Page:Shakespeare Collection of Poems.djvu/38

Good night (quoth she) and ere he says adieu,
The hony fee of parting tendred is;
⁠Her arms do lend his neck a sweet imbrace,
⁠Incorporate then they seem, face grows to face.

Till breathless he dis-joyn'd, and backward drew
The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,
Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew,
Whereon they surfet, yet complain on drouth,
⁠He with her plenty prest, she faint with dearth,
⁠Their lips together glew'd fall to the earth.

Now quick desire hath caught her yielding prey,
And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth,
Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,
Paying what ransom the insulter willeth;
⁠Whose vultur thought doth pitch the price so hie,
⁠That she will draw his lips rich treasure dry.

And having felt the sweetness of the spoil,
With blind-fold fury she begins to forrage,
Her face doth reek and smoak, her bloud doth boyl,
And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage:
⁠Planting oblivion, beating reason back,
⁠Forgetting shames pure blush, and honours wrack.

Hot, faint and weary, with her hard embracing,
Like a wild bird being tam'd with too much handling,
Or as the fleet-foot Roe, that's tir'd with chasing,
Or like the froward Infant still'd with dandling.

He