A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
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A LOVER'S
COMPLAINT
William Shakespeare
1609
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
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From off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from
a sist'ring vale, My spirits t'attend this double voice accorded, And down I
laid to list the sad-tuned tale, Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,
Tearing of papers, breaking rings atwain, Storming her world with
sorrow's wind and rain.
Upon her head a platted hive of straw, Which fortified her visage
from the sun, Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw The
carcase of a beauty spent and done. Time had not scythed all that youth
begun, Nor youth all quit, but spite of heaven's fell rage Some beauty
peeped through lattice of seared age.
Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, Which on it had conceited
characters, Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine That seasoned woe
had pelleted in tears, And often reading what contents it bears; As often
shrieking undistinguished woe, In clamours of all size, both high and low.
Sometimes her levelled eyes their carriage ride, As they did batt'ry to
the spheres intend; Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied To th' orbed
earth; sometimes they do extend Their view right on; anon their gazes lend
To every place at once, and nowhere fixed, The mind and sight
distractedly commixed.
Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, Proclaimed in her a
careless hand of pride; For some, untucked, descended her sheaved hat,
Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; Some in her threaden fillet still
did bide, And, true to bondage, would not break from thence, Though
slackly braided in loose negligence.
A thousand favours from a maund she drew Of amber, crystal, and of
beaded jet, Which one by one she in a river threw, Upon whose weeping
margent she was set; Like usury applying wet to wet, Or monarchs' hands
that lets not bounty fall Where want cries some, but where excess begs all.
Of folded schedules had she many a one, Which she perused, sighed,
tore, and gave the flood; Cracked many a ring of posied gold and bone,
Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; Found yet moe letters sadly
penned in blood, With sleided silk feat and affectedly Enswathed and
sealed to curious secrecy.
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
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These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes, And often kissed, and
often 'gan to tear; Cried, 'O false blood, thou register of lies, What
unapproved witness dost thou bear! Ink would have seemed more black
and damned here! This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, Big
discontents so breaking their contents.
A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh, Sometime a blusterer that
the ruffle knew Of court, of city, and had let go by The swiftest hours
observed as they flew, Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew; And,
privileged by age, desires to know In brief the grounds and motives of her
woe.
So slides he down upon his grained bat, And comely distant sits he by
her side; When he again desires her, being sat, Her grievance with his
hearing to divide. If that from him there may be aught applied Which may
her suffering ecstasy assuage, 'Tis promised in the charity of age.
'Father,' she says, 'though in me you behold The injury of many a
blasting hour, Let it not tell your judgement I am old: Not age, but sorrow,
over me hath power. I might as yet have been a spreading flower, Fresh to
myself, if I had self-applied Love to myself, and to no love beside.
'But woe is me! too early I attended A youthful suit- it was to gain my
grace- O, one by nature's outwards so commended That maidens' eyes
stuck over all his face. Love lacked a dwelling and made him her place;
And when in his fair parts she did abide, She was new lodged and newly
deified.
'His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; And every light
occasion of the wind Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls. What's sweet
to do, to do will aptly find: Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind;
For on his visage was in little drawn What largeness thinks in Paradise
was sawn.
'Small show of man was yet upon his chin; His phoenix down began
but to appear, Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin, Whose bare out-
bragged the web it seemed to wear: Yet showed his visage by that cost
more dear; And nice affections wavering stood in doubt If best were as it
was, or best without.
'His qualities were beauteous as his form, For maiden-tongued he was,
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
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and thereof free; Yet if men moved him, was he such a storm As oft 'twixt
May and April is to see, When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be.
His rudeness so with his authorized youth Did livery falseness in a pride
of truth.
'Well could he ride, and often men would say, "That horse his mettle
from his rider takes: Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, What rounds,
what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!" And controversy hence a
question takes Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his
manage by th' well-doing steed.
'But quickly on this side the verdict went: His real habitude gave life
and grace To appertainings and to ornament, Accomplished in himself, not
in his case, All aids, themselves made fairer by their place, Came for
additions; yet their purposed trim Pierced not his grace, but were all
graced by him.
'So on the tip of his subduing tongue All kind of arguments and
question deep, All replication prompt, and reason strong, For his
advantage still did wake and sleep. To make the weeper laugh, the laugher
weep, He had the dialect and different skill, Catching all passions in his
craft of will,
'That he did in the general bosom reign Of young, of old, and sexes
both enchanted, To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain In personal
duty, following where he haunted. Consents bewitched, ere he desire, have
granted, And dialogued for him what he would say, Asked their own wills,
and made their wills obey.
'Many there were that did his picture get, To serve their eyes, and in it
put their mind; Like fools that in th' imagination set The goodly objects
which abroad they find Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assigned;
And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them Than the true gouty
landlord which doth owe them.
'So many have, that never touched his hand, Sweetly supposed them
mistress of his heart. My woeful self, that did in freedom stand, And was
my own fee-simple, not in part, What with his art in youth, and youth in
art, Threw my affections in his charmed power Reserved the stalk and
gave him all my flower.
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
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'Yet did I not, as some my equals did, Demand of him, nor being
desired yielded; Finding myself in honour so forbid, With safest distance I
mine honour shielded. Experience for me many bulwarks builded Of
proofs new-bleeding, which remained the foil Of this false jewel, and his
amorous spoil.
'But ah, who ever shunned by precedent The destined ill she must
herself assay? Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content, To put the by-
past perils in her way? Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay; For
when we rage, advice is often seen By blunting us to make our wills more
keen.
'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood That we must curb it upon
others' proof, To be forbod the sweets that seems so good For fear of
harms that preach in our behoof. O appetite, from judgement stand aloof!
The one a palate hath that needs will taste, Though Reason weep, and cry
it is thy last.
'For further I could say this man's untrue, And knew the patterns of
his foul beguiling; Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew; Saw
how deceits were gilded in his smiling; Knew vows were ever brokers to
defiling; Thought characters and words merely but art, And bastards of his
foul adulterate heart.
'And long upon these terms I held my city, Till thus he 'gan besiege
me: "Gentle maid, Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity, And be
not of my holy vows afraid. That's to ye sworn to none was ever said; For
feasts of love I have been called unto, Till now did ne'er invite nor never
woo.
'"All my offences that abroad you see Are errors of the blood, none of
the mind; Love made them not; with acture they may be, Where neither
party is nor true nor kind. They sought their shame that so their shame did
find; And so much less of shame in me remains By how much of me their
reproach contains.
'"Among the many that mine eyes have seen, Not one whose flame
my heart so much as warmed, Or my affection put to th' smallest teen, Or
any of my leisures ever charmed. Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was
harmed; Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, And reigned
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
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commanding in his monarchy.
'"Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent me, Of paled pearls
and rubies red as blood; Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me
Of grief and blushes, aptly understood In bloodless white and the
encrimsoned mood- Effects of terror and dear modesty, Encamped in
hearts, but fighting outwardly.
'"And, lo, behold these talents of their hair, With twisted metal
amorously empleached, I have receiv'd from many a several fair, Their
kind acceptance weepingly beseeched, With the annexions of fair gems
enriched, And deep-brained sonnets that did amplify Each stone's dear
nature, worth, and quality.
'"The diamond? why, 'twas beautiful and hard, Whereto his invised
properties did tend; The deep-green em'rald, in whose fresh regard Weak
sights their sickly radiance do amend; The heaven-hued sapphire and the
opal blend With objects manifold; each several stone, With wit well
blazoned, smiled, or made some moan.
'"Lo, all these trophies of affections hot, Of pensived and subdued
desires the tender, Nature hath charged me that I hoard them not, But yield
them up where I myself must render- That is, to you, my origin and ender;
For these, of force, must your oblations be, Since I their altar, you
enpatron me.
'"O then advance of yours that phraseless hand Whose white weighs
down the airy scale of praise; Take all these similes to your own command,
Hallowed with sighs that burning lungs did raise; What me your minister
for you obeys Works under you; and to your audit comes Their distract
parcels in combined sums.
'"Lo, this device was sent me from a nun, Or sister sanctified, of
holiest note, Which late her noble suit in court did shun, Whose rarest
havings made the blossoms dote; For she was sought by spirits of richest
coat, But kept cold distance, and did thence remove To spend her living in
eternal love.
'"But, O my sweet, what labour is't to leave The thing we have not,
mast'ring what not strives, Playing the place which did no form receive,
Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves! She that her fame so to
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
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herself contrives, The scars of battle scapeth by the flight, And makes her
absence valiant, not her might.
'"O pardon me in that my boast is true! The accident which brought
me to her eye Upon the moment did her force subdue, And now she would
the caged cloister fly. Religious love put out religion's eye. Not to be
tempted, would she be immured, And now to tempt all liberty procured.
'"How mighty then you are, O hear me tell! The broken bosoms that
to me belong Have emptied all their fountains in my well, And mine I pour
your ocean all among. I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong,
Must for your victory us all congest, As compound love to physic your
cold breast.
'"My parts had pow'r to charm a sacred nun, Who, disciplined, ay,
dieted in grace, Believed her eyes when they t'assail begun, All vows and
consecrations giving place, O most potential love, vow, bond, nor space,
In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, For thou art all, and all things
else are thine.
'"When thou impressest, what are precepts worth Of stale example?
When thou wilt inflame, How coldly those impediments stand forth, Of
wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame! Love's arms are peace, 'gainst
rule, 'gainst sense, 'gainst shame. And sweetens, in the suff'ring pangs it
bears, The aloes of all forces, shocks and fears.
'"Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, Feeling it break, with
bleeding groans they pine, And supplicant their sighs to your extend, To
leave the batt'ry that you make 'gainst mine, Lending soft audience to my
sweet design, And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath, That shall
prefer and undertake my troth."
'This said, his wat'ry eyes he did dismount, Whose sights till then
were levelled on my face; Each cheek a river running from a fount With
brinish current downward flowed apace. O, how the channel to the stream
gave grace! Who glazed with crystal gate the glowing roses That flame
through water which their hue encloses.
'O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies In the small orb of one
particular tear! But with the inundation of the eyes What rocky heart to
water will not wear? What breast so cold that is not warmed here? O cleft
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
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effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, Both fire from hence and chill extincture
hath.
'For lo, his passion, but an art of craft, Even there resolved my reason
into tears; There my white stole of chastity I daffed, Shook off my sober
guards and civil fears; Appear to him as he to me appears, All melting;
though our drops this diff'rence bore: His poisoned me, and mine did him
restore.
'In him a plenitude of subtle matter, Applied to cautels, all strange
forms receives, Of burning blushes or of weeping water, Or swooning
paleness; and he takes and leaves, In either's aptness, as it best deceives,
To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, Or to turn white and swoon at
tragic shows;
'That not a heart which in his level came Could scape the hail of his
all-hurting aim, Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; And, veiled in
them, did win whom he would maim. Against the thing he sought he
would exclaim; When he most burned in heart-wished luxury, He preached
pure maid and praised cold chastity.
'Thus merely with the garment of a Grace The naked and concealed
fiend he covered, That th' unexperient gave the tempter place, Which, like
a cherubin, above them hovered. Who, young and simple, would not be so
lovered? Ay me, I fell, and yet do question make What I should do again
for such a sake.
'O, that infected moisture of his eye, O, that false fire which in his
cheek so glowed, O, that forced thunder from his heart did fly, O, that sad
breath his spongy lungs bestowed, O, all that borrowed motion, seeming
owed, Would yet again betray the fore-betrayed, And new pervert a
reconciled maid.'
THE END
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
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