Drink to me, only, with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kisse but in the cup,
And Ile not look for wine.
The thirst, that from the soule doth rise,
Doth aske a drink divine:
But might I of Jove's Nectar sup,
I would not change for thine....
|
Still to be neat, still to be drest, Give me a look, give me a face, |
Consider this small dust, here in the glass, |
Drink to me, only, with thine eyes, |
See the chariot at hand here of Love, |