XCIX: Dear one, a kiss I stole, while you did wanton a-playing

Dear one, a kiss I stole, while you did wanton a-playing,
Sweet ambrosia, love, never as honily sweet.

Dearly the deed I paid for; an hour's long misery waning
Ended, as I agoniz'd hung to the point of a cross,
Hoping vain purgation; alas! no potion of any
Tears could abate that fair angriness, youthful as you.

Hardly the sin was in act, your lips did many a falling
Drop dilute, which anon every finger away
Cleansed apace, lest still my mouth's infection abiding
Stain, like slaver abhorr'd breath'd from a foul fricatrice.

Add, that a booty to love in misery me to deliver
You did spare not, a fell worker of all agonies,
So that, again transmuted, a kiss ambrosia seeming
Sugary, turn'd to the strange harshness of harsh hellebore.

Then such dolorous end since your poor lover awaiteth,
Never a kiss will I venture, a theft any more.