Oh my love! Death!

Oh my love! Death!
That hath sucked the honey from thy breath
Hath had no power upon thy beauty!
Thou art not conquered!

Beauty's, beauty's ensign yet is crimson
In thy lips, and in thy cheeks
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.

Ah, dear love!
Why art thou yet so fair?

Shall I believe that unsubstantial Death is amorous?
And that the lean abhorred monster
Keeps thee here to be his paramour?

For fear of that I will stay with thee
And never from this palace of dim night depart again!

Eyes look your last!

Come, bitter conduct,
Come, unsavory guide,
Now at once run on the dashing rocks
Thy sea-sick weary bark!

Here's to my love!