Or have smelt o' the bud of the briar? Or have tasted the bag of the bee? O, so white! O, so soft! O, so sweet is she! BEN JONSON TO CELIA 1 DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise, But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I sent thee late a rosy wreath, It could not wither'd be ; But thou thereon didst only breathe, And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, BEN JONSON Он SONG 2 H do not wanton with those eyes, Nor cast them down, but let them rise, 1 The Ninth Song in The Forest. Oh be not angry with those fires, Oh do not steep them in thy tears, BEN JONSON FOR BEGGING ANOTHER1 OR Love's sake, kiss me once again! Why do you doubt or stay? I'll taste as lightly as the bee, That doth but touch his flower, and flies away. Once more, and, faith, I will be gone, Can he that loves ask less than one? Nay, you may err in this, And all your bounty wrong: This could be call'd but half a kiss ; I will but mend the last, and tell Where, how, it would have relish'd well ; Join lip to lip, and try : Each suck the other's breath, And whilst our tongues perplexed lie, Let who will think us dead, or wish our death. From Underwoods. BEN JONSON HIS EXCUSE FOR LOVING1 LET it not your wonder move, Less your laughter, that I love, THE DREAM BEN JONSON DEAR love, for nothing less than thee Would I have broke this happy dream; For reason, much too strong for fantasy. 1 From Underwoods. Therefore thou waked'st me wisely; yet My dream thou brokest not, but continued'st it. As lightning, or a taper's light, Thine eyes, and not thy noise waked me; -For thou lovest truth-an angel, at first sight; And knew'st my thoughts beyond an angel's art, when Excess of joy would wake me, and camest then, I must confess, it could not choose but be Profane, to think thee anything but thee. Coming and staying show'd thee, thee, That love is weak where fear's as strong as he; If mixture it of fear, shame, honour have ; THE MESSAGE END home my long-stray'd eyes to me, Yet since there they have learn'd such ill, Such forced fashions, And false passions, That they be Made by thee Fit for no good sight, keep them still. Send home my harmless heart again, Which no unworthy thought could stain To make jestings Of protestings, And break both Word and oath, Keep it, for then 'tis none of mine. Yet send me back my heart and eyes, And dost languish For some one That will none, Or prove as false as thou art now. ; SONG thee ; JOHN DONNE |