Verse > Anthologies > Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. > The Oxford Book of English Verse
Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Thomas Lodge. 1556?–1625
97. Rosalind's Madrigal
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, the 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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