Читать книгу Love Potions Through the Ages: A Study of Amatory Devices and Mores онлайн

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Now, what I might before, I could not do,

For cold as ice the fearful thing withdrew;

And shrunk behind a wrinkled canopy,

Hiding his head from my revenge and me.

Thus, by his fear, I’m baulkt of my design,

When I in words more killing vent my spleen.

At what time, raising myself on the bed, in this or like manner, I reproacht the sullen impotent: With what face can you look up, thou shame of heaven and man? that can’st not be seriously mention’d. Have I deserv’d from you, when rais’d within sight of heavens of joys, to be struck down to the lowest hell? To have a scandal fixt on the very prime and vigor of my years, and to be reduc’d to the weakness of an old man? I beseech you, sir, give me an epitaph on my departed vigor; tho’ in a great heat I had thus said:

He still continu’d looking on the ground,

Nor more, at this had rais’d his guilty head

Than th’ drooping poppy on its tender stalk.

Nor when I had done, did I less repent of my ridiculous passion, and with a conscious blush, began to think, how unaccountable it was, that forgetting all shame, I shou’d contend with that part of me, that all men of sense, reckon not worth their thoughts. A little after, relapsing to my former humor: But what’s the crime, began I, if by a natural complaint I was eas’d of my grief? or how is it, that we blame our stomachs or bellies, when ’tis our heads, that are distemper’d? Did not Ulysses beat his breast, as if that had disturb’d him? And don’t we see the actors punish their eyes, as if they heard the tragic scene? Those that have the gout in their legs, swear at them; Those that have it in their fingers, do so by them: Those that have sore eyes, are angry with their eyes.