eBook - ePub
Venus and Adonis
William Shakespeare
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- English
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eBook - ePub
Venus and Adonis
William Shakespeare
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Classic Books Library presents this new beautiful edition of William Shakespeare's narrative poem, "Venus and Adonis". Featuring a specially commissioned new biography of William Shakespeare, it is a must for Shakespeare enthusiasts and newcomers alike. The poem intertwines comedy with tragedy to tell the tale of Venus's obsession with the handsome Adonis, whose affections even the goddess of love cannot hold. It explores the pain of unrequited love and grief and is known for its beautiful depictions of nature. William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616) was an English playwright, poet, and actor. He is considered to be the greatest writer in the English language and is celebrated as the world's most famous dramatist.
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LetteraturaSous-sujet
Teatro shakespearianoVENUS AND ADONIS
Even as the sun with purple-colourâd face
Had taâen his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheekâd Adonis tried him to the chase;
Hunting he lovâd, but love he laughâd to scorn; 4
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-facâd suitor âgins to woo him.
âThrice fairer than myself,â thus she began,
âThe fieldâs chief flower, sweet above compare, 8
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are:
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life. 12
âVouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know: 16
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, Iâll smother thee with kisses.
âAnd yet not cloy thy lips with loathâd satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty, 20
Making them red, and pale, with fresh variety:
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summerâs day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.â 24
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earthâs sovereign salve to do a goddess good: 28
Being so enragâd, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courserâs rein,
Under her other was the tender boy, 32
Who blushâd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire. 36
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens;âO! how quick is love!â
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove: 40
Backward she pushâd him, as she would be thrust,
And governâd him in strength, though not in lust.
So soon was she along, as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips: 44
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And âgins to chide, but soon she stops his lips,
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
âIf thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.â 48
He burns with bashful shame, she with her tears
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;
Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs
To fan and blow them dry again she seeks 52
He saith she is immodest, blames her miss;
What follows more, she murders with a kiss.
Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone, 56
Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,
Till either gorge be stuffâd or prey be gone:
Even so she kissâd his brow, his cheek, his chin,
And where she ends she doth anew begin. 60
Forcâd to content, but never to obey,
Panting he lies, and breatheth in her face.
She feedeth on the steam, as on a prey,
And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace, 64
Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers
So they were dewâd with such distilling showers.
Look how a bird lies tangled in a net,
So fastenâd in her arms Adonis lies; 68
Pure shame and awâd resistance made him fret,
Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes:
Rain added to a river that is rank
Perforce will force it overflow the bank. 72
Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,
For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale.
Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets,
âTwixt crimson shame and anger ashy pale; 76
Being red she loves him best, and being white,
Her best is betterâd with a more delight.
Look how he can, she cannot choose but love;
And by her fair immortal hand she swears, 80
From his soft bosom never to remove,
Till he take truce with her contending tears,
Which long have rainâd, making her cheeks all wet;
And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.
Upon this promise did he raise his chin, 85
Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave,
Who, being lookâd on, ducks as quickly in;
So offers he to give what she did crave, 88
But when her lips were ready for his pay,
He winks, and turns his lips another way.
Never did passenger in summerâs heat
More thirst for drink than she for this good turn. 92
Her help she sees, but help she cannot get;
She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn:
âO! pity,â âgan she cry, âflint-hearted boy,
âTis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy? 96
âI have been wooâd as I entreat thee now,
Even by the stern and direful god of war,
Whose sinewy neck in battle neâer did bow,
Who conquers where he comes in every jar; 100
Yet hath he been my captive and my slave,
And beggâd for that which thou unaskâd shalt have.
âOver my altars hath he hung his lance,
His batterâd shield, his uncontrolled crest, 104
And for my sake hath learnâd to sport and dance,
To toy, to wanton, dally, smile, and jest;
Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red
Making my arms his field, his tent my bed. 108
âThus he that overrulâd I overswayâd,
Leading him prisoner in a red rose chain:
Strong-temperâd steel his stronger strength obeyâd,
Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. 112
Oh be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,
For mastâring her that foilâd the god of fight.
âTouch but my lips with those fair lips of thine,
Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red, 116
The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine:
What seeâst thou in the ground? hold up thy head,
Look in mine eyeballs, there thy beauty lies;
Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes? 120
âArt thou ashamâd to kiss? then wink again,
And I will wink; so shall the day seem night.
Love keeps his revels where there are but twain;
Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight, 124
These blue-veinâd violets whereon we lean
Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.
âThe tender spring upon thy tempting lip 127
Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted,
Make use of time, let not advantage slip;
Beauty within itself should not be wasted,
Fair flowers that are not gatherâd in their prime
Rot, and consume themselves in little time. 132
âWere I hard-favourâd, foul, or wrinkled old,
Ill-nurturâd, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice,
Oâerworn, despised, rheumatic, and cold,
Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice, 136
Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee;
But having no defects, why dost abhor me?
âThou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow, 139
Mine eyes are grey and bright, and quick in turning;
My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow,
My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning,
My smooth moist hand, were ...