He
Say no more, sweet, say no more!
She
Love trusts; and that’s enough, my dear.
Trust wins through love; whereof, my dear,
Love holds through trust: and love, my dear,
Is—all my life and lore.
He
Come, pay me or I’ll scold you.—
Give me the kiss you owe.—
You run when I would hold you?
She
No! no! I say! now, no!—
How often have I told you,
You must not use me so?
He
More sweet the dusk for this is,
For lips that meet in kisses.—
Come! come! why run from blisses
As from a dreadful foe?