Am ongst the Mirtles as I walket,
loue & my thoughts sights this inter-talket:
“tell me,” said I in deepe distresse,
“Where may I find [my sheperdesse.]

“Thou foole!” said loue, “knowes thou not this?
in eu er ye thing tha ts good shee is
in yonder tulepe goe & seeke,
there thou may find her lipp, her cheeke;

“In yonder enameled Pancye,
there thou shalt haue her curyous eye;
in bloome of peach & rosee budd,
there waue the streamers of her blood;

“In brightest Lyllyes tha t heere stand,
the emblemes of her whiter hands;
in yonder rising hill, their smells
such sweet as in her bosome dwells”

“It is trew,” said I; & therevpon
I went to plucke them one by one
to make of p ar ts a vnyon;
butt on a sudden all was gone.

W i th tha t I stopt, sayd, “loue, these bee,
fond man, resemblance-is of thee;
& as these flowers, thy Ioyes shall dye
Euen in the twinkling of an eye,

“And all thy hopes of her shall wither
Like these short sweetes soe knitt together.”