Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride; For some, untuck'd, descended her sheav'd 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 perus'd, sigh'd, tore, and gave the flood; Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone, Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; Found yet mo letters sadly penn'd in blood, With sleided silk feat and affectedly Enswath'd, and seal'd to curious secrecy.

These often bath'd she in her fluxive eyes, And often kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear; Cried, 'O false blood, thou register of lies, What unapproved witness dost thou bear! Ink would have seem'd more black and damned here!' This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, Big discontent so breaking their contents.

A Lover's Complaint Page 03

William Shakespeare Plays

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William Shakespeare
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