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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498926" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Guiltlesse Lady Imprisoned: After Penanced. Song</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.<br>Heark, faire one, how what e're here is<br> Doth laugh and sing at thy distresse;<br>Not out of hate to thy reliefe,<br> But joy t' enjoy thee, though in griefe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  II.<br>See! that which chaynes you, you chaine here;<br> The prison is thy prisoner;<br>How much thy jaylor's keeper art!<br> He bindes your hands, but you his heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  III.<br>The gyves to rase so smooth a skin,<br> Are so unto themselves within;<br>But, blest to kisse so fayre an arme,<br> Haste to be happy with that harme;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  IV.<br>And play about thy wanton wrist,<br> As if in them thou so wert drest;<br>But if too rough, too hard they presse,<br> Oh, they but closely, closely kisse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  V.<br>And as thy bare feet blesse the way,<br> The people doe not mock, but pray,<br>And call thee, as amas'd they run<br> Instead of prostitute, a nun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  VI.<br>The merry torch burnes with desire<br> To kindle the eternall fire,<br>And lightly daunces in thine eyes<br> To tunes of epithalamies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  VII.<br>The sheet's ty'd ever to thy wast,<br> How thankfull to be so imbrac't!<br>And see! thy very very bonds<br> Are bound to thee, to binde such hands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Richard+Lovelace">Richard Lovelace</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498926" data-title="A Guiltlesse Lady Imprisoned: After Penanced. Song de Richard Lovelace" data-description="I.
Heark, faire one, how what e're here is
 Doth laugh and sing at thy distresse;
Not out of hate to thy reliefe,
 But joy t' enjoy thee, though in griefe.

  II.
See! that which chaynes you, you chaine here;
 The prison is thy prisoner;
How much ..."></div>
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