Page 2236 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Never did passenger in summer’s heat
More thirst for drink than she for this good turn.
Her help she sees, but help she cannot get;
She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn.

«Oh pity», ’gan she cry, «flint-hearted boy, [95]
’Tis but a kiss I beg, why art thou coy?

«I have been woo’d as I entreat thee now,
Even by the stern and direful god of war,

Whose sinewy neck in battle ne’er did bow,
Who conquers where he comes in every jar; [100]
Yet hath he been my captive and my slave,
And begg’d for that which thou unask’d shalt have.

«Over my altars hath he hung his lance,

His batter’d shield, his uncontrolled crest;
And for my sake hath learn’d to sport and dance, [105]
To toy, to wanton, dally, smile and jest,
Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red,
Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.

«Thus he that overrul’d I oversway’d,
Leading him prisoner in a red rose chain: [110]
Strong-temper’d steel his stronger strength obey’d,
Yet was he servile to my coy disdain.

Oh be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,
For mast’ring her that foil’d the god of fight!

«Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine − [115]
Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red −
The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine.

What see’st thou in the ground? hold up thy head,
Look in mine eye-balls, there thy beauty lies:
Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes? [120]

«Art thou asham’d to kiss? then wink again,
And I will wink; so shall the day seem night.