Would they not wish the feast might ever last, Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd, Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds, This ill presage advisedly she marketh : His meaning struck her ere his words begun. And at his look she flatly falleth down, Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red; And all-amazed brake off his late intent, He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd; He kisses her; and she, by her good will, Will never rise, so he will kiss her still. The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day : Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd, Shone like the moon in water seen by night. "O, where am I?" quoth she, “in earth or heaven, Or in the ocean drench'd, or in the fire? But now I lived, and life was death's annoy; "O, thou didst kill me ;-kill me once again : Thy eyes' shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine, Hath taught them scornful tricks, and such disdain, That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine; And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen, But for thy piteous lips no more had seen. "Long may they kiss each other, for this cure! "Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, What bargains may I make, still to be sealing? To sell myself can be well contented, So thou wilt buy, and pay, and use good deal ing; Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips, Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips. "A thousand kisses buys my heart from me; And pay them at thy leisure, one by one, What is ten hundred touches unto thee? Are they not quickly told, and quickly gone? Say, for non-payment that the debt should double, 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 : 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; Till, breathless, he disjoin'd, and backward drew The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth, Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew, Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drouth: He with her plenty press'd, she faint with dearth, (Their lips together glued,) fall to the earth. Now quick Desire hath caught the yielding prey, And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth ; That she will draw his lips' rich treasure dry. And having felt the sweetness of the spoil, Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil, And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage; Planting oblivion, beating reason back, Forgetting shame's pure blush, and honour's wrack. Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing, Like a wild bird being tamed with too much handling, Or as the fleet-foot roe that's tired with chasing, Or like the froward infant still'd with dandling, He now obeys, and now no more resisteth, While she takes all she can, not all she listeth. What wax so frozen but dissolves with tempering, And yields at last to every light impression? Things out of hope are compass'd oft with venturing, Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission: Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward, But then woos best when most his choice is froward. When he did frown, O, had she then gave over, Such nectar from his lips she had not suck'd. Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover; What though the rose have prickles, yet 'tis pluck'd: Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last. For pity now she can no more detain him ; The poor fool prays her that he may depart: |