The Suspicion Upon His Over-much Familiarity With a Gentlewoman

And must we part, because some sayLoud is our love, and loose our play,And more than well becomes the day?Alas for pity! and for usMost innocent, and injured thus!Had we kept close, or played within,Suspicion now had been the sin,And shame had followed long ere this,T' have plagued what now unpunished is.But we, as fearless of the sun,

As faultless, will not wish undoneWhat now is done, since where no sinUnbolts the door, no shame comes in.Then, comely and most fragrant maid,Be you more wary than afraidOf these reports, because you seeThe fairest most suspected be.The common forms have no one eyeOr ear of burning jealousyTo follow them: but chiefly whereLove makes the cheek and chin a sphereTo dance and play in, trust me, thereSuspicion questions every hair.Come, you are fair, and should be seenWhile you are in your sprightful green:And what though you had been embracedBy me—were you for that unchaste?No, no! no more than is yond' moonWhich, shining in her perfect noon,In all that great and glorious light,Continues cold as is the night.Then, beauteous maid, you may retire;And as for me, my chaste desireShall move towards you, although I seeYour face no more. So live you freeFrom fame's black lips, as you from me.