54. The Souldier and his Mistress.
So.
Hark, hark (my Paragon) the trumpet sounds
The foaming horse come prancing o're the grounds
The noise of battel in my ear rebounds.
2
Arm, arm, brave Hectors, the Centurions cry,
Advance, advance your weapons or you die;
Which horrid noise will break our Sympathy.
Mist.
No, no, it needs not, shall the horrid swarms
Of men and horse allure thee by their charms,
To leave my fleshly for thy martial arms?
4
Cling closer then, for thou shalt not depart
From me this night in person, or in heart;
Arm not, for thou in arms already art:
5
And th' art engag'd unto the harmless fight
Of wanton Cupid, where (this following night)
We'l both be conquer'd, with delight.
6
Our smiles shall be our arrows, and our eyes
Are Stratagems, sufficient to surprize
Thoughts of dissention and Antipathies.
7
Each blow will beg another, and 't will ease us;
Such contestations cannot chuse but please us:
And such a quarrel greatly will appease us.
8
Brave war and harmless! oh who would deny
To be a souldier in't? who would not die
In such a battel, such artillery?
Sold.
I, but I dare not; if my Captain find
Me in your quarters, no excuse will blind
His rigid sentence, and his furious mind.
Mist.
There's none shall find thee, for I'le vail thy face
And body too, with the embroidered case
Of my rich blanket, where we will embrace.
11
My smock shall shroud thee, & my hand shall guide thee
From whatsoe're disaster shall betide thee,
Ith' bushes on my belly I will hide thee.
12
Or if he find thee, I will answer than,
That he is arm'd (let him say what he can)
To ruine mortals, thou to make a man.
