Astrophil and Stella, Sonnet 80
Sweet swelling lip, well may’st thou swell in pride,
Since
best wits think it wit thee
to admire;
Nature’s
praise, virtue’s stall,
Cupid’s cold fire,
Whence words, not words but heavenly graces slide;
The new Parnassus, where the Muses bide,
Sweetener of
music, wisdom’s
beautifier;
Breather
of life, and fastener of
desire,
Where beauty’s blush in honour’s grain is dyed.
Thus
much my heart compelled my
mouth to say,
But
now, spite of my heart, my
mouth will stay,
Loathing all lies, doubting this flattery is,
And
no spur can
his resty race renew,
Without
how far this praise is
short of you,
Sweet lip, you teach my mouth with one sweet kiss.