Song to Celia
Come my Celia, let us
prove,
While wee may, the sports of love ;
Time will not be ours for ever :
He, at length, our good will sever.
Spend not then his gifts in vaine.
Sunnes that set, may rise againe:
But, if once wee lose this light,
'Tis, with us, perpetuall night.
Why should we deferre our joyes?
Fame, and rumor are but toyes.
Cannot we delude the eyes
Of a few poore houshold spyes?
Or his easier eares beguile,
So removed by our wile?
'Tis no sinne, loves fruits to steale,
But the sweet theft to reveale:
To bee taken, to be seene,
These have crimes accounted beene.
To the same Kiss me, Sweet : the wary lover
Can your favours keep, and cover,
When the common courting jay
All your bounties will betray.
Kiss again : no creature comes.
Kiss, and score up wealthy sums
On my lips, thus hardly sundred,
While you breate. First give a hundred,
Then a thousand, then another
Hundred, then unto the t'other
Add a thousand, and so more :
Till you equal with the store,
All the grass that Rumney yields,
Or the sands in Chelsea fields,
Or the drops in silver Thames,
Or the stars that gild his streams,
In the silent Summer-nights,
When youths ply their stol'n delights ;
That the curious may not know
How to tell 'em as they flow,
And the envious, when they find
What their number is, be pined.
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