Awaie she went: so sweete a thing is golde, That (mauger) will inuade the strongest holde. "Hey-ho! she coms, that hath my hearte in keepe Sing Lullabie, my cares, and falle a-sleepe." 76 Sweeping she coms, as she would brush the ground; Hir ratling silkes my sences doe confound. "Oh, I am rauisht: voide the chamber streight; For I must neede's upon hir with my weight." 80 "My Tomalin," quoth shee, and then she smilde. "I, I," quoth I, "soe more men are beguild With smiles, with flatt'ring wordes, and fained cheere, When in their deedes their falsehood doeth appeare." 84 "As how, my lambkin," blushing, she replide, "Because I in this dancing schoole abide? If that it be, that breede's this discontent, We will remoue the camp incontinent: 88 For shelter onelie, sweete heart, came I hither, And to auoide the troblous stormie weather; But now the coaste is cleare, we will be gonne, Since, but thy self, true louer I haue none." 92 With that she sprung full lightlie to my lips, And fast about the neck me colle's, and clips; She wanton faints, and falle's vpon hir bedd, And often tosseth too and fro hir head; 96 She shutts hir eyes, and waggles with her tongue: "Oh, who is able to abstaine so long?" "I com! I com! sweete lyning be thy leaue:" Softlie my fingers up theis curtaine heaue, 100 And make me happie, stealing by degreese. First bare hir leggs, then creepe up to hir kneese; From thence ascend unto her mannely thigh-- (A pox on lingring when I am so nighe!). 104 Smock, climbe a-pace, that I maie see my ioyes; Oh heauen and paradize are all but toyes Compar'd with this sight I now behould, Which well might keepe a man from being olde. 108 A prettie rysing wombe without a weame, That shone as bright as anie siluer streame; And bare out like the bending of an hill, At whose decline a fountaine dwelleth still; 112 That hath his mouth besett with uglie bryers, Resembling much a duskie nett of wyres; A loftie buttock, barrd with azure veines, Whose comelie swelling, when my hand distreines, 116 Or wanton checketh with a harmlesse stype, It makes the fruites of loue oftsoone be rype, And pleasure pluckt too tymelie from the stemme To dye ere it hath seene Jerusalem. 120 O Gods! that euer anie thing so sweete, So suddenlie should fade awaie, and fleete! Hir armes are spread, and I am all unarm'd, Lyke one with Ouid's cursed hemlocke charm'd; 124