Love still a boy, and oft a wanton is, br School'd only by his mother's tender eye: br What wonder then if he his lesson miss, br When for so soft a rod dear play he try? br br And yet my Star, because a sugar'd kiss br In sport I suck'd, while she asleep did lie, br Doth low'r, nay chide; nay, threat for only this: br Sweet, it was saucy Love, not humble I. br br But no 'scuse serves, she makes her wrath appear br In Beauty's throne; see now who dares come near br Those scarlet judges, threat'ning bloody pain? br br Oh heav'nly fool, thy most kiss-worthy face br Anger invests with such a lovely grace, br That Anger's self I needs must kiss again.