114. Upon a Delaying Lady
Come, come awayOr let me go;Must I here stayBecause you’re slow,And will continue so;—Troth, lady, no.
I scorn to beA slave to state;And since I’m free,I will not wait,Henceforth at such a rate,For needy fate.
If you desireMy spark should glow,The peeping fireYou must blow;Or I shall quickly growTo frost, or snow.
115. The Cruel Maid
—AND, cruel maid, because I seeYou scornful of my love, and me,I’ll trouble you no more, but goMy way, where you shall never knowWhat is become of me; there IWill find me out a path to die,Or learn some way how to forgetYou and your name for ever;—yetEre I go hence, know this from me,What will in time your fortune be;This to your coyness I will tell;And having spoke it once, Farewell.—The lily will not long endure,Nor the snow continue pure;The rose, the violet, one daySee both these lady-flowers decay;And you must fade as well as they.And it may chance that love may turn,And, like to mine, make your heart burnAnd weep to see’t; yet this thing do,That my last vow commends to you;When you shall see that I am dead,For pity let a tear be shed;And, with your mantle o’er me cast,Give my cold lips a kiss at last;If twice you kiss, you need not fearThat I shall stir or live more here.Next hollow out a tomb to coverMe, me, the most despised lover;And write thereon, THIS, READER, KNOW;LOVE KILL’D THIS MAN. No more, but so.