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.

© Robert Greene