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The speaker quits talking about his thirst, and talks about his relationship with the girl. He sends her a "rosy wreath" to show that he likes her. He views Celia in a sort of divine or enchanted figure that can keep things alive that will normally wither and die
His desire for a drink is really not a drink, it is a kiss in it instead of the wine. His thirst is not bodily, but more of a thirst from the soul. Since his thirst is from the soul, it requires something more "divine" than "wine" to satisfy it.
The Poem:
Here it seems like his plan isn't quite working out. The speaker basically says, "rather than keep the wreath to see if it wouldn't die, she sent it back to me." But she breathed on it before she sent it back.
The poem opens with the speaker addressing
a woman, assuming her name is Celia because of the title. He is telling her that she doesn't have to hold up a beer to say cheers, but only use her eyes. He also says he will pledge to her also by his eyes.
He says that even if he could drink from Jove's cup he wouldn't, he would rather have Celia's cup (thine).
It could also mean he would rather have Celia's nectar of love rather than Jove's nectar.
The speaker knows the woman must have breathed on it "since" when it grows it smells, not like a wreath but of flowers, like Celia. The speakers wish from line 12 "It could not withered be," because it still grows.
Ben Jonson was born on June 11, 1572 and died on August 6, 1637. He was an English Renaissance dramatist, poet and actor.
If she does not want to drink she can simply leave a kiss in the cup, that it is not the wine he is looking for.
Drink to me only with thine eyes
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine:
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered be
But thou thereon did'st only breathe
And sent'st it back to me:
Since, when it grows and smells, I swear,
Not of itself but thee.