She lay all naked on her bed and I myself lay by;
No veil but curtains about her spread, no covering but I.
Her head upon her shoulder seeks to hang in careless wise,
And full of blushes were her cheeks, and of wishes were her eyes.
Her blood still fresh into her face, as on a message came,
To say that in another place it meant another game.
Her cherry lip moist, plump and fair, millions of kisses crown,
Which ripe and uncropt dangled there and weighed the branches down.
Her breasts, that well'd so plump and high, bread pleasant pain in me.
For all the world I do defy the like felicity;
Her thighs and belly, soft and fair, to me were only shown:
To see such meat, and not to eat, would anger any stone.
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Her knees lay upward gently bent, and all lay hollow under,
As if on easy terms, they meant to fall unforc'd asunder;
Just so the Cyprian Queen did lie, expecting in her bower,
When too long stay had kept the boy beyond his promis'd hour.
"Dull clown" quoth she, "Why dost delay such proffer'd bliss to take?
Canst thou find out no other way similitudes to make?"
Mad with delight I, thundering, threw my arms about her,
But pox upon't 'twas but a dream, and so I lay without her.
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