Now will I a lover be,
Love himself commanded me.
Full at first of stubborn pride,
To submit, my soul denide:
He his Quiver takes and Bow,
Bids defiance, forth I go,
Arm'd with spear and shield; we meet:
On he charges, I retreat:
Till perceiving in the fight
He had wasted every flight,
Into me, with fury hot,
Like a dart himself he shot,
And my cold heart melts: my shield
Uselesse, no defence could yield;
For what boots an outward skreen
When (alas) the fights within?