"Fair Iris and her swain"
di John Dryden (1631-1700)

Fair Iris and her swain,
Were in a shady bow'r,
Where Thyrsis long in vain
Had sought the happy hour.
At length his hand advancing
Upon her snowy breast,
He said: "Oh kiss me longer,
And longer yet, and longer,
If you will make me blest'.
An easy yielding maid,
By trusting is undone;
Our sex is oft betrayed
by granting love too soon.
If you desire to gain me,
Your suff'rings to redress,
Prepare to love me longer,
Before you shall posess.

The little care you show
Of all my sorrows past,
Makes death appear too slow,
And life too long to last.
Fair Iris, kiss me kindly,
In pity of my fate,
and kindly still, and kindly
Before it is too late.
You fondly court your bliss,
And no advances make,
'Tis not for maids to give,
But 'tis for men to take:
So you may kiss me kindly,
And I will not rebel;
But do not kiss and tell
No never kiss and tell.

And may I kiss you kindly?
Yes, you may kiss me kindly,
And you will not rebel?
And I will not rebel
But do not kiss and tell.

Thus at the height we love and live,
And fear not to be poor;
We give and we give,
Till we can give no more.
But what today will take away,
Tomorrow will restore.