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"For there his smell with others being mingled, The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt, Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;
Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies, As if another chase were in the skies.
"By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,
"Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch
"Lie quietly, and hear a little more;
"Where did I leave?"-"No matter where," quoth he;
"Leave me, and then the story aptly ends: The night is spent."-"Why, what of that?" quoth she.
"I am," quoth he, "expected of my friends; And now 'tis dark, and going I shall fall." "In night," quoth she, "desire sees best of all.
"But if thou fall, O, then imagine this,
Rich preys make true men thieves; so do thy lips
Lest she should steal a kiss, and die forsworn.
"Now of this dark night I perceive the reason: Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine, Till forging Nature be condemn'd of treason, For stealing moulds from heaven that were divine, Wherein she framed thee in high heaven's despite,
To shame the sun by day, and her by night.
"And therefore hath she bribed the Destinies,
Of mad mischances and much misery;
"As burning fevers, agues pale and faint, Life-poisoning pestilence, and frenzies wood, The marrow-eating sickness, whose attaint Disorder breeds by heating of the blood: Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn'd despair,
Swear Nature's death for framing thee so fair.
"And not the least of all these maladies,
"Therefore, despite of fruitless chastity,
"What is thy body but a swallowing grave,
Which by the rights of time thou needs must have,
If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity?
"So in thyself thyself art made away;
Or butcher-sire, that reaves his son of life.
“Nay, then,” quoth Adon, "you will fall again
Into your idle over-handled theme;
The kiss I gave you is bestow'd in vain,
And all in vain you strive against the stream; For by this black-faced night, desire's foul
Your treatise makes me like you worse and
"If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues, And every tongue more moving than your
Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's songs, Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown ; For know, my heart stands armed in mine
And will not let a false sound enter there;
"Lest the deceiving harmony should run
And then my little heart were quite undone,
No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan,
"What have you urged that I cannot reprove?
"Call it not love, for Love to heaven is fled, Since sweating Lust on earth usurp'd his name; Under whose simple semblance he hath fed Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame; Which the hot tyrant stains, and soon bereaves, As caterpillars do the tender leaves.
"Love comforteth like sunshine after rain,
"More I could tell, but more I dare not say;
Therefore, in sadness, now I will away;
With this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast,
And homeward through the dark laund runs apace;
Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd. Look, how a bright star shooteth from the sky,
So glides he in the night from Venus' eye;
Which after him she darts, as one on shore
Till the wild waves will have him seen no more,
Whereat amazed, as one that unaware
And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans, That all the neighbour-caves, as seeming troubled, Make verbal repetition of her moans;
Passion on passion deeply is redoubled:
"Ah me!" she cries, and twenty times, "Woe, woe!"
And twenty echoes twenty times cry so.