44. The Protest.
1
Lady, let not a tear trickle down or appear
In your eye,
To conceive I should leave
My affecting of you till I die.
2
May the Bell never toll as a foy to my soul
When it flies
From its urn, to return
To the place whence it came, o're the skies.
3
May the Sun never shine on this forehead of mine
VVhile I breath,
If that I e're deny
To adore and to love thee till death.
4
May the horrible itch, or the ghost of a witch
Torture me
If I prove to remove
My engagements (fair Lady) from thee.
5
But why should I speak, that have no force to break
My design?
For as well may I sell
My own life, as forbear to be thine.
6
Can the water remove from beneath to above
VVithout art?
No, you know it cannot so.
No more can I alter my heart.
7
Can the day light go out, while the Sun goes about
In the Sphear?
No, you know't cannot so:
No more can my zeal to my Dear.
8
Th' art Queen of my soul, and hast force to controul
Each decree:
For alas! even as
Steel to the Loadstone, so I am to thee.
9
Since then there's no force can divide or divorce
Us in twain,
Throw aside peevish pride,
While I kiss thee again and again.
10
Let us wantonly play, kiss and clip while we may,
Without scorn;
For if we merry be
Over night, I'le not leave thee i'th' morn.
