Love guards the roses of thy lips

    And flies about them like a bee；

    If I approach he forward skips，

    And if I kiss he stingeth me.

    Love in thine eyes doth build his bower¹，

    And sleeps within their pretty shine；

    And if I look the boy will lower，

    And from their orbs² shoot shafts³ divine.

    Love works thy heart within his fire，

    And in my tears doth firm the same；

    And if I tempt⁴ it will retire，

    And of my plaints doth make a game.

    Love， let me cull⁵ her choicest flowers；

    And pity me， and calm her eye；

    Make soft her heart， dissolve her lowers

    Then will I praise thy deity⁶.

    But if thou do not， Love， I‘ll truly serve her

    In spite of thee， and by firm faith deserve her.

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