And yet (O madness!) these mine eyes did see Him melt in moving plaints, obsequiously Imploring favour; twining his kind arms, Using enchantments, exorcisms, charms; The oil of sonnets, wanton blandishment, 90 The force of tears, and seeming languishment, Unto the picture of a painted lass! I saw him court his mistress' looking-glass, Worship a busk-point, which, in secresy, I fear was conscious of strange villainy; I saw him crouch, devote his livelihood, Swear, protest, vow peasant servitude Unto a painted puppet; to her eyes I heard him swear his sighs to sacrifice. But if he get her itch-allaying pin, 100 O sacred relic! straight he must begin To rave outright,--then thus: "Celestial bliss, Can Heaven grant so rich a grace as this? Touch it not (by the Lord! sir), 'tis divine! It once beheld her radiant eye's bright shine! Her hair embraced it. O thrice-happy prick, That there was throned, and in her hair didst stick!" Kiss, bless, adore it, Publius, never lin; Some sacred virtue lurketh in the pin. O frantic, fond, pathetic passion! 110 Is't possible such sensual action Should clip the wings of contemplation? O can it be the spirit's function, The soul, not subject to dimension, Should be made slave to reprehension Of crafty nature's paint? Fie! can our soul Be underling to such a vile control? Saturio wish'd himself his mistress' busk, That he might sweetly lie, and softly lusk[555] Between her paps; then must he have an eye 120 At either end, that freely might descry Both hills and dales. But, out on Phrigio, That wish'd he were his mistress' dog, to go And lick her milk-white fist! O pretty grace! That pretty Phrigio begs but Pretty's place. Parthenophil,[556] thy wish I will omit, So beastly 'tis I may not utter it. But Punicus, of all I'll bear with thee, That fain wouldst be thy mistress' smug monkey. Here's one would be a flea[557] (jest comical!); 130 Another, his sweet lady's verdingal, To clip her tender breech; another, he Her silver-handled fan would gladly be; Here's one would be his mistress' necklace, fain To clip her fair, and kiss her azure vein. Fond fools, well wish'd, and pity but ['t] should be; For beastly shape to brutish souls agree. If Laura's painted lip do deign a kiss To her enamour'd slave, "O Heaven's bliss!" (Straight he exclaims) "not to be match'd with this!" Blaspheming dolt! go threescore sonnets write 141 Upon a picture's kiss, O raving sprite! I am not sapless, old, or rheumatic, No Hipponax, misshapen stigmatic,[558] That I should thus inveigh 'gainst amorous sprite Of him whose soul doth turn hermaphrodite; But I do sadly grieve, and inly vex, To view the base dishonour of our sex.