SONG XXIV.
[Come Kiss me (sweet) let's banquet on delight!]
1
Come
Kiss me (sweet) let's banquet on delight!
And teach Love, how to surfet! Kiss agen!
You must spend free, to sate his Appetite
Nay be no niggard! what is nine or ten?
Love soon digests these (should you thousands score)
And only, whets his stomach, still, for more.
2
I'le tast those Apples in thine Autumn cheek,
The cherries, of thy Lips, suffice not me:
Those are not single Dainties, Love doth seek
I mean to ravish all the sweets of thee:
The Tast, to other sences can't dispence;
I must have sweets, for every sweet of sence.
3
I'le Touch, those downy hills, where Love with's Bow,
Lyes, in the vally on a bed of spice,
O're which my busie hand, shall wandring go,
And search out Cupit, lurkt in's Paradice:
Thence, to thy Bower of Hony suckles where,
Venus, shall Court, my stay, to bath with Her.
4
Then shall I smel, sent from those Lips of thine,
A scent more sweet, then sally'd from the Trees.
Of Balme, in Eden; kindlier breath'd, on mine,
Then winds, which whistle Phænix Exequies:
Or Frankincense for Jove, that's gently sweat,
From all your Beauties, through a virtual heat.
5
Now, will I hear, by thine harmonious voice
Such moving accents, as might teach the Sphears,
A choicer Musick and whose powerful noice
Perforce, acts Raps, on Hearts and Charms all Ears:
Which, when't hath turn'd us stones, it then can do,
As Orpheus did, and make us Dancers, too.
6
Then will I fix mine Eyes, on thee (my dear)
And nayle them, to thy Beauties; let thine Eye,
Dart all the shafts of Cupid, I'le not fear,
But stand thy mark: 'twere happy so to Dye!
Whereon, could I but gaze, my death, to see
I'de be Enamored, of Mortality.
7
But say (Dear Heart!) can Love, be sated so
'Tis true, the sences, thus, are singly pleas'd,
But to feast him, alas! 'twill nothing do!
A greedy Lovers hunger ne're is eas'd:
Since then, for all sweets, Love, at once, doth call
Give me not these alone, but give me all.
