The plant-lore & garden-craft of ShakespeareEllacombe, Henry Nicholson
General
The plant-lore & garden-craft of Shakespeare
Ellacombe, Henry Nicholson
Gardens in literature; Plants in literature; Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 -- Knowledge -- Botany
Thou young and Rose-lipp'd cherubim.
_Othello_, act iv, sc. 2 (63).
(42)
Roses, their sharp spines being gone,
Not royall in their smells alone
But in their hue.
_Two Noble Kinsmen_, Introd. song.
(43) _Emilia._
Of all flowres
Methinks a Rose is best.
_Woman._
Why, gentle madam?
_Emilia._
It is the very Embleme of a maide.
For when the west wind courts her gently,
How modestly she blows, and paints the Sun
With her chaste blushes? When the north winds neere her,
Rude and impatient, then, like Chastity,
Shee locks her beauties in her bud againe,
And leaves him to base Briers.
_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 2 (160).
(44) _Wooer._
With cherry lips and cheekes of Damaske Roses.
_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 2 (95).
(45) _See_ NETTLES, No. 13.
(46)
Roses have thorns and silver fountains mud,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
_Sonnet_ xxxv.
(47)
The Rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour that doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the Roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses;
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade;
Die to themselves--sweet Roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.
_Sonnet_ liv.
(48)
Why should poor beauty indirectly seek
Roses of shadow, since his Rose is true?
_Ibid._ lxvii.
(49)
Shame, like a canker in the fragrant Rose,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name.
_Ibid._ xcv.
(50)
Nor did I wonder at the Lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion of the Rose.
_Ibid._ xcviii.
(51)
The Roses fearfully in thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath.
_Ibid._ xcix.
(52)
I have seen Roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such Roses see I in her cheeks.
_Ibid._ cxxx.
(53)
More white and red than dove and Roses are.
_Venus and Adonis_ (10).
(54)
What though the Rose has prickles? yet 'tis plucked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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