Page:National Ballad and Song (1897), vol. 1.djvu/43

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
NASH HIS DILDO
21
even now my ioys and sorrows doe beginne;
Hould wyde thy lappe, my louely Danae,
and entertaine this golden showry see;
That drisling fall[s] into thy treasurye:”
sweet Aprill flowers not halfe soe pleasaunt be,
Nor Nilus overflowinge Egipt playne,
as is the balme that all her woombe destreynes.
“Now, oh now,” she trickling moues her lippes,
and often to and fro she lightly startes and skippes:
She yerkes her legges, and fresketh with her heeles:
noe tongue can tell the pleasures that she feeles.
“I come, I come, sweete death, rocke mee a-sleepe!
sleepe, sleepe, desire, intombe me in the deepe!”
“Not soe, my deare and dearest,” she replyed:
“from vs two [? sweete] this pleasure must not glide,
Vntill the sinnowie Chambers of our blood
withould themselves from this newe prisoned flood;
And then we will, that then will come soe soone,
Dissolued lye, as thoughe our dayes were done.”
The whilest I speke, my soule is stealing hence,[MS. in]
and life forsakes his earthly residence:
“Staye but one houre,—an houre is not soe much,
nay, half an houre: and if thy haste be such,
Naye, but a quarter, I will aske noe more,
that thy departure, which torments me sore,
May now be lengthened by a litle pawse,
and take awaye this passions suddaine cause.
He heares me not; hard harted as he is,