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 kiss In 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 appear In Beauty’s throne; see now, who dares come near Those scarlet judges, threatening bloody pain! O heavenly fool, thy most kiss-worthy face Anger invests with such a lovely grace, That Anger’s self I needs must kiss again.