Eleg: 2.a| |
As ye sweet sweate of roses in a still, [f. 14] |
As that wch from chaf'd Muscatts pores doth trill, |
As the allmighty balme of the'early East |
Such are the sweat dropps on my Mistres brest. |
And on her neck her skin such lustre setts |
They seeme no sweat drops but pearle carcanetts. |
Ranck sweaty froth thy Mistres brow defiles |
Like spermatique issue of ripe menstrous biles. |
Or like ye Scūm, wch by needs lawles law |
Enforc'd, Sanserraes starved Men did draw |
from perboyld shoes and bootes and all the rest |
Wch weare wt any soueraigne fatnes blest. |
And like vile lying stones in saffrond tinne |
Or warts or wheales they hang vpon her skinne. |
Round, as ye world''is her head on euery side |
Like to yt fatal ball wch fell on Ide. |
Or yt whereof God had such iealousy |
As for the rauishing thereof we dy: |
Thy head is like a roughewen Statue of ieat |
Where marks for eyes, nose, mouth, are yet scarse sett; |
Like ye first Chaos, or flat seeming face |
Of Cinthia, when th'Earthes shadows her embrace. |
Like Proserpines whight bewty-keeping chest, |
Or Ioues best fortunes Vrne, is her faire brest. |
Thyne like Worme-eaten truncks clothd in Celes skin |
Or graue that's durt without, and stinch wthin. |
And like ye slender stalke at whose end stands |
The Woodbine quiuering, are her armes, and hands. |
Like rough-barkd Elmeboughs, or the russet skin |
Of Men late skourg'd for madnes or for sin, |
Like sun-parch'd quarters on the City gate |
Such is thy tann'd skins lamentable state. |
And like a bunch of ragged Carrets stand |
The short swolne fingers of thy gowty hand. |