My Love, by chance, her tender finger pricked;
As, in the dark, I strivèd for a kiss:
Whose blood, I seeing, offered to have licked,
But half in anger, she refusèd this.
O that she knew the difference of the smart
'Twixt her pricked finger, and my piercèd heart!
XIX.
Philoparthen. "I pray thee, tell! What makes my heart to tremble,
When, on a sudden, I, Alcilia spy?"