Such icie kisses Anchorites that live
Secluded from the world to dead sculls give;
And those cold Maids on whom Love never spent
His flame, nor know what by desire is meant,
To their expiring Fathers such bequeath,
Snatching their fleeting spirits in that breath.
The timorous Priest doth with such fear and nice
Devotion, touch the holy sacrifice.
Fie Chariessa , whence so chang'd of late,
As to become in love a reprobate?
Quit, quit this dulnesse, fairest, and make known
A flame unto me equall with mine owne.
Shake off this frost for shame that dwells upon
Thy lips, or if it will not so be gone
Let's once more joyn our lips, and thou shalt see,
That by the flame of mine 'twill melted be.