• 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 overruled I overswayed, O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thineThough 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, These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean The tender spring upon thy tempting lip Beauty within itself should not be wasted: Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime 130 "Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee; 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, 'Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, Love is a spirit all compact of fire, 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 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? 150 'Is thine own heart to thine own face affected? And died to kiss his shadow in the brook. 160 Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breedeth beauty; Upon the earth's increase why shouldst thou feed, 170 By this, the love-sick queen began to sweat, Wishing Adonis had his team to guide, And now Adonis, with a lazy spright, Souring his cheeks, cries, Fie, no more of love! Ay me,' quoth Venus, young, and so unkind! 180 190 I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs; |