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To fan and blow them dry again she seeks.

He saith she is immodest, blames her miss;

What follows more she murders with a kiss.

Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,

Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone,

Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste

Till either gorge be stuffed or prey be gone,

Even so she kissed his brow, his cheek, his chin,

And where she ends she doth anew begin.

Forced to content, but never to obey,

Panting he lies and breatheth in her face.

She feedeth on the steam as on a prey

And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace,

Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers,

So they were dewed with such distilling showers.

Look how a bird lies tangled in a net,

So fastened in her arms Adonis lies.

Pure shame and awed resistance made him fret,

Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes.

Rain added to a river that is rank

Perforce will force it overflow the bank.

Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,

For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale.

Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets

’Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale.

Being red, she loves him best; and being white,

Her best is bettered with a more delight.

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