The Comedy of Errors
·II i 79 ·
Verse
Adriana His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age the alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? then, he hath wasted it: Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard: Do their gay vestments his affections bait? That's not my fault; he's master of my state: What ruins are in me that can be found By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayed fair A sunny look of his would soon repair; But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale And feeds from home: poor I am but his stale. [Luc.] Self-harming jealousy! fie! beat it hence. Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage otherwhere, Or else what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know he promis'd me a chain: Would that alone, alone he would detain, So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! I see, the jewel best enamelled Will lose his beauty; and though gold bides still That others touch, yet often touching will Wear gold; and no man that hath a name, By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. |