To wail his death, who lives, and must not die, For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, Fie, fie, fond love! thou art so full of fear, Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves. As falcons to the lure', away she flies: The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light; 7 AS FALCONS to the lure,] So the editions of 1593, 1594, and 1596: the impression of 1600 first introduced falcon, and that word has been adopted by modern editors, as if it had been the most ancient and authentic reading. In the last line but one of this stanza, we prefer “as” to are of the copy of 1593, because it seems required, and because we find the change made in the edition of the following year, which is supported by those of 1596 and 1600: the Edinburgh impression of 1627 has are. 8 And in her haste unfortunately spies The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight: Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit, So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled Where they resign their office and their light 174 Whereat each tributary subject quakes; That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes; 8 And, being open'd, threw unwilling light In his soft flank; whose wonted lily white No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf, or weed, This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth; She thinks he could not die, he is not dead: threw unwilling LIGHT] "Light" is the word in the two earliest editions of 1593 and 1594: in that of 1596, night (not right, as Malone states) was substituted, and it became sight in the impression of 1600, and in that of Edinburgh, 1627. 9 -WAS drench'd:] Here we necessarily follow the copy of 1600, for all the earlier impressions read "had drench'd." |