"If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues, "And every tongue more moving than your own, "Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's songs, "Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown; For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear, "And will not let a false sound enter there; 66 "Lest the deceiving harmony should run "No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan, "What have you urg'd that I cannot reprove? "The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger; "I hate not love, but your device in love, "That lends embracements unto every stranger. You do it for increase; O strange excuse! "When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse. " "Call it not love, for love to heaven is fled, "Since sweating lust on earth usurp'd his name: "Under whose simple semblance he hath fed "Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame; Which the hot tyrant stains, and soon be "As caterpillars do the tender leaves. [reaves, "Love comforteth, like sunshine after rain, "But lust's effect is tempest after sun; Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, "Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done. Love surfeits not; lust like a glutton dies: "Love is all truth; lust full of forged lies. "More I could tell, but more I dare not say; "The text is old, the orator too green "Therefore, in sadness, now I will away; "My face is full of shame, my heart of teen; "Mine cars that to your wanton talk attended, Do burn themselves for having so offended." 34 With this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast, And homeward through the dark lawnd runs apace; 85 Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd. Look how a bright star shooteth from the sky, So glides he in the night from Venus' eye; Which after him she darts, as one on shore Till the wild waves will have him seen no more, Whereat amaz'd, as one that unaware 34 teenli. e grief. 35 lawnd] An old form of lawn. Or 'stonish'd as night-wanderers often are, And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans, Passion on passion deeply is redoubled: Ah me! she cries, and twenty times, woe, woe! [dote; She marking them, begins a wailing note, Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, Her song was tedious, and outwore the night, For who hath she to spend the night withal, ་ She says, 'tis so: they answer all, 'tis so; Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest, Who doth the world so gloriously behold, That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold. Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow: "O thou clear god, and patron of all light, "From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow "The beauteous influence that makes him bright, "There lives a son, that suck'd an earthly mother, "May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other." This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove, And all in haste she coasteth to the cry. And as she runs, the bushes in the way Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face, Some twine about her thigh to make her stay; 36 coasteth] i. e advanceth. She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace, Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ache, Hasting to feed her fawn, hid in some brake. By this, she hears the hounds are at a bay, Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder Wreath'd up in fatal folds, just in his way, The fear whereof doth make him shake and shud der; Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds Appals her senses, and her spirit confounds. For now she knows it is no gentle chase, They all strain court'sy who shall cope him first. This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear, Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy; |