Chapter III (2)

’Tis not a kiss you give, my love!
’Tis richest nectar from above!
A fragrant shower of balmy dews,
Which thy sweet lips alone diffuse!
’Tis every aromatic breeze,
That wafts from Afric’s spicy trees;
’Tis honey from the osier hive,
Which chymist bees with care derive
From all the newly-opened flowers
That bloom in Cecrops’ roseate bowers,
Or from the breathing sweets that grow
On famed Hymettus’ thymy brow:
But if such kisses you bestow,
If from your lips such raptures flow,
Thus blest, supremely blest by thee,
Ere long I must immortal be;
Must taste on earth those joys that wait
The banquets of celestial state.
Then cease thy bounty, dearest fair!
Such precious gifts then spare! oh, spare!
Or, if I must immortal prove,
Be thou immortal too, my love!
For, should the heavenly powers request
My presence at the ambrosial feast,
Nay, should they Jove himself dethrone,
And yield to me his radiant crown,
I’d scorn it all, nor would I deign
O’er golden realms of bliss to reign,
Jove’s radiant crown I’d scorn to wear,
Unless thou might’st such honors share;
Unless thou too, with equal sway,
Might’st rule with me the realms of day.

KISS V.

While tenderly around me cast
Your arms, Neæra, hold me fast,
And hanging o’er, to view confest
Your neck and gently-heaving breast,
Down on my shoulders soft decline
Your beauties more than half divine,
With wandering looks that o’er me rove,
And fire the melting soul with love:

While you, Neæra, fondly join
Your little pouting lips with mine,
And frolic bite your amorous swain,
Complaining soft if bit again,
And sweetly murmuring pour along
The trembling accents of your tongue,
Your tongue, now here, now there that strays,
Now here, now there delighted plays,
That now my humid kisses sips,
Now wanton darts between my lips;
And on my bosom raptured lie,
Venting the gently-whispered sigh,
A sigh that kindles warm desires,
And kindly fans life’s drooping fires;
Soft as the zephyr’s breezy wing,
And balmy as the breath of spring:

While you, sweet nymph! with amorous play,
In kisses suck my breath away;
My breath with wasting warmth replete,
Parched by my breast’s contagious heat;
Till, breathing soft, you pour again
Returning life through every vein;
Thus soothe to rest my passion’s rage,
Love’s burning fever thus assuage:
Sweet nymph! whose breath can best allay
Those fires that on my bosom prey,
Breath welcome as the cooling gale
That blows when scorching heats prevail:

Then, more than blest, I fondly swear,
“No power can with Love’s power compare!
None in the starry court of Jove
Is greater than the god of Love!
If any can yet greater be,
Yes, my Neæra! yes, ’tis thee!”

KISS VI.

Two thousand kisses of the sweetest kind,
’Twas once agreed, our mutual love should bind;
First from my lips a rapturous thousand flowed,
Then you a thousand in your turn bestowed;
The promised numbers were fulfilled, I own,
But love sufficed with numbers ne’er was known!
Who thinks of counting every separate blade
Upon the meadow’s verdant robe inlaid?
Who prays for numbered ears of ripening grain,
When lavish Ceres yellows o’er the plain?
Or to a scanty hundred would confine
The clustering grapes, when Bacchus loads the vine?
Who asks the guardian of the honeyed store
To grant a thousand bees, and grant no more?
Or tells the drops, while o’er some thirsty field
The liquid stores are from above distilled?
When Jove with fury hurls the moulded hail,
And earth and sea destructive storms assail,
Or when he bids, from his tempestuous sky,
The winds unchained with wasting horror fly,
The god ne’er heeds what harvests he may spoil,
Nor yet regards each desolated soil:
So, when its blessings bounteous heaven ordains,
It ne’er with sparing hand the good restrains;
Evils in like abundance too it showers;
Well suits profusion with immortal powers!
Then, since such gifts with heavenly minds agree,
Shed, goddess-like, your blandishments on me;
And say, Neæra! for that form divine
Speaks thee descended of ethereal line,—
Say, goddess! than that goddess lovelier far
Who roams o’er ocean in her pearly car,—
Your kisses, boons celestial, why withhold,
Or why by scanty numbers are they told?
Still you ne’er count, hard-hearted maid, those sighs
Which in my laboring breast incessant rise;
Nor yet those lucid drops of tender woe
Which down my cheeks in quick succession flow.
Yes, dearest life! your kisses number all;
And number, too, my sorrowing tears that fall:
Or, if you count not all the tears, my fair,
To count the kisses sure you must forbear.
But let your lips now soothe a lover’s pain,
(Yet griefs like mine what soothings shall restrain!)
If tears unnumbered pity can regard,
Unnumbered kisses must each tear reward.

KISS VII.

Kisses told by hundreds o’er,
Thousands told by thousands more,
Millions, countless millions, then,
Told by millions o’er again,
Countless as the drops that glide
In the ocean’s billowy tide,
Countless as yon orbs of light
Spangled o’er the vault of light,
I’ll with ceaseless love bestow
On those cheeks of crimson glow,
On those lips so gently swelling,
On those eyes such fond tales telling.

But when circled in thy arms,
As I’m panting o’er thy charms,
O’er thy cheeks of rosy bloom,
O’er thy lips that breathe perfume,
O’er thine eyes so sweetly bright,
Shedding soft expressive light,—
Then, nor cheeks of rosy bloom,
Nor thy lips that breathe perfume,
Nor thine eyes’ expressive light,
Bless thy lover’s envious sight;
Nor that soothing smile, which cheers
All his tender hopes and fears:
For, as radiant Phœbus streams
O’er the globe with placid beams,
Whirling through the ethereal way
The fiery-axled car of day,
And from the tempestuous sky
While the rapid coursers fly,
All the stormy clouds are driven
Which deformed the face of heaven
So thy golden smile, my fair,
Chases every amorous care;
Dries the torrents of mine eyes;
Calms my fond, tumultuous sighs.
Oh! how emulous the strife
’Twixt my lips and eyes, sweet life!
Of thy charms are these possest,
Those are envious till they’re blest:
Think not, then, that in my love
I’ll be rivalled e’en by Jove,
When such jealous conflicts rise
’Twixt my very lips and eyes.

KISS VIII.

Ah! what ungoverned rage, declare,
Neæra, too capricious fair,
What unrevenged, unguarded wrong,
Could urge thee thus to wound my tongue?

Perhaps you deem the afflictive pains
Too trifling, which my heart sustains,
Nor think enough my bosom smarts
With all the sure, destructive darts
Incessant sped from every charm,
That thus your wanton teeth must harm,
Must harm that little tuneful thing,
Which wont so oft thy praise to sing,
What time the morn has streaked the skies,
Or evening’s faded radiance dies,
Through painful days consuming slow,
Through lingering nights of amorous woe.

This tongue, thou know’st, has oft extolled
Thy hair in shining ringlets rolled;
Thine eyes with tender passion bright;
Thy swelling breast of purest white;
Thy taper neck of polished grace;
And all the beauties of thy face;
Beyond the lucid orbs above,
Beyond the starry throne of Jove;
Extolled them in such lofty lays
That gods with envy heard the praise.

Oft has it called thee every name
Which boundless rapture taught to frame;
My life! my joy! my soul’s desire!
All that my wish could e’er require!
My pretty Venus! and my love!
My gentle turtle! and my dove!
Till Cypria’s self with envy heard
Each partial, each endearing word.

Say, beauteous tyrant! dost delight
To wound this tongue in wanton spite?
Because, alas! too well aware
That every wrong it yet could bear
Ne’er urged it once in angry strain
Of thy unkindness to complain;
But, suffering patient all its harms,
Still would it sing thy matchless charms,
Sing the soft lustre of thine eye,
Sing thy sweet lips of rosy dye,
Nay, still those guilty teeth ’twould sing,
Whence all its cruel mischiefs spring:
E’en now it lisps in faltering lays,
While yet it bleeds, Neæra’s praise:
Thus, beauteous tyrant! you control,
Thus sway my fond, enamored soul!

KISS IX.

Cease thy sweet, thy balmy kisses;
Cease thy many-wreathèd smiles;
Cease thy melting, murmuring blisses;
Cease thy fond, bewitching wiles:

On my bosom soft reclined,
Cease to pour thy tender joys;
Pleasure’s limits are confined,
Pleasure oft repeated cloys.

Sparingly your bounty use;
When I ask for kisses nine,
Seven at least you must refuse,
And let only two be mine;

Yet let these be neither long,
Nor delicious sweets respire,
But like those which virgins young
Artless give their aged sire:

Such as, with a sister’s love,
Beauteous Dian may bestow
On the radiant son of Jove,
Phœbus of the silver bow.

Tripping light with wanton grace,
Now my lips disordered fly,
And in some retired place
Hide thee from my searching eye.

Each recess I’ll traverse o’er
Where I think thou liest concealed;
Every covert I’ll explore,
Till my wanton’s all revealed:

Then, in sportive, amorous play,
Victor-like I’ll seize my love;
Seize thee as the bird of prey
Pounces on a trembling dove.

Captive then, and sore dismayed,
How you’ll fondle, how you’ll plead,
Vainly offering, silly maid,
Seven sweet kisses to be freed!

Not so fast, fair runaway!
Kisses seven times seven be mine!
Chained within these arms you stay
Till I touch the balmy fine.

Paying then the forfeit due,
By your much-loved beauties swear,
Faults like these you’ll still pursue,
Faults which kisses can repair.

KISS X.

In various kisses various charms I find,
For changeful fancy loves each changeful kind:
Whene’er with mine thy humid lips unite,
Then humid kisses with their sweets delight;
From ardent lips so ardent kisses please,
For glowing transports often spring from these.
What joy! to kiss those eyes that wanton rove,
Then catch the glances of returning love;
Or clinging to the cheek of crimson glow,
The bosom, shoulder, or the neck of snow;
What pleasure! tender passion to assuage,
And see the traces of our amorous rage
On the soft neck or blooming cheek exprest,
On the white shoulder, or still whiter breast!
’Twixt yielding lips, in every thrilling kiss,
To dart the trembling tongue,—what matchless bliss!
Inhaling sweet each other’s mingling breath,
While Love lies gasping in the arms of Death!
While soul with soul in ecstasy unites,
Entranced, impassioned, with the fond delights
From thee received, or given to thee, my love!
Alike to me those kisses grateful prove;
The kiss that’s rapid, or prolonged with art,
The fierce, the gentle, equal joys impart:
But mark! be all my kisses, beauteous maid,
With different kisses from thy lips repaid;
Then varying rapture shall from either flow,
As varying kisses either shall bestow:
And let the first who with an unchanged kiss
Shall cease to thus diversify the bliss,
Observe, with looks in meek submission dressed,
That law by which this forfeiture’s expressed:
“As many kisses as each lover gave,
As each might in return again receive,
So many kisses from the vanquished side
The victor claims, so many ways applied.”

KISS XI.

Some think my kisses too luxurious told,
Kisses, they say, not known to sires of old:
But, while entranced on thy soft neck I lie,
And o’er thy lips in tender transport die,
Shall I then ask, dear life, perplexed in vain,
Why rigid cynics censure thus my strain?
Ah, no! thy blandishments so rapturous prove
That every ravished sense is lost in love:
Blest with those blandishments, divine I seem,
And all Elysium paints the blissful dream.
Neæra heard,—then, smiling, instant threw
Around my neck her arm of fairest hue,
And kissed me fonder, more voluptuous far,
Than Beauty’s queen e’er kissed the god of War:
“What (cries the nymph)! and shall my amorous bard
Pedantic wisdom’s stern decree regard?
Thy cause must be at my tribunal tried:
None but Neæra can the point decide.”

KISS XII.

Modest matrons, maidens, say,
Why thus turn your looks away?
Frolic feats of lawless love,
Of the lustful powers above,
Forms obscene that shock the sight,
In my verse I ne’er recite,—
Verse where naught indecent reigns;
Guiltless are my tender strains,
Such as pedagogues austere
Might with strict decorum hear,
Might, with no licentious speech,
To their youth reproachless teach.
I, chaste votary of the Nine,
Kisses sing of chaste design.
Maids and matrons yet, with rage,
Frown upon my blameless page,—
Frown, because some wanton word
Here and there by chance occurred,
Or the cheated fancy caught
Some obscure though harmless thought.
Hence, ye prudish matrons! hence,
Squeamish maids devoid of sense!
And shall these in virtue dare
With my virtuous maid compare,—
She who in the bard will prize
What she’ll in his lays despise?
Wantonness with love agrees,
But reserve in verse must please.

KISS XIII.

With amorous strife exanimate I lay;
Around your neck my languid arm I threw;
My trembling heart had just forgot to play,
Its vital spirit from my bosom flew;—

The Stygian lake, the dreary realms below,
To which the sun a cheering beam denies,
Old Charon’s boat, slow-wandering to and fro,
Promiscuous passed before my swimming eyes,—

When you, Neæra! with your humid breath
O’er my parched lips the deep-fetched kiss bestowed
Sudden my fleeting soul returned from death,
And freightless hence the infernal pilot rowed.

Yet soft,—for, oh, my erring senses stray;—
Not quite unfreighted to the Stygian shore
Old Charon steered his lurid bark away:
My plaintive shade he to the Manes bore.

Then, since my soul can here no more remain,
A part of thine, sweet life, that loss supplies!
But what this feeble fabric must sustain,
If of thy soul that part its aid denies!

And much I fear; for, struggling to be free,
Oft from its new abode it fain would roam;
Oft seeks, impatient to return to thee,
Some secret pass to gain its native home.

Unless thy fostering breath retards its flight,
It now prepares to quit this falling frame:
Haste, then; to mine thy clinging lips unite,
And let one spirit feed each vital flame,

Till, after frequent ecstasies of bliss,
Mutual, unsating to the impassioned heart,
From bodies thus conjoined, in one long kiss,
That single life which nourished both shall part.

KISS XIV.

Those tempting lips of scarlet glow
Why pout with fond, bewitching art?
For to those lips, Neæra, know,
My lips shall not one kiss impart.

Perhaps you’d have me greatly prize,
Hard-hearted fair, your precious kiss;
But learn, proud mortal, I despise
Such cold, such unimpassioned bliss.

Think’st thou I calmly feel the flame
That all my rending bosom fires,
And patient bear, through all my frame,
The pangs of unallayed desires?

Ah, no!—but turn not thus aside
Those tempting lips of scarlet glow;
Nor yet avert, with angry pride,
Those eyes, from whence such raptures flow!

Forgive the past, sweet-natured maid;
My kisses, love, are all thy own:
Then let my lips to thine be laid,
To thine, more soft than softest down.

KISS XV.

The Idalian boy, to pierce Neæra’s heart,
Had bent his bow, had chose the fatal dart;
But when the child, in wonder lost, surveyed
That brow, o’er which your sunny tresses played,
Those cheeks, that blushed the rose’s warmest dye,
That streamy languish of your lucid eye,
That bosom, too, with matchless beauty bright
(Scarce Cypria’s own could boast so pure a white),
Though mischief urged him first to wound my fair,
Yet partial fondness urged him now to spare.
But, doubting still, he lingered to decide;
At length, resolved, he flung the shaft aside,
Then sudden rushed impetuous to thy arms,
And hung voluptuous on thy heavenly charms:
There as the boy in wanton folds was laid,
His lips o’er thine in varied kisses played;
With every kiss he tried a thousand wiles,
A thousand gestures, and a thousand smiles;
Your inmost breast with Cyprian odors filled,
And all the myrtle’s luscious scent instilled:
Lastly, he swore by every power above,
By Venus’ self, the potent Queen of Love,
That you, blest nymph, forever should remain
Exempt from amorous care, from amorous pain.
What wonder, then, such balmy sweets should flow
In every grateful kiss your lips bestow?
What wonder, then, obdurate maid, you prove
Averse to all the tenderness of love?

KISS XVI.

Bright as Venus’ golden star,
Fair as Dian’s silver car,
Nymph with every charm replete,
Give me hundred kisses sweet;
Then as many kisses more
O’er my lips profusely pour,
As the insatiate bard could want,
Or his bounteous Lesbia grant;
As the vagrant Loves that stray
On thy lips’ nectareous way;
As the dimpling Graces spread
On thy cheeks’ carnationed bed;
As the deaths thy lovers die;
As the conquests of thine eye,
Or the cares and fond delights
Which its changeful beam incites;
As the hopes and fears we prove,
Or the impassioned sighs, in love;
As the shafts by Cupid sped,
Shafts by which my heart has bled;
As the countless stores that still
All his golden quiver fill.
Whispered plaints, and wanton wiles,
Speeches soft, and soothing smiles,
Teeth-imprinted, tell-tale blisses,
Intermix with all thy kisses.
So, when zephyr’s breezy wing
Wafts the balmy breath of spring,
Turtles thus their loves repeat,
Fondly billing, murmuring sweet,
While their trembling pinions tell
What delights their bosoms swell.

Kiss me, press me, till you feel
All your raptured senses reel;
Till your eyes, half closed and dim,
In a dizzy transport swim,
And you murmur faintly, “Grasp me,
Swooning, in your arms, oh, clasp me.”
In my fond sustaining arms
I will hold your drooping charms;
While the long, life-teeming kiss
Shall recall your soul to bliss;
And, as thus the vital store
From my humid lips I pour,
Till, exhausted with the play,
All my spirit wastes away,
Sudden, in my turn, I’ll cry,
“Oh, support me, for I die.”
To your fostering breast you’ll hold me,
In your warm embrace enfold me,
While your breath, in nectared gales,
O’er my sinking soul prevails,
While your kisses sweet impart
Life and rapture to my heart.
Thus, when youth is in its prime,
Let’s enjoy the golden time;
For when smiling youth is past,
Age these tender joys shall blast:
Sickness, which our bloom impairs,
Slow-consuming, painful cares,
Death, with dire remorseless rage,
All attend the steps of age.

THE KISS IN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

SELECTIONS FROM SHAKSPEARE.

So full of valor that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces; beat the ground
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project.

_Tempest_, iv. 1.

* * * * *

Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod.

_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, i. 2.

* * * * *

Why, then we’ll make exchange; here, take you this,
And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.

_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, ii. 2.

* * * * *

She shall be dignified with this high honor,—
To bear my lady’s train; lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss.

_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, ii. 4.

* * * * *

The current that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know’st, being stopped, impatiently doth rage;
But, when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with th’ enameled stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage.

_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, ii. 7.

* * * * *

_Falstaff._ Her husband, dwelling in a continual ’larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our encounter, after we had embraced, kissed, protested, and, as it were, spoke the prologue of our comedy.

_Merry Wives_, iii. 5.

* * * * *

What is love? ’tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What’s to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty,
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.

_Twelfth Night_, ii. 3.

* * * * *

Take, oh, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but sealed in vain.

_Measure for Measure_, ii. 1.

* * * * *

_Benedict._ Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.

_Beatrice._ Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.

_Much Ado_, v. 2.

* * * * *

To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
Crystal is muddy. Oh, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealèd white, high Taurus’ snow,
Fanned with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold’st up thy hand: Oh, let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!

_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, iii. 2.

* * * * *

So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not
To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,
As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote
The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows.

_Love’s Labor Lost_, iv. 3.

* * * * *

Why, this is he
That kissed away his hand in courtesy;
——the ladies call him, sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet.

_Love’s Labor Lost_, v. 2.

* * * * *

Why, that’s the lady; all the world desires her;
From the four corners of the earth they come,
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint.

_Merchant of Venice_, ii. 7.

* * * * *

Some there be that shadows kiss;
Some have but a shadow’s bliss.

_Merchant of Venice_, ii. 9.

* * * * *

The moon shines bright. In such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,
And they did make no noise——

_Merchant of Venice_, v. 1.

* * * * *

If you be well pleased with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss.

_Merchant of Venice_, iii. 2.

* * * * *

_Rosalind._ His very hair is of the dissembling color.

_Celia._ Something browner than Judas’: marry, his kisses are Judas’ own children.

_R._ I’ faith, his hair is of a good color.

_C._ An excellent color: your chestnut was ever the only color.

_R._ And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread.

_C._ He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun of winter’s sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

_As You Like It_, iii. 4.

* * * * *

_Rosalind._ Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind?

_Orlando._ I would kiss before I spoke.

_R._ Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking (God warn us) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.

_O._ How if the kiss be denied?

_R._ Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.

_As You Like It_, iv. 1.

* * * * *

_Clown._ He that comforts my wife is the nourisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend: _ergo_, he that kisses my wife is my friend.

_All’s Well that Ends Well_, i. 3.

* * * * *

_Helena._ I would not tell you what I would. My lord—’faith, yes;—
Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss.

_All’s Well that Ends Well_, ii. 5.

* * * * *

I saw sweet beauty in her face,
Such as the daughter of Agenor had,
That made great Jove to humble him to her hand,
When with his knees he kissed the Cretan strand.

_Taming of the Shrew_, i. 1.

* * * * *

_Petruchio._ I tell you, ’tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me. Oh, the kindest Kate!—
She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink, she won me to her love.

_Taming of the Shrew_, ii. 1.

* * * * *

_Gremio._ This done, he took the bride about the neck,
And kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack,
That, at the parting, all the church did echo.

_Taming of the Shrew_, iii. 2.

* * * * *

_Petruchio._ First kiss me, Kate, and we will.

_Katharine._ What, in the midst of the street?

_P._ What, art thou ashamed of me?

_K._ No sir; God forbid:—but ashamed to kiss.

_P._ Why, then let’s home again. Come, sirrah, let’s away.

_K._ Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee, love, stay.

_Taming of the Shrew_, v. 1.

* * * * *

Never gazed the moon
Upon the water, as he’ll stand, and read,
As ’twere, my daughter’s eyes; and, to be plain,
I think there is not half a kiss to choose
Who loves another best.

_Winter’s Tale_, iv. 3.

* * * * *

Never saw I
Wretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the earth.

_Winter’s Tale_, v. 1.

* * * * *

_Leontes._ You are married?

_Florizel._ We are not, sir, nor are we like to be;
The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first.

_Winter’s Tale_, v. 1.

* * * * *

_Perdita._ Do not say ’tis superstition that
I kneel, and then implore her blessing. Lady,
Dear queen, that ended when I but began;
Give me that hand of yours to kiss.

_Paulina._ Oh, patience;
The statue is but newly fixed, the color’s
Not dry.[19]

...

_Leontes._ There is an air comes from her. What fine chisel
Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,
For I will kiss her.

_Paulina._ Good my lord, forbear:
The ruddiness upon her lip is wet;
You’ll mar it if you kiss it; stain your own
With oily painting.

_Winter’s Tale_, v. 3.

* * * * *

Is it night’s predominance, or the day’s shame,
That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
When living light should kiss it?

_Macbeth_, ii. 4.

* * * * *

_Macbeth._ I’ll not yield
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm’s feet,
And to be baited with the rabble’s curse.

_Macbeth_, v. 7.

* * * * *

Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As seal to this indenture of my love.

_King John_, ii. 1.

* * * * *

Fortune shall cull forth
Out of one side her happy minion;
To whom in favor she shall give the day,
And kiss him with a glorious victory.

_King John_, ii. 2.

* * * * *

Nor let my kingdom’s rivers take their course
Through my burned bosom; nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kiss my parchèd lips,
And comfort me with cold.

_King John_, v. 6.

* * * * *

(_Richard to Bolingbroke, kneeling._)

Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee,
To make the base earth proud with kissing it.

_Richard II._, iii. 3.

* * * * *

(_Richard to the Queen._)

Let me unkiss the oath ’twixt thee and me;
And yet not so, for with a kiss ’twas made.[20]
...
Come, come, in wooing sorrow let’s be brief,
Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.
One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part:
Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. [_They kiss._

_Queen._ Give me mine own again; ’twere no good part,
To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. [_Kiss again._
So now I have mine own again, begone,
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

_Richard II._, v. 1.

* * * * *

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
And that’s a feeling disputation.

_1 Henry IV._, ii. 2.

* * * * *

_Falstaff._ Thou dost give me flattering busses.

_Doll._ Nay, truly: I kiss thee with a most constant heart.

_2 Henry IV._, ii. 4.

* * * * *

_Pistol._ Touch her soft mouth, and march.

_Bardolph._ Farewell, hostess. [_Kissing her._

_Nym._ I cannot kiss, that is the humor of it; but adieu.

_Henry V._, ii. 4.

* * * * *

I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings
I love the lovely bully.

_Henry V._, iv. 1.

* * * * *

_King Henry._ Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken English. Wilt thou have me?

_Katharine._ Dat is, as it shall please de _roy mon pere_.

_Hen._ Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate.

_Kath._ Den it shall also content me.

_Hen._ Upon that I will kiss your hand, and I call you—my queen.

_Kath._ _Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez: ma foy, je ne veux point que vous abaissez vostre grandeur en baisant la main d’un vostre indigne serviteure; excusez moy, je vous supplie, mon tres puissant seigneur._

_Hen._ Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.

_Kath._ _Les dames, et damoiselles, pour estre baisées devant leur nopces, il n’est pas le coutume de France._

_Hen._ Madam my interpreter, what says she?

_Alice._ Dat it is not de fashion _pour les_ ladies of France,—I cannot tell what is, _baiser_, _en_ English.

_Hen._ To kiss.

_Alice._ Your majesty _entendre_ bettre _que moy_.

_Hen._ It is not the fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married, would she say?

_Alice._ _Ouy, vrayment._

_Hen._ O Kate, nice customs curtsey to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country’s fashion; we are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouths of all find-faults, as I will do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your country, in denying me a kiss: therefore, patiently, and yielding [_kissing her_]. You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate; there is more eloquence in the sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the French council, and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs.

_Henry V._, v. 2.

* * * * *

_Mortimer._ Direct mine arms, I may embrace his neck,
And in his bosom spend my latter gasp;
Oh, tell me, when my lips do touch his cheeks,
That I may kindly give one fainting kiss.

_1 Henry VI._, ii. 5.

* * * * *

(_Suffolk to Lady Margaret._)

Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.
O fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly;
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands,
And lay them gently on thy tender side.
I kiss these fingers [_kisses her hand_] for eternal peace.

_1 Henry VI._, v. 3.

* * * * *

_King Henry._ Welcome, Queen Margaret;
I can express no kinder sign of love,
Than this kind kiss.

_2 Henry VI._, i. 1.

* * * * *

(_Queen Margaret to Suffolk, kissing his hand._)

Oh, could this kiss be printed in thy hand,
That thou mightst think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee![21]
...
Oh, go not yet! Even thus two friends condemned
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves.

_2 Henry VI._, iii. 2.

* * * * *

And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang’st,
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.
[_Aside._] To say the truth, so Judas kissed his master;
And cried, all hail! when as he meant all harm.

_3 Henry VI._, v. 7.

* * * * *

Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

_Richard III._, i. 2.

* * * * *

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which, in their summer beauty, kissed each other.

_Richard III._, iv. 3.

* * * * *

(_Henry VIII. to Anne Bullen, after the dance._)

Sweetheart,
I were unmannerly, to take you out,
And not to kiss you.[22]

_Henry VIII._, i. 4.

* * * * *

The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
So much they love it.

_Henry VIII._, iii. 1.

* * * * *

_Cressida._ My lord, I do beseech you pardon me;
’Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss:
I am ashamed,—Oh, heavens! what have I done?

_Troilus and Cressida_, iii. 2.

* * * * *

As many farewells as the stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consigned kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu;
And scants us with a single famished kiss,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears.

_Troilus and Cressida_, iv. 4.

* * * * *

(_Headquarters of the Grecian camp. Enter Diomed with Cressida._)

_Agamemnon._ Is this the lady Cressid?

_Diomed._ Even she.

_Agam._ Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady.

_Nestor._ Our general doth salute you with a kiss.

_Ulysses._ Yet is the kindness but particular;
’Twere better she were kissed in general.

_Nest._ And very courtly counsel: I’ll begin.—
So much for Nestor.

_Achilles._ I’ll take that winter from your lips, fair lady:
Achilles bids you welcome.

_Menelaus._ I had good argument for kissing once.

_Patroclus._ But that’s no argument for kissing now.
...
The first was Menelaus’ kiss;—this, mine;
Patroclus kisses you.

_Men._ Oh, this is trim!

_Patr._ Paris and I kiss evermore for him.

_Men._ I’ll have my kiss, sir:—Lady, by your leave.

_Cressida._ In kissing, do you render or receive?[23]

_Patr._ Both take and give.

_Cres._ I’ll make my match to live.
The kiss you take is better than you give;
Therefore no kiss.

_Men._ I’ll give you boot, I’ll give you three for one.

_Cres._ You’re an odd man; give even or give none.

...

_Ulyss._ May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?

_Cres._ You may.

_Ulyss._ I do desire it.

_Cres._ Why, beg, then.

_Ulyss._ Why, then, for Venus’ sake, give me a kiss
When Helen is a maid again and his.

_Cres._ I am your debtor, claim it when ’tis due.

_Ulyss._ Never’s my day, and then a kiss of you.

_Troilus and Cressida_, iv. 5.

* * * * *

(_Cressida to Diomed._)

Thy master now lies thinking in his bed
Of thee, and me; and sighs, and takes my glove,
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it,
As I kiss thee.

_Troilus and Cressida_, v. 2.

* * * * *

(_Timon, looking on the gold._)

Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate wooer,
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
That lies on Dian’s lap! thou visible god,
That solder’st close impossibilities,
And mak’st them kiss!

_Timon of Athens_, iv. 3.

* * * * *

Oh, a kiss
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
Hath virgined it e’er since.

_Coriolanus_, v. 3.

* * * * *

Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,
Assemble all the poor men of your sort;
Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

_Julius Cæsar_, i. 1.

* * * * *

Let but the commons hear his testament,
And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar’s wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood.

_Julius Cæsar_, iii. 2.

* * * * *

Last thing he did, dear queen,
He kissed—the last of many doubled kisses—
This orient pearl.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, i. 5.

* * * * *

(_Cleopatra to Messenger._)

If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here
My bluest veins to kiss; a hand, that kings
Have lipped, and trembled kissing.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, ii. 5.

* * * * *

We have kissed away
Kingdoms and provinces.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, iii. 8.

* * * * *

_Antony._ Fare thee well, dame, whate’er becomes of me:
This is a soldier’s kiss; rebukable,
And worthy shameful check it were, to stand
On more mechanic compliment.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, iv. 4.

* * * * *

_Antony._ I am dying, Egypt, dying; only
I here importune death awhile, until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay upon thy lips.

...

_Cleopatra._ And welcome, welcome! die, where thou hast lived:
Quicken with kissing; had my lips that power,
Thus would I wear them out.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, iv. 13.

* * * * *

_Cleopatra._ Come, then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
...
If she first meet the curlèd Antony,
He’ll make demand of her; and spend that kiss,
Which is my heaven to have.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, v. 2.

* * * * *

_Imogene._ Then waved his handkerchief?

_Pisanio._ And kissed it, madam.

_Imogene._ Senseless linen! happier therein than I!

_Cymbeline_, i. 4.

* * * * *

Ere I could
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north,
Shakes all our buds from growing.

_Cymbeline_, i. 4.

* * * * *

Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom’st thy bed! fresh lily!
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagoned,
How dearly they do’t!—’tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus.

_Cymbeline_, ii. 2.

* * * * *

_Imogene._ Last night ’twas on mine arm; I kissed it;
I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but he.

_Cymbeline_, ii. 3.

* * * * *

Oh, had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,
He would not then have touched them for his life.

_Titus Andronicus_, ii. 5.

* * * * *

Thou know’st this,
’Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.

_Pericles_, i. 2.

* * * * *

A city on whom plenty held full hand,
Whose towers bore heads so high, they kissed the clouds.

_Pericles_, i. 4.

* * * * *

_Gloster._ Oh, let me kiss that hand!

_Lear._ Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.

_King Lear_, iv. 6.

* * * * *

_Cordelia._ Oh, my dear father! Restoration, hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made.

_King Lear_, iv. 7.

* * * * *

These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows.

_Romeo and Juliet_, i. 1.

* * * * *

And in this state she[24] gallops night by night
...
O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream;
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.[25]

_Romeo and Juliet_, i. 4.

* * * * *

_Romeo._ If I profane with my unworthy hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,—
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

_Juliet._ Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.

_Romeo._ Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

_Juliet._ Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

_Romeo._ Oh, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

_Juliet._ Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.

_Romeo._ Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.

(_Kissing her._)[26]

_Juliet._ Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

_Romeo._ Sin from my lips? Oh, trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.

_Juliet._ You kiss by the book.

_Romeo and Juliet_, i. 5.

* * * * *

Oh that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

_Romeo and Juliet_, ii. 2.

* * * * *

These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die! like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume.

_Romeo and Juliet_, ii. 6.

* * * * *

They may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand,
And steal immortal blessings from her lips;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush as thinking their own kisses sin.

_Romeo and Juliet_, iii. 3.

* * * * *

_Romeo._ Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss,
A dateless bargain to engrossing death.

_Romeo and Juliet_, v. 3.

* * * * *

_Juliet._ Drink all, and leave no friendly drop,
To help me after?—I will kiss thy lips;
Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative.

_Romeo and Juliet_, v. 3.

* * * * *

Alas, poor Yorick!... Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.

_Hamlet_, v. 1.

* * * * *

_Iago._ Very good; well kissed! an excellent courtesy.

_Othello_, ii. 1.

* * * * *

_Emilia._ This was her first remembrance[27] from the Moor.
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Wooed me to steal it; but she so loves the token,
That she reserves it evermore about her,
To kiss, and talk to.

_Othello_, iii. 3.

* * * * *

_Othello._ I found not Cassio’s kisses on her lips;
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen,
Let him not know it, and he’s not robbed at all.

_Othello_, iii. 3.

* * * * *

_Iago._ One of this kind is Cassio:
In sleep I heard him say, “Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!”
And then, sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand,
Cry, “Oh, sweet creature!” and then kiss me hard,
As if he plucked up kisses by the roots,
That grew upon my lips.

_Othello_, iii. 3.

* * * * *

_Othello._ I kissed thee ere I killed thee,—no way but this,
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

_Othello_, v. 2.

BEN JONSON.

Their lips were sealed with kisses, and the voice,
Drowned in a flood of joy at their arrival,
Had lost her motion, state, and faculty.

_Every Man in his Humor_, iii. 3.

* * * * *

Oh, sweet Fastidious! Oh, fine courtier! How comely he bows him in his courtesy! how full he hits a woman between the lips when he kisses!

_Every Man out of his Humor_, iv. 1.

* * * * *

_Hedon._ You know I call madam Philautia my Honor; and she calls me her Ambition. Now, when I meet her in the presence anon, I will come to her, and say, _Sweet Honor, I have hitherto contented my sense with the lilies of your hand, but now I will taste the roses of your lip_; and, withal, kiss her: to which she cannot but blushingly answer, _Nay, now you are too ambitious_. And then do I reply: _I cannot be too Ambitious of Honor, sweet lady_. Will’t not be good? ha? ha?

_Anaides._ Oh, assure your soul.

_Hedon._ By heaven, I think ’twill be excellent; and a very politic achievement of a kiss.

_Cynthia’s Revels_, ii. 1.

* * * * *

He that had the grace to print a kiss on those lips should taste wine and rose-leaves. Oh, she kisses as close as a cockle.

_Cynthia’s Revels_, v. 2.

* * * * *

Your city ladies, you shall have them sit in every shop, like the muses, offering you the Castalian dews and the Thespian liquors to as many as have but the sweet grace and audacity to—sip of their lips.

_Poetaster_, iii. 1.

* * * * *

A beauty ripe as harvest,
Whose skin is whiter than a swan all over,
Than silver, snow, or lilies! A soft lip,
Would tempt you to eternity of kissing.

_Fox_, i. 1.

* * * * *

Praise them, flatter them, you shall never want eloquence or trust: even the chastest delight to feel themselves that way rubbed. With praises you must mix kisses too; if they take them, they’ll take more,—though they strive, they would be overcome.

_Silent Woman_, iv. 1.

* * * * *

_Face._ This is the noble knight,
I told your ladyship——

_Mammon._ Madam, with your pardon,
I kiss your vesture.

_Dol._ Sir, I were uncivil
If I would suffer that; my lip to you, sir.

_Alchemist_, iv. 1.

* * * * *

_Subtle._ I cry this lady mercy; she should first
Have been saluted. [_Kisses her._] I do call you lady,
Because you are to be one ere ’t be long,
My soft and buxom widow.

_Kastril._ Is she, i’ faith?

_Sub._ Yes, or my art is an egregious liar.

_Kas._ How know you?

_Sub._ By inspection on her forehead
And subtlety of her lip, which must be tasted
Often, to make a judgment.

_Alchemist_, iv. 1.

* * * * *

_Beaufort._ Then I have read somewhere that man and woman
Were, in the first creation, both one piece,
And, being cleft asunder, ever since
Love was an appetite to be rejoined,
As for example—[_Kisses Lætitia._

_New Inn_, iii. 2.

* * * * *

_Prudence._ The hour is come; your kiss.

_Lady F._ My servant’s song, first.

_Prudence._ I say the kiss, first; and I so enjoined it.
At your own peril, do, make the contempt.

_Lady F._ Well, sir, you must be paid, and legally.

[_Kisses Lovel._

_Prudence._ Nay, nothing, sir, beyond.

_Lovel._ One more—I except.
This was but half a kiss, and I would change it.

_Prudence._ The court’s dissolved, removed, and the play ended.
No sound or air of love more; I decree it.

_New Inn_, iv. 3.

* * * * *

_Marian._ You are a wanton.

_Robin Hood._ _One_, I do confess,
I _want_-ed till you came; but now I have you
I’ll grow to your embraces till two souls,
Distillèd into kisses through our lips,
Do make one spirit of love.

_Sad Shepherd_, i. 2.

* * * * *

She that will but now discover
Where the wingèd wag doth hover
Shall to-night receive a kiss,
How or where herself would wish;
But who brings him to his mother
Shall have that kiss and another.

_Hue and Cry after Cupid._

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

Kiss you at first, my lord! ’tis no fair fashion;
Our lips are like rose-buds: blown with men’s breaths,
They lose both sap and savor.

_Mad Lover._

* * * * *

_Guiomar._ You sent this letter?

_Rutilio._ My boldness makes me blush now.

_Guiomar._ I’ll wipe off that;
And with this kiss I take you for my husband.
Your wooing’s done, sir; I believe you love me,
And that’s the wealth I look for now.

_Custom of the Country._

* * * * *

My charity shall go along with thee,
Though my embraces must be far from thee.
I should have killed thee, but this sweet repentance
Locks up my vengeance; for which thus I kiss thee,
The last kiss we must take! And would to Heaven
The holy priest that gave our hands together
Had given us equal virtues.

_Maid’s Tragedy._

* * * * *

_Duke._ Didst thou ne’er wish, Olympia,
It might be thus?

_Olympia._ A thousand times.

_Duke._ Here, take him!
Nay, do not blush; I do not jest; kiss sweetly.
Boy, you kiss faintly, boy. Heaven give ye comfort!
Teach him,—he’ll quickly learn. There’s two hearts eased now.

_Loyal Subject._

* * * * *

_Eros._ While you were honest
I loved you too.

_Septimius._ Honest? Come, pr’ythee kiss me.

_Eros._ I kiss no knaves, no murderers, no beasts,
No base betrayers of those men that fed ’em;
I hate their looks; and, though I may be wanton,
I scorn to nourish it with bloody purchase.

_False One._

* * * * *

_Cleopatra._ [_To Cæsar._] I stood slighted,
Forgotten and contemned; my soft embraces,
And those sweet kisses you called Elysium,
As letters writ in sand, no more remembered.

_False One._

* * * * *

_Sceva._ [_To Cæsar._] Whilst you are secure here,
And offer hecatombs of lazy kisses
To the lewd god of love and cowardice,
And most lasciviously die in delights,
You are begirt with the fierce Alexandrians.

_False One._

* * * * *

Come, friends, and kill me.
Cæsar, be kind, and send a thousand swords;
The more the greater is my fall. Why stay ye?
Come, and I’ll kiss your weapons.

_Valentinian._

* * * * *

Oh, my heart!
How have I longed to meet you, how to kiss
Those lily hands, how to receive the bliss
That charming tongue gives to the happy ear
Of him that drinks your language!

_Faithful Shepherdess._

* * * * *

I am not bashful, virgin; I can please
At first encounter, hug thee in mine arm,
And give thee many kisses, soft and warm
As those the sun prints on the smiling cheek
Of plums or mellow peaches.

_Faithful Shepherdess._

LILLY.

Cupid and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses; Cupid paid:
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother’s doves, and team of sparrows,—
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on’s cheek (but none knows how),
With these the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple on his chin:
All these did my Campaspe win.
At last he set her both his eyes:
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas! become of me?

_Alexander and Campaspe._

MARLOWE.

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
And burnt the topmost towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!

_Faustus._

MARSTON.

She comes like—oh, no simile
Is precious, choice, or elegant enough
To illustrate her descent; leap, heart, she comes,—
She comes! smile, heaven, and, softest southern wind,
Kiss her cheek gently with perfumèd breath.
She comes; creation’s purity, admired,
Adored, amazing rarity,—she comes!
...
Mount, blood, soul, to my lips, taste Hebe’s cup;
Stand firm on deck, when beauty’s close fight’s up.

_Antonio and Mellida._

* * * * *

If thou knew’st my happiness,
Thou wouldst even grate away thy soul to dust
In envy of my sweet beatitude:
I cannot sleep for kisses; I cannot rest
For ladies’ letters that importune me
With such unusèd vehemence of love,
Straight to solicit them, that—

_Antonio and Mellida._

MASSINGER.

May I taste
The nectar of her lip? I do not give it
The praise it merits: antiquity is too poor
To help me with a simile to express her:
Let me drink often from this living spring,
To nourish new invention.

_Emperor of the East._

* * * * *

_Sforza._ Can any act, though ne’er so loose, that may
Invite or heighten appetite, appear
Immodest or uncomely? Do not move me;
My passions to you are in extremes,
And know no bounds:—come, kiss me.

_Marcelia._ I obey you.

_Sforza._ By all the joys of love, she does salute me
As if I were her grandfather! What witch,
With cursèd spells, hath quenched the amorous heat
That lived upon these lips? Tell me, Marcelia,
And truly tell me, is’t a fault of mine
That hath begot this coldness?

_Duke of Milan._

* * * * *

_Francisco_. [_Preserving the dead body of Marcelia._]
Your ladyship looks pale;
But I, your doctor, have a ceruse for you.
See, my Eugenia, how many faces
That are adored in court, borrow these helps,
[_Paints the cheeks._
And pass for excellence, when the better part
Of them are like to this. Your mouth smells sour, too,
But here is that shall take away the scent,
A precious antidote old ladies use
When they would kiss, knowing their gums are rotten.
[_Paints the lips._
These hands, too, that disdained to take a touch
From any lip whose owner writ not lord,
Are now but as the coarsest earth.

_Duke of Milan._

* * * * *

_Lovell._ If then you may be won to make me happy,
But join your lips to mine, and that shall be
A solemn contract.

_Lady Allworthy._ I were blind to my own good
Should I refuse it [_kisses him_]; yet, my lord, receive me
As such a one, the study of whose whole life
Shall know no other object but to please you.

_New Way to Pay Old Debts._

FORD.

She never used, my lord,
A second means, but kissed the letter first,
O’erlooked the superscription, then let fall
Some amorous drops, kissed it again, talked to it
Twenty times over, set it to her mouth,
Then gave it to me, then snatched it back again,
Then cried, “Oh, my poor heart!” and, in an instant,
“Commend my truth and secrecy.” Such medley
Of passion yet I never saw in woman.

_Lady’s Trial._

* * * * *