How many eyes poore Love hast thou to guard
Thee, from thy most desired wish, and end?
Is itt because some say thou'art blind, that bard
From sight, thou should'st noe hapines attend?

Who blame thee soe, smale justice can pretend
Since 'twixt thee, and the sunn noe question hard
Can bee, his sight butt outward, thou canst bend
The hart, and guide itt freely; thus unbard

Art thou, while wee both blind, and bold oft dare
Accuse thee of the harmes, our selves should find
Who led with folly, and by rashnes blind
Thy sacred powre, doe with a childs compare.

Yett Love this boldnes pardon: for admire
Thee sure wee must, or bee borne without fire.