canopied

The crickets sing , and man’s o’erlabored sense
Repairs itself by rest . Our Tarquin thus
Did softly press the rushes ere he wakened
The chastity he wounded . — 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 . The flame o’ th’ taper
Bows toward her and would underpeep her lids
To see th’ enclosèd lights , now canopied
Under these windows , white and azure-laced
With blue of heaven’s own tinct . But my design :
To note the chamber . I will write all down .

Such and such pictures ; there the window ; such
Th’ adornment of her bed ; the arras , figures ,
Why , such and such ; and the contents o’ th’ story .

Ah , but some natural notes about her body
Above ten thousand meaner movables
Would testify t’ enrich mine inventory .
O sleep , thou ape of death , lie dull upon her ,
And be her sense but as a monument
Thus in a chapel lying . Come off , come off ;
As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard .
’Tis mine , and this will witness outwardly
As strongly as the conscience does within
To th’ madding of her lord . On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted , like the crimson drops
I’ th’ bottom of a cowslip . Here’s a voucher
Stronger than ever law could make . This secret
Will force him think I have picked the lock and ta’en
The treasure of her honor . No more . To what end ?
Why should I write this down that’s riveted ,
Screwed to my memory ? She hath been reading late
The tale of Tereus ; here the leaf’s turned down
Where Philomel gave up . I have enough .
To th’ trunk again , and shut the spring of it .
Swift , swift , you dragons of the night , that dawning
May bare the raven’s eye . I lodge in fear .
Though this a heavenly angel , hell is here .

One , two , three . Time , time !

O , she that hath a heart of that fine frame
To pay this debt of love but to a brother ,
How will she love when the rich golden shaft
Hath killed the flock of all affections else
That live in her ; when liver , brain , and heart ,
These sovereign thrones , are all supplied , and filled
Her sweet perfections with one self king !
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers !
Love thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers .