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Home  »  The Oxford Book of English Verse  »  116. To His Coy Love

Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.

Michael Drayton. 1563–1631

116. To His Coy Love

I PRAY thee, leave, love me no more, 
  Call home the heart you gave me! 
I but in vain that saint adore 
  That can but will not save me. 
These poor half-kisses kill me quite—         5
  Was ever man thus servèd? 
Amidst an ocean of delight 
  For pleasure to be starvèd? 
 
Show me no more those snowy breasts 
  With azure riverets branchèd,  10
Where, whilst mine eye with plenty feasts, 
  Yet is my thirst not stanchèd; 
O Tantalus, thy pains ne’er tell! 
  By me thou art prevented: 
‘Tis nothing to be plagued in Hell,  15
  But thus in Heaven tormented. 
 
Clip me no more in those dear arms, 
  Nor thy life’s comfort call me, 
O these are but too powerful charms, 
  And do but more enthral me!  20
But see how patient I am grown 
  In all this coil about thee: 
Come, nice thing, let my heart alone, 
  I cannot live without thee!