Robert Greene

Menaphon: Doron's Eclogue

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DORON
--
Sit down, Carmela, here are cobs for kings,
--
Sloes black as jet, or like my Christmas shoes,
--
Sweet cider, which my leathern bottle brings:
--
Sit down, Carmela, let me kiss thy toes.


CARMELA
--
Ah Doron, ah my heart, thou art as white
--
As is my mother's calf or brinded cow,
--
Thine eyes are like the glow-worms in the night,
--
Thine hairs resemble thickest of the sow.

--
The lines within thy face are deep and clear,
--

Like to the furrows of my father's wain,
--

The sweat upon thy face doth oft appear
--

Like to my mother's fat and kitchen-gain.

--

Ah leave my toe, and kiss my lips, my love,
--

My lips and thine, for I have given them thee:
--

Within thy cap 'tis thou shalt wear my glove
--

At foot-ball sport thou shalt my champion be.


DORON
--

Carmela dear, even as the golden ball
--

That Venus got, such are thy goodly eyes,
--

When cherries' juice is jumbled therewithal,
--

Thy breath is like the steam of apple pies.

--

Thy lips resemble two cucumbers fair,
--

Thy teeth like to the tusks of fattest swine,
--

Thy speech is like the thunder in the air:
--

Would God thy toes, thy lips and all were mine.


CARMELA
--

Doron, what thing doth move this wishing grief?


DORON
--

'Tis Love, Carmela, ah, 'tis cruel Love.
--

That like a slave and caitiff villain thief,
--

Hath cut my throat of joy for thy behove.


CARMELA
--

Where was he born?


DORON
--

In faith I know not where;
--

But I have heard much talking of his dart.
--

Ay me, poor man, with many a trampling tear
--

I feel him wound the fore-horse of my heart.

--

What, do I love? O no, I do but talk;
--

What, shall I die for love? O no, not so;
--

What, am I dead? O no, my tongue doth walk:
--

Come, kiss, Carmela, and confound my woe.


CARMELA
--

Even with this kiss, as once my father did,
--

I seal the sweet indentures of delight;
--

Before I break my vow the Gods forbid,
--

No, not by day, nor yet by darksome night.


DORON
--

Even with this garland made of holly-hocks,
--

I cross thy brows from every shepherd's kiss;
--

Heigh ho, how glad am I to touch thy locks,
--

My frolic heart even now a free man is.

^CARMELA
--

I thank you Doron, and will think on you;
--

I love you Doron, and will wink on you,
--

I seal your charter patent with my thumbs:
--

Come, kiss and part, for fear my mother comes.

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Robert Greene