| John Donne (1572–1631). The Poems of John Donne. 1896. | | | | Songs and Sonnets | | The Flea |
| | | MARK but this flea, and mark in this, | |
| How little that which thou deniest me is; | |
| It suck’d me first, and now sucks thee, 1 | |
| And in this flea our two bloods mingled be. | |
| Thou know’st that this 2 cannot be said | 5 |
| A sin, nor shame, nor 3 loss of maidenhead; | |
| Yet this enjoys before it woo, | |
| And pamper’d swells with one blood made of two; | |
| And this, alas! is more than we would 4 do. | |
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| O stay, three lives in one flea spare, | 10 |
| Where we almost, yea, 5 more than married are. | |
| This flea is you and I, and this | |
| Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is. | |
| Though parents grudge, and you, we’re met, | |
| And cloister’d in these living walls of jet. | 15 |
| Though use make you apt to kill me, | |
| Let not to that self-murder added be, | |
| And sacrilege, three sins in killing three. | |
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| Cruel and sudden, hast thou since | |
| Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence? | 20 |
| Wherein could this flea guilty be, | |
| Except in that drop 6 which it suck’d from thee? | |
| Yet thou triumph’st, and say’st that thou | |
| Find’st not thyself nor me the weaker now. | |
| ’Tis true; then learn how false fears be; | 25 |
| Just so much honour, when thou yield’st to me, | |
| Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee. | |
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