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- # VENYS AND ADONIS.
VVhereat her teares began to turne their tide,
Being prison in her eye: like pearles in glaffe,
Yet sometimes fals an orient drop befide,
VVhich her cheeke melts, as scorning it should paffe
To wash the foule face of the fluttish ground,
VVho is but dronken when she seemeth drownd.
O hard beleeuing loue how strange it seems!
Not to beleeu, and yet too credulous:
Thy weale, and wo, are both of them extreames,
Defpaire, and hope, makes thee ridiculous.
The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely,
In likely thoughts the other kils thee quickly.
Now she vnweaues the web that she hath wrought,
Adonis liues, and death is not to blame:
It was not she that cald him all to nought;
Now she ads honours to his hatefull name.
She clepes him king of graues, & graue for kings,
Imperious supreme of all mortall things.
No, no, quoth she, sweet death, I did but ieft,
Yet pardon me, I felt a kind of feare
VVhen as I met the boare, that bloodie beaft,
VVhich knowes no pitie but is still seuere,
Then gentle shadow (truth I muft confeffe)
I rayld on thee, fearing my loues deceffe.
Tis
II. 979—1002
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