And in his blood that on the ground lay spilled, She bows her head, the new sprung flower to smell, And says, within her bosom it shall dwell, "Poor flower," quoth she, "this was thy father's guise, (Sweet issue of a more sweet smelling sire,) For every little grief to wet his eyes: To grow unto himself was his desire, And so 'tis thine; but know, it is as good "Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast; Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right: Lo! in this hollow cradle take thy rest, My throbbing heart shall rock thee, day and night: There shall not be one minnte in an hour Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower." Thus weary of the world, away she hies, Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TITCHFIELD. THE love I dedicate to your Lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a superfluous moiety.1 The warrant I have of your honorable disposition, not the worth of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours, what I have to do is yours; being part in all I have, devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duty would show greater: meantime, as it is, it is bound to your Lordship to whom I wish long life, still lengthened with all hap piness. Your Lordship's in all duty, WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 1 1 Moiety. In Henry IV. Part I., and in Lear, Shakspeare uses mciety as it is here used, meaning a portion, not a half. |