He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears | And for my sake hath learn'd to sport and dance, Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks; Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, And where she ends she doth anew begin. 60 So they were dew'd with such distilling showers. Look! how a bird lies tangled in a net, To toy, to wanton, dally, smile and jest ; 'Thus he that overrul'd I oversway'd, obey'd, Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. 110 O! be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, 'Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine, Look in mine eyeballs, there thy beauty lies; 'Art thou asham'd to kiss? then wink again, 121 Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight: These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean 70 Never can blab, nor know not what we mean. 'The tender spring upon thy tempting lip Shows thee unripe, yet may'st thou well be Still she entreats, and prettily entreats, Her best is better'd with a more delight. Upon this promise did he raise his chin, But when her lips were ready for his pay, Never did passenger in summer's heat 'O! pity,' 'gan she cry, 'flint-hearted boy : 'I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, have. 'Over my altars hath he hung his lance, His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest, tasted. Make use of time, let not advantage slip; Rot and consume themselves in little time. 'Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old. But having no defects, why dost abhor me? 140 My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow; Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt. 'Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie ; abuse: Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth beauty; Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty. Upon the earth's increase why should'st thou feed, 170 Unless the earth with thy increase be fed? By this the love-sick queen began to sweat, And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat, 180 And now Adonis, with a lazy spright, The sun doth burn my face; I must remove.' Ay me!' quoth Venus, 'young, and so unkind? What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone; I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind Shall cool the heat of this descending sun : 190 I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs; If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears. The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm, And, lo! I lie between that sun and thee: 201 Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel? Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth. Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel What 'tis to love? how want of love tormenteth? O had thy mother borne so hard a mind, She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind. What am I, that thou should'st contemn me this? Or what great danger dwells upon my suit? What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss? Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be | Fie! lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone, Well-painted idol, image dull and dead, Statue contenting but the eye alone, Thing like a man, but of no woman bred: Thou art no man, though of a man's com plexion, For men will kiss even by their own direction. This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue. And swelling passion doth provoke a pause; Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong: Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause: And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak, And now her sobs do her intendments break. Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand; Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground: Within the circuit of this ivory pale, Then be my deer, since I am such a park: At this Adonis smiles as in disdain, Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie, These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits, Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn. Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say? Her words are done, her woes the more increas ing; The time is spent, her object will away, Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth, 270 His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire, Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps, Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him, All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits, An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd, As who should say 'Lo! thus my strength is He sees her coming, and begins to glow, tried; And this I do to captivate the eye What recketh he his rider's angry stir, 280 He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, Look, when a painter would surpass the life, 290 308 He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her; Then, like a melancholy malecontent, His love, perceiving how he is enrag'd, His testy master goeth about to take him ; Even as a dying coal revives with wind, O! what a sight it was, wistly to view 350 Now was she just before him as he sat, And all this dumb play had his acts made plain 860 Full gently now she takes him by the hand, Once more the engine of her thoughts began : feel it?' 371 'Give me my hand,' saith he, 'why dost thou 'Give me my heart,' saith she, 'and thou shalt have it: O! give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it, 380 'For shame!' he cries, 'let go, and let me go ; Thus she replies: "Thy palfrey, as he should, The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none; Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone. How like a jade he stood, tied to the tree, 391 Servilely master'd with a leathern rein! But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee, He held such petty bondage in disdain ; Throwing the base thong from his bending crest, Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast. Who is so faint, that dare not be so bold 400 'Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy, O! learn to love; the lesson is but plain, 410 'I know not love,' quoth he, 'nor will not know it, Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd? Loseth his pride and never waxeth strong. 420 'You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part, And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat : Remove your siege from my unyielding heart; To love's alarms it will not ope the gate: Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery; For where a heart is hard, they make no battery.' 'What! canst thou talk?' quoth she, 'hast thou a tongue? O! would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing; Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong; I had my load before, now press'd with bearing: Melodious discord, heavenly tune harshsounding, 431 Ear's deep-sweet music, and heart's deep-sore wounding, Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love That inward beauty and invisible; Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see, 'Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me, And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, And nothing but the very smell were left me, Yet would my love to thee be still as much; For from the still'tory of thy face excelling Comes breath perfum'd that breedeth love by smelling. But O! what banquet wert thou to the taste, Being nurse and feeder of the other four; Would they not wish the feast might ever last, And bid Suspicion double-lock the door, Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest, Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast!' Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd, 451 Which to his speech did honey passage yield; Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds. Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds. This ill presage advisedly she marketh: Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth. Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh, Or as the berry breaks before it staineth, Or like the deadly bullet of a gun, And all amaz'd brake off his late intent, He kisses her; and she, by her good will, 480 The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day: But for thy piteous lips no more had seen. 'Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, 'A thousand kisses buys my heart from me; Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?' 'Fair queen,' quoth he, 'if any love you owe me, Measure my strangeness with my unripe years: Before I know myself, seek not to know me; No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears: The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks fast. Or being early pluck'd is sour to taste. 'Look! the world's comforter, with weary gait, His day's hot task hath ended in the west; 530 The owl, night's herald, shrieks, 'tis very late; The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest, And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven's light Do summon us to part and bid good night. 'Now let me say good night, and so say you ; If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.' 'Good night,' quoth she; and ere he says adieu, The honey fee of parting tender'd is : Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace; Incorporate then they seem, face grows to face. 540 And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage; Planting oblivion, beating reason back, Forgetting shame's pure blush and honour's Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the 591 The boar!' quoth she; whereat a sudden pale, |