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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530149" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On A Lady With A Foul Breath</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Art thou alive? It cannot be,<br>There's so much Rottenness in Thee,<br>Corruption only is in Death;<br>And what's more Putrid than thy Breath?<br>Think not you Live, because you Speak,<br>For Graves such hollow Sounds can make;<br>And Respiration can't suffice,<br>For Vapours do from Caverns rise:<br>From Thee such noisom Stenches come,<br>Thy Mouth betrays thy Breast a Tomb.<br>Thy Body is a Corpse that goes,<br>By Magick rais'd from its Repose:<br>A Pestilence that walks by Day,<br>But falls at Night to Worms and Clay.<br>But I will to my Chloris run,<br>Who will not let me be undone:<br>The Sweets her Virgin-Breath contains,<br>Are fitted to remove my Pains;<br>There will I healing Nectar sip,<br>And to be sav'd, approach her Lip,<br>Tho' if I touch the matchless Dame,<br>I'm sure to burn with inward Flame.<br>Thus when I wou'd one Danger shun,<br>I'm strait upon another thrown: <br>I seek a Cure one Sore to ease,<br>Yet in that Cure's a New Disease.<br>But Love, tho' fatal, still can bless,<br>And greater Dangers hide the less;<br>I'll go where Passion bids me fly,<br>And chuse my Death, since I must Dye;<br>As Doves pursu'd by Birds of Prey,<br>Venture with milder Man to stay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Parnell">Thomas Parnell</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=530149" data-title="On A Lady With A Foul Breath de Thomas Parnell" data-description="Art thou alive? It cannot be,
There's so much Rottenness in Thee,
Corruption only is in Death;
And what's more Putrid than thy Breath?
Think not you Live, because you Speak,
For Graves such hollow Sounds can make;
And Respiration can't suffice,
Fo..."></div>
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