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The steed is stalled up, and even now
Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust;
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.
So soon was she along, as he was down,
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken, 'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.'
He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears
He saith, she is immodest, blames her 'miss; 1
Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone, Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,
Till either gorge be stuff'd, or prey be gone;
Even so she kiss'd his brow, his cheek, his
And where she ends, she doth anew begin.
i. e. misbehavior.
2 Tears, pecks.
Forced to content, but never to obey,
Look, how a bird lies tangled in a net,
Pure shame and awed resistance made him fret,
Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,
Still is he sullen, still he lowers and frets,
Being red, she loves him best; and being white,
Look how he can, she cannot choose but love;
Till he take truce with her contending tears,
Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all
And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.
1 i. e. full.
Upon this promise did he raise his chin,
Never did passenger, in summer's heat,
More thirst for drink, than she for this good turn: Her help she sees, but help she cannot get;
She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn.
I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, Even by the stern and direful god of war, Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow; Who conquers where he comes, in every jar : Yet hath he been my captive and my slave. And begg'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have.
'Over my altars hath he hung his lance, His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest;
And for my sake hath learn'd to sport and dance,
Scorning his churlish drum, and ensign red;
Thus he that over-ruled, I oversway'd, Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain:
Strong-temper'd steel his stronger strength obey'd,
O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,
Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine, (Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red) The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine:What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head:
Look in mine eyeballs; there thy beauty lies:
· Art thou ashamed to kiss? then wink again,
These blue-vein'd violets, whereon we lean,
The tender spring upon thy tempting lip Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted: Make use of time; let not advantage slip:
Beauty within itself should not be wasted:
Fair flowers, that are not gather'd in their prime, Rot and consume themselves in little time.
Were I hard-favor'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, Ill-nurtured, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, O'er-worn, despised, rheumatic and cold, Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice,
Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not
But having no defects, why dost abhor me?
Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow;
Mine eyes are gray, and bright, and quick in
My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow;
My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning: My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt,
Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt.
'Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear;
Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.
'Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie : These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me; Two strengthless doves will draw me through the
From morn to night, even where I list to sport me.
1 What we now call blue eyes, were in Shakspeare's time called gray.