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But oh what banquet wert thou to the tafle,
Being nurfe and feeder of the other four !
Would they not wish the feast should ever last,
And bid fufpicion double-lock the door;

Left jealousy, that four unwelcome guest,
Should by his ftealing in disturb the feast.

Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd,
Which to his fpeech did honey paffage yield;
Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd,
Wreck to the feamen, tempeft to the field,.
Sorrow to fhepherds, woe unto the birds,
Guft and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.

This ill prefage advisedly the marketh,
Ev'n as the wind is hufh'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,-
His meaning ftruck her, ere his words begun..

And at his look fhe flatly falleth down;
For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth:
A fmile recures the wounding of a frown,
But blessed bankrupt, that by love fo thriveth!
The filly boy believing fhe is dead,

Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red.

And in amaze brake off his late intent,
For fharply he did think to reprehend her,
Which cunning love did wittily prevent,
Fair fall the wit, that can fo well defend her:
For on the grafs fhe lies, as the were flain,
Till his breath breathed life in her again.

He wrings her nofe, he ftrikes her on the cheeks,
He bends her fingers, holds her pulfes hard,
He chafes her lips, a thoufand ways he feeks
To mend the hurt, that his unkindnefs marr'd;
He kiffes her, and fhe, by her good will,
Would never rife, so he will kiss her still.

The night of forrow now is turn'd to day,
Her two blue windows faintly fhe up-heaveth ;-
Like the fair fun, when in his fresh array,
He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth::
And as the bright fun glorifies the sky,

So is her face illumin'd with her eye.

Whofe beams upon his hairless face are fix'd,
As if from thence they borrow'd all their shine :
Were never four fuch lamps together mix'd,
Had not his clouded, with his brows repine.

But hers, which thro' the cryftal tears gave light,. Shone like the moon, in water feen by night.

O! where am I! (quoth fhe) in earth, or heaven!
Or in the ocean drench'dor in the fire!
What hour is this? or morn, or weary even?
Do I delight to die? or life defire?

But now I liv'd, and life was death's annoy :
But now I dy'd, and death was lively joy.

O! thou didst kill me, kill me once again;
Thy eyes, fhrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine
Has 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 feen.

Long may they kifs each other for this cure!
Oh never let their crimfon liveries wear!
And as they laft, their verdure ftill endure,
To drive infection from the dangerous year
That the ftar-gazers having writ on death,
May fay, the plague is banish'd by thy breath.

Pure lips! fweet feals! in my foft lips imprinted,
What bargains may I make ftill to be sealing?
To fell myself, I can be well contented,,

So thou wilt buy and pay, and use good dealing:
Which purchase if thou make, for fear of flips,
Set thy feal manual on my wax-red lips.

A thoufand kiffes buys my heart from me,
And pay them at thy leisure one by one.
What is ten hundred kiffes unto thee?

Are they not quickly told, and quickly gone?
Say for non-payment that the debt fhould double,
Is twenty hundred kiffes fuch a trouble?

Fair queen (quoth he) if any love you owe me,
Measure my trangenefs with my unripe years,
Before I know myself, feek not to know me.
No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears;

The mellow plumb doth fall, the green ticks faft,.
Or being early pluck'd, is four to taste.

Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait,
His day's hot talk hath ended in the west!
The owl (night's herald) fhrieks, 'tis very late,
The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest :
The cole-black clouds, that shadow heaven's light,
Do fummon us to part, and bid good-night..

Now let me fay good-night, and fo fay your
If you will fay fo, you fhall have a kiss.
Good-night (quoth she) and ere he says adieu,
The honey fee of parting tendred is.

Her arms do lend his neck a fweet embrace,
Incorporate then they seem, face grows to face.

Till breathless he disjoin'd, and backward drew
The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,
Whofe precious tafte her thirsty lips well knew,
Whereon they furfeit, yet complain on drowth:

He with her plenty preis'd, the faint with dearth, Their lips together glu'd, fall to the earth.

Now quick defire hath caught her yielding prey,
And glutton-like fhe feeds, yet never filleth;
Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,
Paying what ranfom the infulter willeth :

Whofe vulture thought doth pitch the prize fo high
That she will draw his lips rich treasure dry,

And having felt the sweetness of the spoil,
With blindfold fury fhe begins to forage;
Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil,
And careless luft ftirs up a defperate coura

Planting oblivion, beating reafon back;
Forgetting fhame's pure blufh, and honour's wrack.

Hot, faint, and weary with her hard embracing,
Like a wild bird being tam'd with too much handling,
Or as the fleet-foot roe, that's tir'd with chafing,
Or like the froward infant ftill'd with dandling;

He now obeys, and now no more refifteth,
While fhe takes all the can, not all fhe lifteth.

What wax fo frozen, but diffolves with temp'ring?
And yields at laft to every light impression?
Things out of hope are compafs'd oft with vent'ring,
Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commiffion.

Affection faints not, like a pale-fac'd coward,
But then wooes best, when most his choice is frow-
[ard.
When he did frown, O had fhe then gave over !
Such nectar from his lips fhe had not fuck'd:
Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover;
What tho' the rofe have pricks? yet it is pluck'd:
Were beauty under twenty locks kept faft,

Yet love breaks thro', and picks them all at last.

For pity now fhe can no more detain him;
The poor fool prays her that he may depart.
She is refolv'd no longer to restrain him,
Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart;
The which by Cupid's bow the doth proteft,
He carries thence engaged in his breast.

Sweet boy, the fays, this night I'll wafte in forrow,
For my fick heart commands mine eyes to watch.
Tell me, love's mafter, fhall we meet to-morrow?
Say, fhall we, fhall we, wilt thou make the match?
He tells her no: to-morrow he intends
To hunt the boar, with certain of his friends.

The boar! (quoth fhe) whereat a sudden pale,
Like lawn being fpread upon the blushing rofe,
Ufurps her cheeks; the trembles at his tale,
And on his neck her yoking arms she throws:
She finketh down, ftill hanging on his neck,
He on her belly falls, fhe on her back.

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