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THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM.

[UNDER this title, which had no apparent relation to the contents of the volume, William Jaggard, a bookseller, published in 1599 a small miscellany of poems written by different persons, fraudulently placing on the title-page the name of William Shakspeare.

Few deceptions of this kind have ever been more deliberately committed. Jaggard not only ascribed pieces to Shakspeare which he could have had no ground for believing to have been written by him, but others which he knew were not. Amongst the latter were a Sonnet and an Ode by Richard Barnefield, which had been published with Barnefield's name only a year before. From a collection of Sonnets by B. Griffin, entitled Fidessa more Chaste than Kind, published in 1596, Jaggard extracted another piece; from Marlowe he stole the well-known madrigal, Come Live with me, and be my Love; and upon Heywood's Britayne's Troy, the authorship of which was notorious, he levied still more important contributions. Of the poems, or fragments, supposed to belong to Shakspeare, (the whole of which are here collected,) a few are known, and others are doubtful. That Jaggard had some legitimate unpublished materials to build his speculation upon is shown in two Sonnets of Shakspeare's which he published for the first time, and which were afterwards printed in the authorized collection of 1609, where they were numbered, as in the preceding series, 138 and 144. He also availed himself of some of the songs in the plays; and contrived, upon the whole, to embrace a sufficient quantity of Shakspeare's verse to give a colourable excuse for the introduction of his name. Of the remaining pieces that have not been traced to other sources, there are now no means of judging except by internal evidence; and in such light, fanciful productions, style and manner are not very certain tests. The fragments to which, upon these grounds, the greatest doubt seems to attach are those numbered 13 and 15.]

I

WEET Cytherea, sitting by a brook,

SWE

With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green,
Did court the lad with many a lovely look,

Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen.
She told him stories to delight his ear;

She showed him favours to allure his

eye;

To win his heart, she touched him here and there:
Touches so soft still conquer chastity.

But whether unripe years did want conceit,
Or he refused to take her figured proffer,
The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,
But smile and jest at every gentle offer:

Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward;
He rose, and ran away; ah, fool, too froward!

2

Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn,
And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade,
When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,

A longing tarriance for Adonis made,
Under an osier growing by a brook,

A brook, where Adon used to cool his spleen.
Hot was the day; she hotter that did look
For his approach, that often there had been.
Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,
And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim;
The sun looked on the world with glorious eye,
Yet not so wistly as this queen on him.

He spying her, bounced in, whereas he stood;
'O Jove,' quoth she,' why was not I a flood?'

3

Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love,

*

*The intermediate line is lost.

Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,
For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild;
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill:
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds;
She, silly queen, with more than love's good will,
Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds;
'Once,' quoth she, 'did I see a fair sweet youth
Here in these brakes deep-wounded by a boar,
Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth!

See in my thigh,' quoth she, 'here was the sore.' She showed hers; he saw more wounds than one, And blushing fled, and left her all alone.

Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her,t
Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him:
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,
And as he fell to her, she fell to him.‡

"Even thus,' quoth she, 'the warlike god embraced me!' And then she clipped Adonis in her arms:

• Even thus,' quoth she, 'the warlike god unlaced me!'
As if the boy should use like loving charms.
Even thus,' quoth she, 'he seizèd on my lips!'
And with her lips on his did act the seizure;
And as she fetchèd breath, away he skips,
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.
Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,

To kiss and clip me till I run away!

*This sonnet is also found, with some variations, in a collection of sonnets by B. Griffin, entitled Fidessa more Chaste than Kind, published in 1596. The authorship, consequently, is doubtful.

↑ This line is adopted from Griffin. Jaggard's version of it is imperfect

Venus with Adonis sitting by her.

From Griffin also. Jaggard reads:

And as he fell to her, she fell to him.

5

Crabbed age and youth
Cannot live together;
Youth is full of pleasance.
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport,

Age's breath is short,

Youth is nimble, age is lame:
Youth is hot and bold,

Age is weak and cold;

Youth is wild, and age is tame.

Age, I do abhor thee,

Youth, I do adore thee;

O, my love, my love is young!

Age, I do defy thee;

O sweet shepherd, hie thee,

For methinks thou stay'st too long!

6

Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely plucked, soon vaded!
Plucked in the bud, and vaded in the spring!
Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded!
Fair creature, killed too soon by death's sharp sting!
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,

I

And falls, through wind, before the fall should be.

weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;

For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will:
And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave;
For why? I cravèd nothing of thee still:

O, yes, dear friend! I pardon crave of thee;
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.

7

Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle,
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty;
Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle,
Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty:

A lily pale, with damask die to grace her,
None fairer, nor none falser to deface her.

Her lips to mine how often hath she joined,
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!
How many tales to please me hath she coined,
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings.
She burned with love, as straw with fire flameth;
She burned out love, as soon as straw outburneth;
She framed the love, and yet she foiled the framing;
She bade love last, and yet she fell a turning.
Was this a lover, or a lecher whether?

Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.

*8

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world could not hold argument+
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke, deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gained, cures all disgrace in me.
My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is;
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,
Exhale this vapour vow; in thee it is:

If broken, then it is no fault of mine.

*This sonnet is introduced in Love's Labour Lost, iv. 3.
In Love's Labour Lost, the reading is 'cannot hold argument.'

SHAKSPEARE.

16