Page 2255 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

To hearken if his foes pursue him still.
Anon their loud alarums he doth hear; [700]
And now his grief may be compared well
To one sore sick, that hears the passing bell.

«Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch

Turn, and return, indenting with the way.
Each envious briar his weary legs do scratch, [705]
Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:

For misery is trodden on by many,
And being low, never reliev’d by any.

«Lie quietly, and hear a little more;
Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise. [710]
To make thee hate the hunting of the boar,

Unlike myself thou hear’st me moralise,
Applying this to that, and so to so,
For love can comment upon every woe.

«Where did I leave?» «No matter where», quoth he; [715]
«Leave me, and then the story aptly ends:

The night is spent». «Why, what of that?» quoth she.
«I am», quot he, «expected of my friends,
And now ’tis dark, and going I shall fall».
«In night», quoth she, «desire sees best of all. [720]

«But if thou fall, oh then imagine this:

The earth in love with thee thy footing trips,
And all is but to rob thee of a kiss.
Rich preys make true men thieves; so do thy lips
Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn, [725]

Lest she should steal a kiss and die forsworn.

«Now of this dark night I perceive the reason:
Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine,
Till forging nature be condemn’d of treason,
For stealing moulds from heaven, that were divine; [730]