Page 2253 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

But having thee at vantage − wondrous dread! − [635]
Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.

«Oh let him keep his loathsome cabin still!
Beauty hath naught to do with such foul fiends.
Come not within his danger by thy will:

They that thrive well, take counsel of their friends. [640]
When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,
I fear’d thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.

«Didst thou not mark my face, was it not white?
Saw’st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye?

Grew I not faint, and fell I not downright? [645]
Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie,
My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest,

But like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast.

«For where love reigns, diturbing jealousy
Doth call himself affection’s sentinel; [650]
Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny,
And in a peaceful hour doth cry “Kill, kill!”

Distemp’ring gentle love in his desire,
As air and water do abate the fire.

«This sour informer, this bate-breeding spy, [655]
This canker that eats up love’s tender spring,
This carry-tale, dissentious jealousy,

That sometime true news, sometime false doth bring,
Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine ear,
That if I love thee, I thy death should fear. [660]

«And more than so, presenteth to mine eye

The picture of an angry chafing boar,
Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie
An image like thyself, all stain’d with gore;
Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed, [665]
Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head.