Page 2239 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

«Ay me», quoth Venus, «young, and so unkind!
What bare excuses mak’st thou to be gone!
I’ll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind
Shall cool the heat of this descending sun. [190]

I’ll make a shadow for thee of my hairs;
If they burn too, I’ll quench them with my tears.

«The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm,
And lo I lie between that sun and thee:

The heat I have from thence doth little harm, [195]
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me;
And were I not immortal, life were done,
Between this heavenly and earthly sun.

«Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel?

Nay more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth; [200]
Art thou a woman’s son and canst not feel
What ’tis to love, how want of love tormenteth?
O had thy mother borne so hard a mind,
She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind.

«What am I that tou shouldst contemn me this, [205]
Or what great danger dwells upon my suit?
What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss?
Speak, fair, but speak fair words, or else be mute.

Give me one kiss, I’ll give it thee again,
And one for int’rest, if thou wilt have twain. [210]

«Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,
Well-painted idol, image dull and dead,
Statue contenting but the eye alone,

Thing like a man, but of no woman bred!
Thou art no man, though of a man’s complexion, [215]
For men will kiss even by their own direction».

This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And swelling passion doth provoke a pause.