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Venus and Adonis

    Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn:
Sick-thougted Venus makes amain unto him,  5
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.

   «Thrice fairer than myself», thus she began,
«The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;  10
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that world hath ending with thy life.

   Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed  15
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I 'll smother thee with kisses;

   And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,  20
Making them red and pale with fresh variety;
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.»

    With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,  25
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And, trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.  30

    Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,  35
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.

    The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens O, how quick is love!-
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:  40
Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust,
And gobern'd him is strength, though not in lust.

    So soon was she along as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,  45
And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips:
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
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;  50
Then with her windy sight 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,  55
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 chin,
And where she ends she doth anew begin.  60

    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,  65
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,  75
'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,  85
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 fos his pay,
He winks, and turns his pils another way.  90

    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:
«O, pity», gan she cry, «flint-hearted boy!  95
'Tis but a kiss I begg; 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;  100
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,  105
To toy, to wantin, dally, smile and jest;
Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red,
Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.

   Thus he that overruled I overswayed,
Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain:  110
Strong-temper'd steel his stronger strength obeyed,
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-  115
Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red-
The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine:
What see'st thou in the ground? hold up thy head:
Look in mine eyeballs, there thy beauty lies;
Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes?  120

   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  125
Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.

   The tender spring upon thy tempting lip
Shews thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted:
Make use of mine, 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,  135
Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice,
Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee;
But having no defect, why dost abhor me?

   Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow;
Mine eyes are grey 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,  145
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,
Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.  150

   Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie;
These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support 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  155
That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee?

   Is thine own Herat to thine own face affected?
Can thy right land seize love upon thy left?
Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected,
Steal thine own freedom, and complain on theft.  160
Narcissus so himself himself forsook,,
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;  165
Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse:
Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breedeth beauty
Thou wast begot, to get is thy duty.

   Upon the carth's increase why shouldst thou feed,
Unless the earth with thy increase be fed?  170
By law of nature 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,  175
For, where they play, 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.  180

    And now Adonis, with a lazy spright,
And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,
His douring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight,
Like misty vapours when they blot the sky,
Souring his cheeks, «Fie, no more of love!  185
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:  190
I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs;
If they burn too, I 'll quench them with my tears.

   The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm,
And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee:
The heat I have from thence doth little harm,  195
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:  200
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,  205
Or what great danger dwells upon my suit?
What were thy lips the worse for one poor 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.  210

   Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,
Well painted idol, image dull and dead,
Statue contenting but the eye alone,
Thing like a man, but of no woman bred!
Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion,  215
For men will kiss even by their own direction.»

    This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And swelling passion doth provoke a pause;
Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong;
Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause:  220
And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak,
And now her sobs do her intendments break.

    Sometime she shakes her head, and then his hand,
Now gazed she on him, now on the ground;
Sometimes her arms infold him like a band:  225
She would, he will not in her arms be bound;
And when from thence he struggles to be gone,
She locks her lily fingers one in one.

   «Fondling», she said, «since I have hemm'd thee here
Within the circuit of this ivory pale,  230
I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

   Within this limit is relief enough,  235
Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain
Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough,
To shelter thee from tempest and from rain:
Then be my deer, since I am such a park;
No dog small rouse thee, though a thousand bark.»  240

    At this Adonis smiles as in disdain,
That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple:
Love made those hollows, if himself were slain,
He might be buried in a tomb so simple;
Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,  245
Why, there Love lived, and there he could not die.

    These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits,
Open'd their mounths to swallow Venus' liking.
Being mad before, how doth she now for wits?
Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking?  250
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, he object will away  255
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,
A breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud,  260
Adonis' trampling courser doth espy,
And forth rushes, snorts and neighs aloud:
The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree,
Breaketh his rein and to her straight goes he.

    Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,  265
And now his woven girths break's asunder;
The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,
Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder;
The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth,
Controlling what he was controlled with.  270

    His ears up-prick's; his braided hanging mane
Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end;
His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:
His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,  275
Show his hot courage and his high desire.

    Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps,
With gentle majesty and modest pride;
Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps,
As who should say «Lo, thus my strength is tried;  280
And this I do to captivate the eye
Of the fair breeder that is standing by.»

    What recketh he his rider's angry stir,
His flattering «Holla» or his «Stand, I say?»
What cares he now for curb or pricking spur?  285
Fo rich caparisons or trappings gay?
He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,
For nothing else with his proud sight agrees.

    Look, when a painter would surpass the life,
In limning out a well proportion'd steed,  290
His art with nature's workmanship`at strife,
As if the dead the living should exceed;
So did this horse excel a common one
In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.

    Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long  295
Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide,
High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:
Look, what a horse should he did not lack,
Save a proud rider on so proud back.  300

    Sometime he scuds, 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,  305
Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather's wings.

    He looks upon his love and neighs unto her;
She answers him, as if she knew his mind:
Being proud, as female are, to see him woo her,
She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind,  310
Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels,
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:  315
He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume.
His love, perceiving how he was 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,  320
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-strippink crows that strive to over-fly them.

    All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits,  325
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 abidance of the tongue.  330

    An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd,
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,  335
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,  340
Taking no notice that she is so nigh,
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,  345
How white and red each other did destroy!
But now her cheek was pale, and by and by
It flah'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 and dint.

    O, what a war of looks was then between them!  355
he eyes petitioners to his eyes suing;
His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them;
Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd the wooing:
And all this dumb play had his acts made plain
With tears, which chorus-like her eyes did rain.  360

    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,  365
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 west as I am, and I a man,
My heart all whole as thine, thy heart mi 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,  375
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,  380
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 the mare.»

    Thus she replies: «Thy palfrey, as he should,  385
Welcome 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 hath none;
Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.  390

   How like a jade he stood, tied to the tree,
Servilely master'd with a leathern rein!
But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee,
He held such petty bondage in disdain;
Throwing the base thong from his bending crest,  395
Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast.

   Who sees his true-love in her naked bed,
Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,
But, when his glutton eye so full hat fed,
His other agents aim at like delight?  400
Who is so faint, that dares not be so bold
To touch the fire, the weather being cold?

   Let me excuse thy couser, gentle boy;
And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee,
To take advantage on presented joy;  405
Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee:
O, learn to love; the lesson is but plain,
And once made perfect, never lost again.»

   «I know not love», quoth he, «nor will not know it,
Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it;  410
'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it;
My love to love is love but to disgrace it;
For I have heard it is a life in death,
That laughs, and weeps, and all but with a breath.

   Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd?  415
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?
If springing things be any jot diminish'd
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth:
The colt that's back's and burthen'd being young
Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong.  420

   You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part,
And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat:
Remove your siege from my unyielding heart;
To love's alarms it will not ope the gate:
Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery;  425
For where a heart is hard they make no battery.»

   «What! canst thou talk?» quoth she, «hast thou a tongue?
O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing!
Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong;
I had my load before, now press'd with bearing:  430
Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh-sounding,
Ear's deep-sweet music,and heart's deep-sore wounding.

   Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love
That inward beauty and invisible;
Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move  435
Each part in me that were but sensible:
Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,
Yet should I be in love by touching thee.

   Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me,
And that I could not see, no hear, nor touch,  440
And nothing but the very smell were left me,
Yet would my love to thee be still is much;
For from the stillitory of thy face excelling
Comes breath perfumed, that breedeth lobe by smelling.

   But, O, what banquet wert thou to the taste,  445
Being nurse and feeder of the other four!
Would they not wish the feast might ever last,
And bid Suspicion double-lock the door,
Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,
Should by his stealing in disturb the feast?»  450

    Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd,
Which to his speech did honey pasaje yield;
Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd
Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field,
Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,  455
Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.

    This ill presage advisedly she marketh:
Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth,
Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh,
Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,  460
Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,
His meaning struck her ere his words begun.

    And at his look she flatly falleth down,
For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth:
A smiles recurs the wounding of a frown;  465
But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth!
The silly boy, believing she is dead,
Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red;

    And all amazed brake off his late intent,
For sharply he did think to reprehend her,  470
Which cunning love did wittily prevent:
Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her!
For on the grass she lies as she were slain,
Till his breath breatheth life in her again.

    He wrings her nose, he strokes her on the cheeks,  475
He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard,
He hafes 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.  480

    The night of sorrow nows is turn'd to day:
Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth,
Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array
He cheers the morn, and all the earth relieveth:
And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,  485
So is her face illumined with her eye;

    Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd,
As if from thence they borrowed all their shine.
Were never four such lamps together mix'd,
Had not his clouded with his brow's repine;  490
But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light,
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?
What hour is this? or morn or weary even?  495
Do I delight to die, or life desire?
But now I lived, and life was death's annoy:
But now I dies, and death was lively joy.

   O, thou didst kill me: kill me once again:
Thy eyes» shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine,  500
Hath taught them scornful triks, 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!  505
O, never let their crimson liveries wear!
And as they last, their verdure still endure,
To drive infection from the dangerous year!
That the star-gazers, having writ on death,
May say, the plague is banish'd by thy breath.  510

   Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted,
What bargains may I make, still to be sealing?
To sell myself I can be well contented,
So thou wilt buy, and pay, and use good dealing;
Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips  515
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?  520
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;  525
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;  530
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;  535
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.  540

    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,  545
Their lips together glued, fall to the earth.

    Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey,
And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filled;
Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,
Paying what ransom the insulter willeth;  550
Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high,
That she will draw is lips rich treasure dry.

    And having felt the sweetness of the spoil,
With blindfold fury she begins to forage;
Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil,  555
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,  560
Or as the fleet-foot roe that's tired with chasing,
Or like the forward infant still's 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,  565
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 forward.  570

    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,  575
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:
She is resolved no longer to restrain him;
Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart,  580
The which, by Cupid's bow she doth protest,
He caries thence incaged in his breast.

   «Sweet boy», she says, «this night I'll waste in sorrow,
For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch.
Tell me, love's master, shall we meet to-morrow?  585
Say, shall 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 she: whereat a sudden pale,
Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose,  590
Usurps her cheek; she trembles at his tale,
And on his neck her yoking arms she throws:
She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck,
He on her belly falls, she on her back.

    Now is she in the very lists of love,  595
Her champion mounted for the hot encounter:
All is imaginary she doth prove,
He will not manage her, although he mount her;
That worse than Tantalus' is her annoy,
To clip Elysium, and to lack her joy.  600

    Even so poor birds, deceived with painted grapes,
Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw,
Even so she languisheth in her mishaps
As those poor birds that helpless berries saw.
The warm effects which she in him finds missing  605
She seeks to kindle with continual kissing.

    But all in vain; good queen, it will not be:
She hath assay'd as much as may be proved;
Her pleading hath deserved a greater fee;
She' Love, she loves, and yet she is not loved.  610
«Fie, fie», he says, «you crush me; let me go;
You have no reason to withhold me so.»

   «Thou hadst been gone», quoth she, «sweet boy, ere this,
But that thou told'st me thou woulds hunt the boar.
O, be advised: thou know's not what it is  615
With jabalin's point a churlish swine to gore,
Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still,
Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill.

   On his bow-back he hath a battle set
Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;  620
His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret;
His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes;
Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way,
And whom he strikes his crooked tushes slay.

   His brawny sides, with hairy bristles armed,  625
Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;
His short thick neck cannot be easily harmed;
Being ireful, on the lion he will venture:
The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,
As fearful of him, part; through whom he rushes.  630

   Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,
To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes;
Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne,
Whose full perfection all the world amazes;
But having thee at vantage wondrous dread!-  635
Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.

   O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still;
Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends:
Come not within his danger by thy will;
They that thrive well take counsel of their friends.  640
When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,
I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.

   Didst thou not mark my face? was it not white?
Saw'st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye?
Grew I not faint? and fell I not downright?  645
Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie,
My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest,
But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast.
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