The Flea

• Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
• How little that which thou deny’st me is;
• It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
• And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
• Thou know’st that this cannot be said
• A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead;
• Yet this enjoys before it woo,
• And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
• And this, alas, is more than we would do.
•  
• Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
• Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
• This flea is you and I, and this
• Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
• Though parents grudge, and you, w’are met,
• And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
• Though use make you apt to kill me,
• Let not to that, self-murder added be,
• And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
•  
• Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
• Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
• Wherein could this flea guilty be,
• Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
• Yet thou triumph’st and say’st that thou
• Find’st not thyself, nor me the weaker now;
• ’Tis true, then learn how false fears be:
• Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me,
• Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.