Classic Poem

Cypassis, that a thousand ways trimm'st hair,
Worthy to kemb none but a goddess fair,
Our pleasant scapes show thee no clown to be,
Apt to thy mistress, but more apt to me.
Who that our bodies were compress'd bewray'd?
Whence knows Corinna that with thee I play'd?
Yet blush'd I not, nor us'd I any saying
That might be urg'd to witness our false playing.
What if a man with bondwomen offend,
To prove him foolish did I e'er contend?
Achilles burn'd with face of captive Briseis,
Great Agamemnon lov'd his servant Chryseis.
Greater than these myself I not esteem;
What graced kings, in me no shame I deem.
But when on thee her angry eyes did rush,
In both thy cheeks she did perceive thee blush.
But being present, might that work the best,
By Venus' deity how did I protest!
Thou, goddess, dost command a warm south blast
My false oaths in Carpathian seas to cast.
For which good turn by sweet reward repay,
Let me lie with thee, brown Cypass, today.
Ungrate, why feign'st new fears, and dost refuse?
Well mayst thou one thing for thy mistress use.
If thou deniest, fool, I'll our deeds express,
And as a traitor mine own fault confess,
Telling thy mistress where I was with thee,
How oft, and by what means we did agree.