Emotion begone; I will find you, anon!
Come when I've use for your unheard talents.
I say again away! Trouble conscience
No more with your mute looks of steal; were
It not for your father's sake I'd break that
Heart of steal just to prove that I am
No more a man of poetry than Leer
A peasant. Why do you stare into my
eyes of hate? As though your thoughts could keep
At bay my hearts intents, sway my very
Core, as though to gain all control; nay, such
A thing is not at all good! Therefore be
Gone with you, lest I should send you packing!
Why did you ever come so near as this?
Why did you not fear my evil designs?
Why should you come to hear my hiss,
To overcome such tears with rhymes?
There are those more fitted for lovers,
Loves that would take you up into heavens
Blissful shade, shall I turn on what I am?
Shall I be turned from Benedict's wrathful
Warlike behavior for the likes of you?
No! For though the world must be peopled, I
Shall not partake in such practice. It is,
After all, a barbaric practice of
Men, often taken by an act of force,
No such thing will I do to you! Although
Your voice is soft, and your skin fair, your eyes
Do alight upon my words as though they
Held life itself; But perhaps that is mere
Jealousy, the desire to usurp
My words as your own: is that not how all
Women gain voice in the world, through the hearts
Of men turned flat and stale by the mush
Of lovers quarrels. Do not stare so much
As this: I'll admit you fair as any
Maid in all the land if you but leave me
Here, alone to stand. Now for your smile,
Yes you must boast of your triumph, that I,
A monster and tyrant stooped to pick up
Words of fancy for a silly mute. Yet,
Why is it now that for a moment, oh,
That silly look, my fun foe fancy fop,
Became a star upon your brow; progress
You would say, for after all, I admit,
That up until a moment past noon I thought
That you were nothing more than a common
Toad, someone loathsome, just a load of dung
Heaped in my way by the gatekeeper, a mere
Prank; for some old injury no doubt! Ha!
Your father's doing I suppose for debts to
Numerous and untold. His merciful
Hand has strings no doubt, you and a ring! Still,
You are still the little maid I took you
For when we first met, I think, I'm sure. Yet
Strangely now I see someone quite different
In front of me. Were you not the same as
Before, just ten minutes ago? How then
Do you account for this transformation,
This heinous act of womanly guile
By which you have accomplished this strange feat?
No doubt meant to steal my heart from me, well!
See if you can, for I'll steel my heart so
Strongly against such petty perfumes of
Love that you'll think I have some bottom, and!
So grow bored of my lacking mystery!
Why do you insist? Have you no other
Tasks that you sit here at my feet, your eyes
Stuck on mine like nails to the hoof of some
Horse shoe? Now look what you've done, I now speak
In babble about anything just to
Convince you that I do not, in plain speech,
I do not love you! Or do you find me
Not convincing that you should feign a frown,
I know that is a smile in disguise,
I hate such painted looks and I despise
What they impose on spiteful heart! I
Am now tired with excuses; so,
If you'll just leave my babbling head here,
Come back in half an hour to find me dead,
Mourn over me and allow my spirit
Peace of mind so we can be done with it
All, I would forever be in your debt!
Oh will not be fooled by such a show
Of protest that you must make fun of me
And jest at my expression? Next I know
You'll tell me of how my hair is not combed,
You'll scorn my yellow teeth, throw sot like words
Upon my face to make further fun of me,
Still I will not be move to be so blind
As he that is in love, how unkind do you
Think me? Shall I lie to you? Break you down
With words uncouth? Must I beat you away
With a stick? Or will a sling made from the
Depths of the woods, the likes which King David
Was known to use when he defeated the
Giant Goliath, will this and a sone
Do to keep you away from me? By Jove,
Like the tide that does not stop, flows again
And again over the shores with raging
Tenacity, driven by the moon's great
Invisible ray of power, like this
Powerful mysterious force does she
Rage over my dispositions! I am
Like the sand on the shore, pushed about for
Ever more by the tides rhythmic beating;
So great is this woman's persistence. Well,
Then by all the powers that be perhaps
I have finally found my match. One who
Will not be tamed by insults; injury
Of great disdain could not keep her back, nor
Threat of beating; if she believed my words,
For I could never beat a woman in
All of my life for fear I should rue the
Day. Then if this all be true as is, I
May accept her hand. As she does live
I'll abjure from vice, to live in her comp
Any; provided mice be not at home,
Else we shall have excuse for a cat, no
Cats! But I see even small jests do now
Make her impatient; all right! I relent!
Lean in upon me my love; fish eggs! How
Can it be that with such ease you have so
Penetrated my heart of steal? How can
You see through our bitter start to a new
Life of love and bliss? You shake your head as
Though to say it were a mystery, sure.
That I should trade discontentment for a kiss
Is surely the strangest thing I've done. Yet,
Shall we men fight on the battle field of
War, strike at our enemies until scores
Of them be dust at our feet and breathe air
No more, for the sake of living alone?
If that's what other men choose I suppose
I now see, why she did so pity me.
Womanly Guile, (C) Luke Bennette, 2012
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