 | Pastorals |  |
So Paplet, softest Paplet, as she said,
Her sweer-dew Lips on Soflies Bosom laid.
Soflin.
No help, I ween; what will be, best let be.
But bad in thee, my Chick, more bad in me.
Paplet.
Yet Striplin Cheek look pretty so, meweet;
(All as the Rose in bed of Lillys set.)
For Florrey late to the great-town ha' been;
But oh, when first me saw, how blush'd the Swain!
Cause why; the sweetlip boy then cast to kiss;
Yet say me soft, be that so much amiss?
Soflin.
Paplet.
Why 'shamed? I would ha' stroak'd 'em off his Face:
And sooth now so, had'st felt how soft it was!
Oh pleasant! how you've lived! Didest not tho'
Out's Bosom take his Locks, when in did blow?
Do let me lye A-Lea with ye, now wo't?
For oft ye setten so, Lass, do ye not.
Soflin.
This Morn sweet sate we 'neath this sweet May-bough;
Ye Kentish Swains, no softer seat ye know!
The Flowers suck'd Honey-dew (O dainty draught!)
Soft for the Bees to sip that sip so soft.
Under my head a hand fair laid the Boy;
Then sinking down yclosen sleepie Eye.
Paplet.
Ay? say'st in sooth? and then—why dost not say?
Was it not lovely, when so loose he lay?
Meseems I should ha' pleased with tender Tongue
Or sooth'd, the while, with softness of a Song.
Her sweer-dew Lips on Soflies Bosom laid.
Soflin.
No help, I ween; what will be, best let be.
But bad in thee, my Chick, more bad in me.
25
Yet Striplin Cheek look pretty so, meweet;
(All as the Rose in bed of Lillys set.)
For Florrey late to the great-town ha' been;
But oh, when first me saw, how blush'd the Swain!
Cause why; the sweetlip boy then cast to kiss;
Yet say me soft, be that so much amiss?
Soflin.
If be but why, small harm ybe I weet.
Colly and I late roved, Nuts to get.
I witless was so bonny and so brag,
(Paplet beware not be with Love so wag)
I scratchen Chin; ah luckless Lass the when!
See here but, Paplet! I all scratch'd my Chin!
The Wound he wiped, and kist it 'ore and 'ore;
Why sooth now, Paplet, else 'twould been a sore.
Colly and I late roved, Nuts to get.
I witless was so bonny and so brag,
(Paplet beware not be with Love so wag)
I scratchen Chin; ah luckless Lass the when!
See here but, Paplet! I all scratch'd my Chin!
The Wound he wiped, and kist it 'ore and 'ore;
Why sooth now, Paplet, else 'twould been a sore.
Whatso I could to bar my blush, I did;
Yet ween not whether somedeal look'd not red.
But 'twas all for his Eyes so soft did seem:
While Honeybreath epon my Neck would steam.
And oh, his ringlet-locks too, where they fell
Tittled my breasts! and I was 'shamed to tell.
Yet ween not whether somedeal look'd not red.
26
While Honeybreath epon my Neck would steam.
And oh, his ringlet-locks too, where they fell
Tittled my breasts! and I was 'shamed to tell.
Paplet.
Why 'shamed? I would ha' stroak'd 'em off his Face:
And sooth now so, had'st felt how soft it was!
Oh pleasant! how you've lived! Didest not tho'
Out's Bosom take his Locks, when in did blow?
Do let me lye A-Lea with ye, now wo't?
For oft ye setten so, Lass, do ye not.
Soflin.
This Morn sweet sate we 'neath this sweet May-bough;
Ye Kentish Swains, no softer seat ye know!
The Flowers suck'd Honey-dew (O dainty draught!)
Soft for the Bees to sip that sip so soft.
27
Then sinking down yclosen sleepie Eye.
Paplet.
Ay? say'st in sooth? and then—why dost not say?
Was it not lovely, when so loose he lay?
Meseems I should ha' pleased with tender Tongue
Or sooth'd, the while, with softness of a Song.
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