376 THE GARDEN-CRAFT OF SHAKESPEARE 
The weeds of Shakespeare need no remark; they were the 
same as ours; and, in spite of our improved cultivation, our 
fields and gardens are probably as full of weeds as they were 
three centuries ago. 
(I) 
B. Blights, Frosts, etc. 
Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud, 
And caterpillars eat my leaves away. 
2nd Henry VI, iii. 1, 89. 
(2) 
But he, his own affection’s counsellor, 
Is to himself—I will not say, how true— 
But to himself so sweet and close, 
So far from sounding and discovery, 
As is the bud bit with an envious worm, 
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, 
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. 
Romeo and Juliet , i. I, 153. 
(3) 
Comes in my father, 
And like the tyrannous breathing of the north 
Shakes all our buds from growing.— Cy?nbeline , i. 3, 35. 
( 4 ) 
A cause on foot 
Lives so in hope as in an early spring 
We see the appearing buds—which to prove fruit, 
Hope gives not so much warrant as despair 
That frost will bite them.— 2nd Henry IV, i. 3, 37 . 
( 5 ) 
She never told her love, 
But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud, 
Feed on her damask cheek.— Twelfth Night , ii. 4, 113. 
(6) Proteus. 
Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud 
The eating canker dwells, so eating love 
Inhabits in the finest wits of all. 
Valentine. 
And writers say as the most forward bud 
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 
Even so by love the young and tender wit 
Is turn’d to folly, blasting in the bud, 
Losing its verdure even in the prime 
And all the fair effects of future hopes. 
Two Gentlemen of Verona , i. 1, 42, 
