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(From Poetical Varieties, 1637)
ARABELLA. Dear Castadorus, let me rise, | |
| Aurora ’gins to jeer me: | |
| She tells me I do wantonise. | |
| CASTADORUS. I prithee, sweet, lie near me. | |
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| Let red Aurora blush, my dear, | 5 |
| And Phoebus laughing follow; | |
| Thou only art Aurora here, | |
| Let me be thy Apollo. | |
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| It is to envy at our bliss | |
| That they do rise before us: | 10 |
| Is there such hurt in this or this? | |
| ARABELLA. Nay, fie! why, Castadorus! | |
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| CASTADORUS. What, Arabella, can one night | |
| Of wanton dalliance tire you? | |
| I could be ever if I might: | 15 |
| One hour let me desire you. | |
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| ARABELLA. Fie, fie, you hurt me; let me go! | |
| If you so roughly use me, | |
| What can I say or think of you. | |
| CASTADORUS. I prithee, Love, excuse me. | 20 |
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| Thy beauty and my love defend | |
| I should ungently move thee: | |
| ’Tis kisses sweet that I intend: | |
| Is it not I that love thee? | |
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| ARABELLA. I do confess it is, but then— | 25 |
| Since you do so importune | |
| That I should once lie down again— | |
| Vouchsafe to draw the curtain. | |
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| Aurora and Apollo, too, | |
| May visit silent fields; | 30 |
| By my consent they ne’er shall know | |
| The bliss our pleasure yields. | |
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