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Updated: May 6, 2025
Fired by the immediate and instantly proverbial popularity of Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis, he hired, we may suppose, some ready hack of unclean hand to supply him with three doggrel sonnets on the same subject, noticeable only for their porcine quality of prurience: he procured by some means a rough copy or an incorrect transcript of two genuine and unpublished sonnets by Shakespeare, which with the acute instinct of a felonious tradesman he laid atop of his worthless wares by way of gilding to their base metal: he stole from the two years published text of Love's Labour's Lost, and reproduced with more or less mutilation or corruption, the sonnet of Longavile, the "canzonet" of Biron, and the far lovelier love-song of Dumaine.
Then he sang too other lines of the canzonet, "She is fair Beyond compare," repeating it to express the imploring poesy which abounds in the heart of a timid young man, brave only when alone. Dreams were in that undulating song, sung, resung, interrupted, renewed, and hushed at last in a final modulation, the tones of which died away like the lingering vibrations of a bell.
A rich voluptuous languor of dim pain, A dreamy sense of passionate regret, Delicious tears and some sweet, sad refrain, Some throbbing, vague, and tender canzonet, That mourns for life so real and so vain, Wherein we glory while our eyes are wet. I am afraid, if I pursue this investigation, I shall end by believing that satire is simply an aesthetic satisfaction the last luxury of the sinful.
"Fear nothing if you're honest," he said, but she ignored him and kept her thoughts to herself. She had grown very pale and her eyes roamed over the strange faces around her. Silence fell and in five minutes came the chink of the iron gate and the footfall of a man without. Doria was singing his canzonet.
On the clouds of memory the saddened face of his mother appeared to him; he saw once more her feeble smile, he heard her gentle voice; she bowed her head and wept. The lights in the cottage were extinguished. Etienne sang once more the pretty canzonet, with a new expression, a new meaning. From afar Gabrielle again replied.
"Her complexion is as good as if I had given her some of my sovereign balsam of beauty," said Domingo Lamelyn. "Much better," observed Joungevello, the minstrel; "I shall write a canzonet in her praise, and sing it before the king." "And get flouted for thy pains by the Lady Anne," said Kit Coo.
Love, cunning love, told him all at once. This was the meaning of last night's canzonet! This was why its words had seemed to fit his own heart so well! His brother was his rival. And he had been telling him all his love last night. What a stupid brute he was! How it must have made poor Frank wince! And then Frank had listened so kindly; even bid him God speed in his suit.
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