Page 2250 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace;
Incorporate then they seem, face grows to face. [540]

Till breathless he disjoin’d, and backward drew
The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,
Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew,

Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drouth.
He with her plenty press’d, she faint with dearth, [545]
Their lips together glued, fall to the earth.

Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey,
And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth.

Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,
Paying what ransom the insulter willeth; [550]
Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high

That she will draw his lips’ rich treasure dry.

And having felt the sweetness of the spoil,
With blindfold fury she begins to forage;
Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil, [555]
And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage,

Planting oblivion, beating reason back,
Forgetting shame’s pure blush and honour’s wrack.

Hot, faint and weary with her hard embracing,
Like a wild bird being tam’d with too much handling, [560]
Or as the fleet-foot roe that’s tir’d with chasing,

Or like the froward infant still’d with dandling:
He now obeys, and now no more resisteth,
While she takes all she can, not all she listeth.

What wax so frozen but dissolves with temp’ring, [565]

And yields at last to very light impression?
Things out of hope are compass’d oft with vent’ring,
Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission:
Affection faints not like a pale-fac’d coward,
But then woos best when most his choice is froward. [570]