Whatever midnight hath been here,
10The moonshine of your light can clear.
Nymph. My moon of an eclipse is 'fraid,
If thou shouldst interpose thy shade.
Boy. Yet one thing, Sweetheart, I will ask;
Take me for a new-fashioned mask.
Nymph. Yes, but my bargain shall be this,
I'll throw my mask off when I kiss.
Boy. Our curled embraces shall delight
To checker limbs with black and white.