And lo indeed, the purple hangings drawne, In came faire _Hiren_ in her night attire, In a silke mantle, and a smocke of lawne, Her haire at length, the beams of sweete desire) Her breasts all naked, o inchanting fire! And siluer buskins on her feet she wore, Though all the floore with Carpet-worke was strawn Yet were such feet too good to tread that floore. 34 Now _Mahomet_ bethinke thee what is best, Said she, compell me I will speake thy shame, And tell thy hatefull fact, at euery feast, Singers in balads shall berime thy name, And for dishonoring me spot thy faire fame: But if--: No more chast maid said _Mahomet_: Though in thy grant consists all ioy and rest, I will not force thee, till thou giue me it. 35 But say I languish, faint, and grow forlorne, Fall sicke, and mourne: nay, pine away for thee, Wouldst then for euer hold me yet in scorne? Forbid my hopes, the comfort that should be In hopes in doating hopes which tire on me: O be not as some women be, for fashion, Like sun-shine daies in clouds of raine stil borne, The more you'l loue, the more shall grow my passion. 36 And then he clasp'd her frosty hand in his, An orient pearle betwixt two mother shels, And seal'd thereon a hearty burning kisse, Kisses in loue, force more then charmes or spels, And in sweet language; hopes-desires foretels, Ah louely _Greeke_, what heart hast thou (quoth he) What art thou made of? fire dissolueth yee, Tygers relent, yet thoul't not pitty me. 37 Dwel'st thou on forme? I can confirme thee than, _Sibilla_ liues to tell she did repent. Let _Latmus_ speake what it of _Delia_ can, And it will eccho her loue-languishment. Chaste eyes somtimes reflect kind blandishment: Beside, thy foueraigne will thy subiect be, Once a great king, now a despised man, A vassall, and a slaue to Loue and thee. 38 Why dost thou weep? tis I shold drown mine eies And burst my heart with languor, and dispaire, I whom thy vnrelenting thoughts despise, I who can woo thee by no sute, nor prayer, Yet doating mad for thee, o cruell faire, I sweare by this diuine white daizy-hand, The loue I beare thee, in my heart it lies, Whose searching fire, no reason can withstand. 39 Wilt thou be mine? here shalt thou liue with me, Free'd from oppression, and the Souldiers lust, Who if thou passe my Tent, will seize on thee, And they are rude, and what they will thou must. O do not to the common Kestrels trust, They are not as the Eagles noble kinde, But rough, and daring in all villany: Honor with me, with them scarce safety finde. 40