Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/80

60 Meet with her furrow'd chin, and both together Hem in her lips, as dry as good whit-leather: One wall-eye she shall have, for that's a sign In other beasts the best: why not in mine? Her neck I'll have to be pure jet at least, With yellow spots enamell'd; and her breast, Like a grasshopper's wing, both thin and lean, Not to be toucht for dirt, unless swept clean: As for her belly, 'tis no matter, so There be a belly, and Yet, if you will, let it be something high, And always let there be a timpany. But soft! where am I now? here I should stride, Lest I fall in, the place must be so wide, And pass unto her thighs, which shall be just Like to an ant's that's scraping in the dust: Into her legs I'd have love's issues fall, And all her calf into a gouty small: Her feet both thick and eagle-like display'd, The symptoms of a comely, handsome maid. As for her parts behind, I ask no more: If they but answer those that are before, I have my utmost wish; and, having so, Judge whether I am happy, yea or no.

think'st I flatter, when thy praise I tell, But thou dost all hyperboles excel; For I am sure thou art no mortal creature, But a divine one, thron'd in human feature. Thy piety is such, that heaven by merit, If ever any did, thou shouldst inherit: Thy modesty is such, that, hadst thou been Tempted as Eve, thou wouldst have shunn'd her sin: So lovely fair thou art, that sure Dame Nature Meant thee the pattern of the female creature: Besides all this, thy flowing wit is such, That were it not in thee, 't had been too much For woman-kind: should envy look thee o'er, It would confess thus much, if not much more. I love thee well, yet wish some bad in thee; For sure I am thou art too good for me.