Thrice fairer than myself, . . . . . . the field's chief flower, sweet above compare, stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man: Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed if thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed a thousand honey secrets shalt thou know. Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses, and being set, I'll smother thee with kisses and yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety, but rather famish them amid their plenty. Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty."