University of Virginia Library


109

XVIII.

[Come, you pretty false-ey'd wanton]

Come, you pretty false-ey'd wanton,
Leave your crafty smiling:
Thinke you to escape me now
With slipp'ry words beguiling?
No; you mock't me th'other day,
When you got loose, you fled away;
But, since I have caught you now,
Ile clip your wings for flying:
Smothring kisses fast Ile heape,
And keepe you so from crying.
Sooner may you count the starres,
And number hayle downe pouring,
Tell the Osiers of the Temmes,
Or Goodwins Sands devouring,
Then the thicke-showr'd kisses here
Which now thy tyred lips must beare.
Such a harvest never was,
So rich and full of pleasure,
But 'tis spent as soone as reapt,
So trustlesse is loves treasure.
Would it were dumb midnight now,
When all the world lyes sleeping:
Would this place some Desert were,
Which no man hath in keeping.

110

My desires should then be safe,
And when you cry'd then would I laugh;
But if ought might breed offence,
Love onely should be blamed:
I would live your servant still,
And you my Saint unnamed.