Kiss me, press me, till you feel All your raptured senses reel; Till your eyes, half closed and dim, In a dizzy transport swim, And you murmur faintly, “Grasp me, Swooning, in your arms, oh, clasp me.” In my fond sustaining arms I will hold your drooping charms; While the long, life-teeming kiss Shall recall your soul to bliss; And, as thus the vital store From my humid lips I pour, Till, exhausted with the play, All my spirit wastes away, Sudden, in my turn, I’ll cry, “Oh, support me, for I die.” To your fostering breast you’ll hold me, In your warm embrace enfold me, While your breath, in nectared gales, O’er my sinking soul prevails, While your kisses sweet impart Life and rapture to my heart. Thus, when youth is in its prime, Let’s enjoy the golden time; For when smiling youth is past, Age these tender joys shall blast: Sickness, which our bloom impairs, Slow-consuming, painful cares, Death, with dire remorseless rage, All attend the steps of age. [Illustration] THE KISS IN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. SELECTIONS FROM SHAKSPEARE. So full of valor that they smote the air For breathing in their faces; beat the ground For kissing of their feet; yet always bending Towards their project. _Tempest_, iv. 1. * * * * * Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love, That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod. _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, i. 2. * * * * * Why, then we’ll make exchange; here, take you this, And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, ii. 2. * * * * * She shall be dignified with this high honor,— To bear my lady’s train; lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss. _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, ii. 4. * * * * * The current that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know’st, being stopped, impatiently doth rage; But, when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with th’ enameled stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, ii. 7. * * * * * _Falstaff._ Her husband, dwelling in a continual ’larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our encounter, after we had embraced, kissed, protested, and, as it were, spoke the prologue of our comedy. _Merry Wives_, iii. 5. * * * * * What is love? ’tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What’s to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty, Youth’s a stuff will not endure. _Twelfth Night_, ii. 3.