He burns with bashful shame: she with her

tears

Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;
Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs
To fan and blow them dry again she seeks:
He saith she is immodest, blames her 'miss;
What follows more she murders with a kiss

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 kissed his brow, his cheek, his

chin,

And where she ends she doth anew begin. Forced to content, but never to obey, Panting he lies and breatheth in her face; She feedeth on the steam as on a prey, And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace; Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers,

So they were dew'd with such distilling
showers.

Look, how a bird lies tangled in a net,
So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies;
Pure shame and awed resistance made him fret,
Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes: 70
Rain added to a river that is rank
Perforce will force it overflow the bank.

Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,
For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale;
Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets,
"Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale:
Being red, she loves him best; and being
white,

Her best is better'd with a more delight.

Look how he can, she cannot choose but love;
And by her fair immortal hand she swears, 80
From his soft bosom never to remove,
Till he take truce with her contending tears,
Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks

all wet;

And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.

Upon this promise did he raise his chin,
Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave,
Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in;
So offers he to give what she did crave;

But when her lips were ready for his pay,
He winks, and turns his lips another way. 90

Never did passenger in summer's heat

'O, pity,' 'gan she cry, 'flint-hearted boy! 'Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy?

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 To toy, to wanton, dally, smile and jest, dance,

Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red, Making my arms his field, his tent my bed. 'Thus he that overruled I oversway'd, Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain: 110 Strong-tempered steel his stronger strength obey'd,

Yet was he servile to my coy disdain.

O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, For mastering her that foil'd the god of fight!

Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine,

Though mine be not so fair, yet are they redThe kiss shall be thine own as well as mine. What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head:

Look in mine eye-balls, there thy beauty lies;

Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes?

Art thou ashamed to kiss? then wink again, And I will wink; so shall the day seem night; Love keeps his revels where there are but twain;

Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight:

These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean
Never can blab, nor know not what we

Make use of time, let not advantage slip; Beauty within itself should not be wasted: 130 Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime

Rot and consume themselves in little time.

Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, Ill-nurtured, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, O'erworn, despised, rheumatic and cold,

turn.

Her help she sees, but help she cannot get; She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn:

Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee;

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 turning; 140

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,
Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green,
Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair,
Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen:
Love is a spirit all compact of fire,

And now Adonis, with a lazy spright,
And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,
His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight,
Like misty vapours when they blot the sky,
Souring his cheeks cries 'Fie, no more of
love!

The sun doth burn my face; I must remove.

Ay me,' quoth Venus, 'young, and so unkind? What bare excuses makest thou to be gone! I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind Shall cool the heat of this descending sun: I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs: If they burn too, I'll quench them with my

tears.

port me;

Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky,

From morn till night, even where I list to sport me:

Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee?

'Is thine own heart to thine own face affected? Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left? Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected, Steal thine own freedom and complain on theft. Narcissus so himself himself forsook, 161 And died to kiss his shadow in the brook.

"Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear; Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse:

Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breedeth beauty;

Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty.

'Upon the earth's increase why shouldst thou feed,

Unless the earth with thy increase be fed?
By law of naturé thou art bound to breed,
That thine may live when thou thyself art
dead;

And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive,
In that thy likeness still is left alive.'

By this the love-sick queen began to sweat, For where they lay the shadow had forsook them,

And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat,
With burning eye did hotly overlook them;
Wishing Adonis had his team to guide,
So he were like him and by Venus' side.

warm,

And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee: The heat I have from thence doth little harm, Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me; And were I not immortal, life were done Between this heavenly and earthly sun.

'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 shouldst contemn me this?

Or what great danger dwells upon my suit? What were thy lips the worse for one pocr kiss? Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be

mute:

Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again, And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain.

'Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone, Well-painted idol, image dull and dead, Think like a man, but of no woman bred! Statue contenting but the eye alone, Thou art no man, though of a man's com plexion,

For men will kiss even by their own direc tion.'

This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,

And swelling passion doth provoke a pause; Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her

Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn,

To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn!

Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say?

Her words are done, her woes the more increasing;

The time is spent, her object will away,
And from her twining arms doth urge releasing.
'Pity,' she cries, 'some favour, some remorse!'
Away he springs and hasteth to his horse.

But, lo, from forth a copse that neighbours by,
breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud,
donis' trampling courser doth espy,
And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud:
The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a

Sometime he scuds far off and there he stares;
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;
To bid the wind a base he now prepares,
And whether he run or fly they know not
whether;

For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,

Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings.

He looks upon his love and neighs unto her; She answers him as if she knew his mind: Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her, She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind, Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels, 311 Beating his kind embracements with her heels.

Then, like a melancholy malcontent,
He vails his tail that, like a falling plume,
Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent:
He stamps and bites the poor flies in his fume.
His love, perceiving how he is enraged,
Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged.
His testy master goeth about to take him;
When, lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear,
Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him,
With her the horse, and left Adonis there:
As they were mad, unto the wood they hie
them,

Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them.

All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits,
Banning his boisterous and unruly beast:
And now the happy season once more fits,
That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest;

For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.

An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd, 331
Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage:
So of concealed sorrow may be said;
Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage;

But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.

He sees her coming, and begins to glow,
Even as a dying coal revives with wind,
And with his bonnet hides his angry brow;
Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind,
Taking no notice that she is so nigh, 341
For all askance he holds her in his eye.

O, what a sight it was, wistly to view
How she came stealing to the wayward boy!
To note the fighting conflict of her hue,
How white and red each other did destroy!

But now her cheek was pale, and by and by It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky.

Now was she just before him as he sat,
And like a lowly lover down she kneels; 350
With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat,
Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels:

His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand's
print,

As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint.

Full gently now she takes him by the hand,
A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow,
Or ivory in an alabaster band;
So white a friend engirts so white a foe:
This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
Show'd like two silver doves that sit a-billing.

Once more the engine of her thoughts began: 'O fairest mover on this mortal round, Would thou wert as I am, and I a man, My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound; 370 For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee,

Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee.'

'Give me my hand,' saith he, 'why dost thou

feel it?'

Give me my heart,' saith she, ‘and thou shalt have it;

O, give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it, And being steel'd, soft sighs can never grave it: Then love's deep groans I never shall regard,

Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.' 'For shame,' he cries, 'let go, and let me go; My day's delight is past, my horse is gone, And 'tis your fault I am bereft him so: I pray you hence, and leave me here alone: For all my mind, my thought, my busy care. Is how to get my palfrey from the mare. Thus she replies: "Thy palfrey, as he should Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire: Affection is a coal that must be cool'd; Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire: The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hat: