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