Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/34

 What they bid me? Well, this, nothing more—'Tell her this— "You are mine, I yours, though the whole world fail— Though things are not, I know there is one thing which is— Though the oars break, there's hope for us yet—hoist the sail! Oh, your heart! what's the heart? but your kiss!"

'Then she breaks, she drops down, she lies flat at your feet— Take her then!' Well, I knew it—what fools are men! Take the bee by her horns, will your honey prove sweet? Sweet is grass—will you pasture your cows in a fen? Oh, if contraries could but once meet!