Why do you doubt or stay?
I’ll taste as lightly as the bee,
That doth but touch his flower and flies away.
Once more, and, faith, I will be gone:
Can he that loves ask less than one?
Nay, you may err in this,
And all your bounty wrong:
This could be called but half a kiss;
What we’ve but once to do, we should do long.
I will but mend the last, and tell