The Flea Marke but this flea, and marke in this, How little that which thou deny’st me is; It suck’d me first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea, our two bloods mingled bee; Thou know’st that this cannot be said A sinne, nor shame, nor losse of maidenhead, Yet this enjoyes before it wooe, And pamper’d swells with one blood made of two, And this, alas, is more than wee would doe. Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare, Where wee almost, yea more than maryed are. This flea is you and I, and this Our mariage bed, and mariage temple is; Though parents grudge, and you, w’are met, And cloysterd in these living walls of Jet. Though use make you…