But straightway shut their dim and dazled eine. No maruell then, though in great extasie His spirits are, at glittring maiestie. She feares the worst, and to her Louer skips, Claps his plumpe cheeks, and beats his corall lips, And seeing him fall breathlesse to the earth, She seeks with kisses to inspire his breath. At last his eye-lids he vp heaues againe, And feeling her sweet kisses, gins to faine; Shuts his bright eyes, and stops his rosie breath, And for her kisses counterfeits his death. With that poore _Licia_ both her hands vpholds, And those let fall, her wofull armes enfolds, With cast vp eyes in labour with her teares, Which ioy did weep for woe to leaue those spheares Which downe her face made paths vnto her necke, And setling there shewd like a carquenet; Anon she teares her haire, away it flings, Which twining on her fingers shewd like rings; Then she assayes to speake, but sighs and teares Eats vp her words and multiplies her feares. Why wert thou borne (quoth she) to die so soone, And leaue the world poore of perfection; Or why did high heauen frame thee such a creature, So soone to perish: o selfe-hurting Nature, Why didst thou suffer death to steale him hence, Who was thy glory and thy excellence. What are the Roses red, now he is gone, But like the broke sparks of a diamond, Whose scattred pieces shadow to the eye What the whole was, and adde to miserie? Such this faire casket of a fairer iem, Whose beautie matchlesse now, what was it then When that his precious breath gaue life and sent To those dead flowers whose feruor now is spent? O starueling Death, thou ruiner of Kings, Thou foe to youth and beautie-sealed things, Thou friend to none but sepulchers and graues, High reared monuments, lasting Epitaphs, Poore Clearks & Sextons, and some thriftlesse heires, Depriued Priests, and a few Courtiers, Who hauing liuings in reuersion, Do dayly pray for quicke possession; Who had offended thee, that blinde with rage Thou strookst at him, for whom succeeding age Will curse thy bones? Physitians be thy baine, And chase thee hence to lowest hell againe. He hearing this, from pleasing death reuiues, And drunke those teeres from her immortall eies, Which drop by drop sought other to displace, That each might kisse that sweet and daintie face. Nor doth the Soueraigne of heauens golden fires, After a storme so answer mens desires, When with a smiling countenance he orelooks The flowrie fields and siluer streaming brooks, As _Licia_ in his life was comforted, Whom new before she thought for to be dead: She locks her fingers in his crisped haire, And pulles it out at length, which leauing there, The haire bands backe at it for ioy had leapt, To be a prisoner to hand so white: And then she stroaks his alabaster skin, And chucks the boy on his immortall chin, Glassing herselfe within his matchlesse eyes,