216. The Kiss: A Dialogue
1 Among thy fancies, tell me this, What is the thing we call a kiss? 2 I shall resolve ye what it is:—
It is a creature born and bredBetween the lips, all cherry-red,By love and warm desires fed,—CHOR. And makes more soft the bridal bed.
2 It is an active flame, that fliesFirst to the babies of the eyes,And charms them there with lullabies,—CHOR. And stills the bride, too, when she cries.
2 Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear,It frisks and flies, now here, now there:’Tis now far off, and then ’tis near,—CHOR. And here, and there, and every where.
1 Has it a speaking virtue? 2 Yes.1 How speaks it, say? 2 Do you but this,—Part your join’d lips, then speaks your kiss;CHOR. And this Love’s sweetest language is.
1 Has it a body? 2 Ay, and wings,With thousand rare encolourings;And as it flies, it gently sings—CHOR. Love honey yields, but never stings.