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(Translated by Christopher Marlowe)
Ad amicam curruptam.
NO love is so dear,—quivered Cupid fly!— | |
| That my chief wish should be so oft to die. | |
| Minding thy fault, with death I wish to revel; | |
| Alas! a wench is a perpetual evil. | |
| No intercepted lines thy deeds display, | 5 |
| No gifts given secretly thy crime bewray. | |
| O would my proofs as vain might be withstood! | |
| Ah me, poor soul, why is my cause so good? | |
| He’s happy, that his love dares boldly credit; | |
| To whom his wench can say, “I never did it.” | 10 |
| He’s cruel, and too much his grief doth favour, | |
| That seeks the conquest by her loose behaviour. | |
| Poor wretch, I saw when thou didst think I slumbered; | |
| Not drunk, your faults on the spilt wine I numbered. | |
| I saw your nodding eyebrows much to speak, | 15 |
| Even from your cheeks, part of a voice did break. | |
| Not silent were thine eyes, the board with wine | |
| Was scribbled, and thy fingers writ a line. | |
| I knew your speech (what do not lovers see?) | |
| And words that seemed for certain marks to be. | 20 |
| Not many guests were gone, the feast being done, | |
| The youthful sort to divers pastimes run. | |
| I saw you then unlawful kisses join; | |
| (Such with my tongue it likes me to purloin); | |
| None such the sister gives her brother grave, | 25 |
| But such kind wenches let their lovers have. | |
| Phœbus gave not Diana such, ’tis thought, | |
| But Venus often to her Mars such brought. | |
| “What dost?” I cried; “transport’st thou my delight? | |
| My lordly hands I’ll throw upon my right. | 30 |
| Such bliss is only common to us two, | |
| In this sweet good why hath a third to do?” | |
| This, and what grief enforced me say, I said: | |
| A scarlet blush her guilty face arrayed; | |
| Even such as by Aurora hath the sky, | 35 |
| Or maids that their betrothèd husbands spy; | |
| Such as a rose mixed with a lily breeds, | |
| Or when the moon travails with charmèd steeds. | |
| Or such as, lest long years should turn the dye, | |
| Arachne stains Assyrian ivory. | 40 |
| To these, or some of these, like was her colour: | |
| By chance her beauty never shinèd fuller. | |
| She viewed the earth; the earth to view, beseemed her, | |
| She lookèd sad; sad, comely I esteemed her. | |
| Even kembèd as they were, her locks to rend, | 45 |
| And scratch her fair soft cheeks I did intend. | |
| Seeing her face, mine upreared arms descended, | |
| With her own armour was my wench defended. | |
| I, that erewhile was fierce, now humbly sue, | |
| Lest with worse kisses she should me endue. | 50 |
| She laughed, and kissed so sweetly as might make | |
| Wrath-kindled Jove away his thunder shake. | |
| I grieve lest others should such good perceive, | |
| And wish hereby them all unknown to leave. | |
| Also much better were they than I tell, | 55 |
| And ever seemed as some new sweet befell. | |
| ’Tis ill they pleased so much, for in my lips | |
| Lay her whole tongue hid, mine in hers she dips. | |
| This grieves me not; no joinèd kisses spent, | |
| Bewail I only, though I them lament. | 60 |
| Nowhere can they be taught but in the bed; | |
| I know no master of so great hire sped. | |
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