Page 2292 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

From earth’s dark womb some gentle gust doth get,
Which blow these pitchy vapours from their biding, [550]
Hind’ring their present fall by this dividing:
So his unhallowed haste her words delays,

And moody Pluto winks while Orpheus plays.

Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally,
While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse panteth. [555]
Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly,

A swallowing gulf that even in plenty wanteth.
His ear her prayers admits, but his heart granteth
No penetrable entrance to her plaining:
Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining. [560]

Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fixed

In the remorseless wrinkles of his face.
Her modest eloquence with sighs is mixed,
Which to her oratory adds more grace.
She puts the period often from his place, [565]
And ’midst the sentence so her accent breaks

That twice she doth begin ere once she speaks.

She conjures him by high almighty Jove,
By knighthood, gentry, and sweet friendship’s oath,
By her untimely tears, her husband’s love, [570]

By holy human law and common troth,
By heaven and earth, and all the power of both,
That to his borrowed bed he make retire,
And stoop to honour, not to foul desire.

Quoth she, «Reward not hospitality [575]

With such black payment as thou hast pretended.
Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee,
Mar not the thing that cannot be amended.
End thy ill aim before thy shoot be ended;

He is no woodman that doth bend his bow [580]
To strike a poor unseasonable doe.