“To His Mistress Going to Bed” was written by the English poet John Donne, most likely between 1593 and 1596. The poem plays on the traditions of love poetry. The speaker offers elegant and elaborate compliments for his mistress, praising her beauty. But unlike other love poems of its era, “To His Mistress Going to Bed” doesn’t beat around the bush—the speaker wants to have sex with his mistress, preferably as soon as possible. As the speaker articulates his erotic desire, the poem exposes some dynamics between speaker and mistress: he not only wants to sleep with her, he also wants to possess and dominate her.
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1Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
2Until I labour, I in labour lie.
3The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
4Is tir’d with standing though he never fight.
5Off with that girdle, like heaven’s Zone glistering,
6But a far fairer world encompassing.
7Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
8That th’eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
9Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime,
10Tells me from you, that now it is bed time.
11Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
12That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
13Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,
14As when from flowery meads th’hill’s shadow steals.
15Off with that wiry Coronet and shew
16The hairy Diadem which on you doth grow:
17Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
18In this love’s hallow’d temple, this soft bed.
19In such white robes, heaven’s Angels used to be
20Received by men; Thou Angel bringst with thee
21A heaven like Mahomet’s Paradise; and though
22Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know,
23By this these Angels from an evil sprite,
24Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
25 Licence my roving hands, and let them go,
26Before, behind, between, above, below.
27O my America! my new-found-land,
28My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann’d,
29My Mine of precious stones, My Empirie,
30How blest am I in this discovering thee!
31To enter in these bonds, is to be free;
32Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
33 Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
34As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,
35To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
36Are like Atlanta’s balls, cast in men’s views,
37That when a fool’s eye lighteth on a Gem,
38His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
39Like pictures, or like books’ gay coverings made
40For lay-men, are all women thus array’d;
41Themselves are mystic books, which only we
42(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
43Must see reveal’d. Then since that I may know,
44As liberally, as to a Midwife, shew
45Thy self: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
46There is no penance due to innocence.
47 To teach thee, I am naked first; why then
48What needst thou have more covering than a man.
1Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
2Until I labour, I in labour lie.
3The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
4Is tir’d with standing though he never fight.
5Off with that girdle, like heaven’s Zone glistering,
6But a far fairer world encompassing.
7Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
8That th’eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
9Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime,
10Tells me from you, that now it is bed time.
11Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
12That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
13Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,
14As when from flowery meads th’hill’s shadow steals.
15Off with that wiry Coronet and shew
16The hairy Diadem which on you doth grow:
17Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
18In this love’s hallow’d temple, this soft bed.
19In such white robes, heaven’s Angels used to be
20Received by men; Thou Angel bringst with thee
21A heaven like Mahomet’s Paradise; and though
22Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know,
23By this these Angels from an evil sprite,
24Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
25 Licence my roving hands, and let them go,
26Before, behind, between, above, below.
27O my America! my new-found-land,
28My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann’d,
29My Mine of precious stones, My Empirie,
30How blest am I in this discovering thee!
31To enter in these bonds, is to be free;
32Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
33 Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
34As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,
35To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
36Are like Atlanta’s balls, cast in men’s views,
37That when a fool’s eye lighteth on a Gem,
38His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
39Like pictures, or like books’ gay coverings made
40For lay-men, are all women thus array’d;
41Themselves are mystic books, which only we
42(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
43Must see reveal’d. Then since that I may know,
44As liberally, as to a Midwife, shew
45Thy self: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
46There is no penance due to innocence.
47 To teach thee, I am naked first; why then
48What needst thou have more covering than a man.
Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
Is tir’d with standing though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven’s Zone glistering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
That th’eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime,
Tells me from you, that now it is bed time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th’hill’s shadow steals.
Off with that wiry Coronet and shew
The hairy Diadem which on you doth grow:
Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
In this love’s hallow’d temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes, heaven’s Angels used to be
Received by men; Thou Angel bringst with thee
A heaven like Mahomet’s Paradise;
and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know,
By this these Angels from an evil sprite,
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
Licence my roving hands, and let them go,
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America! my new-found-land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann’d,
My Mine of precious stones, My Empirie,
How blest am I in this discovering thee!
To enter in these bonds, is to be free;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,
To taste whole joys.
Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta’s balls, cast in men’s views,
That when a fool’s eye lighteth on a Gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books’ gay coverings made
For lay-men, are all women thus array’d;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
Must see reveal’d.
Then since that I may know,
As liberally, as to a Midwife, shew
Thy self: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
There is no penance due to innocence.
To teach thee, I am naked first; why then
What needst thou have more covering than a man.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
A Biography of John Donne — A detailed biography of John Donne from the Poetry Foundation.
John Donne's Erotica — An article on John Donne's erotic poetry by Carolyn Kormann.
A Brief Guide to the Metaphysical Poets — An introduction to the movement of Renaissance poets called "the metaphysicals," from the Academy of American Poets.
1633 Edition of Donne's Songs and Sonnets — Images of the first published edition of John Donne's poems—with some background about why "To His Mistress Going to Bed" wasn't included in the original edition.
"To His Mistress Going to Bed" Read Aloud — Tom O'Bedlam recites a portion of "To His Mistress Going to Bed."