Biancha, let
Me pay the debt
I owe thee for a kiss
Thou lend'st to me;
And I to thee
Will render ten for this.
If thou wilt say,
Ten will not pay
For that so rich a one;
I'll clear the sum,
If it will come
Unto a million.
He must of right,
To th' utmost mite,
Make payment for his pleasure,
(By this I guess)
Of happiness
Who has a little measure.
More verses by Robert Herrick
- To His Peculiar Friend, Mr John Wicks
- His Content In The Country
- An Ode To Sir Clipsby Crew
- His Winding-Sheet
- Pray And Prosper