Ah! who can see those fruites of Paradise,
Celestial cherries, which so sweetly swell,
That sweetnesse selfe confinde there seemes to dwell,
And all those sweetest parts about despise?
Ah! who can see and feele no flame surprise
His hardened heart? for mee, alas! too well
I know their force, and how they doe excell:
Now burne I through desire, now doe I freeze;
I die, deare life, vnlesse to mee bee giuen
As many kisses as the spring hath flowrs,
Or as the siluer drops of Iris' showrs,
Or as the starres in all-embracing heauen;
And if, displeas'd, yee of the matche complaine,
Yee shall haue leaue to take them backe againe.