Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips 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? 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; 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; 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; 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. 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, Their lips together glu'd, fall to the earth. Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey, And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth; Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey, Paying what ransom the insulter willeth; Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high, That she will draw his 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, 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 tam'd with too much handling, Or as the fleet-foot roe that's tir'd with chasing, Or like the froward infant still'd 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, 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-fac'd coward, But then woos best when most his choice is froward. 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, 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 resolv'd no longer to restrain him, Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart, The which, by Cupid's bow she doth protest, He carries 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? Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match?' He tells her, no; to-morrow he intends To hunt the boar with certain of his friends.
