Verse > Anthologies > Harvard Classics > English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray
   English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics.  1909–14.
61. Rosalind’s Madrigal
Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)
LOVE in my bosom like a bee
      Doth suck his sweet:
Now with his wings he plays with me,
      Now with his feet.
Within mine eyes he makes his nest,        5
His bed amidst my tender breast;
My kisses are his daily feast
And yet he robs me of my rest:
      Ah! wanton, will ye?
And if I sleep, then percheth he        10
      With pretty flight,
And makes his pillow of my knee
      The livelong night.
Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;
He music plays if so I sing,        15
He lends me every lovely thing,
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting:
      Whist, wanton, still ye!
Else I with roses every day
      Will whip you hence,        20
And bind you, when you long to play,
      For your offence.
I’ll shut mine eyes to keep you in;
I’ll make you fast it for your sin;
I’ll count your power not worth a pin.        25
—Alas! what hereby shall I win
      If he gainsay me?
What if I beat the wanton boy
      With many a rod?
He will repay me with annoy,        30
      Because a god.
Then sit thou safely on my knee;
Then let thy bower my bosom be;
Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee;
O Cupid, so thou pity me,        35
      Spare not, but play thee!


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