Page 2248 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, [475]
He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard,
He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks
To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr’d.

He kisses her, and she by her good will
Will never rise, so he will kiss her still. [480]

The night of sorrow now is turn’d to day:
Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth,

Like the fair sun when in his fresh array
He cheers the morn, and all the earth relieveth;
And as the bright sun glorifies the sky, [485]
So is her face illumin’d with her eye.

Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix’d,

As if from thence they borrow’d all their shine.
Were never four such lamps together mix’d,
Had not his clouded with his brow’s repine; [490]
But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light,
Shone like the moon in water seen by night.

«O where am I?», quoth she, «in earth or heaven?
Or in the ocean drench’d, or in the fire?
What hour is this, or morn, or weary even? [495]
Do I delight to die, or life desire?

But now I liv’d, and life was death’s annoy;
But now I died, and death was lively joy.

«O thou didst kill me, kill me once again!
Thy eyes’ shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine, [500]
Hath taught them scornful tricks, and such disdain,

That they have murder’d this poor heart of mine;
And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen,
But for thy piteous lips no more had seen.

«Long may they kiss each other for this cure! [505]
Oh never let their crimson liveries wear,