Kiss
LOVE still a boy and oft a wanton is,Schooled only by his mother’s tender eye;What wonder, then, if he his lesson miss,When for so soft a rod dear play he try?And yet my Star, because a sugared kissIn sport I sucked while she asleep did lie,Doth lower, nay chide, nay threat, for only this.—Sweet, it was saucy Love, not humble I!But no ’scuse serves; she makes her wrath appearIn Beauty’s throne; see now, who dares come nearThose scarlet judges, threatening bloody pain!O heavenly fool, thy most kiss-worthy faceAnger invests with such a lovely grace,That Anger’s self I needs must kiss again.