No conqu’ring king hath joy more fair than this.’
35
Thus spake at dawn to the fresh-open’d rose
The courting-bird, ‘Cease thy so empty vaunt:
Comelier than thou full many each day unclose.’
She laughed:—‘In truth I care not, ne’ertheless
Strange lover thou, to use such harsh address:
No gallant vexeth beauty with such taunt.
Or ever thou receive this ruby red,
This wine, first must thy pearl’d disdainfulness