And as that ground by him were conquered
155A leafie garland weares he on his head
Enchas'd with little fruits, so red and bright
That for them you would call your Loves lips white;
So, of a lone unhaunted place possest,
Did this soules second Inne, built by the guest,
160This living buried man, this quiet mandrake, rest.
XVII.
No lustfull woman came this plant to grieve,
But 'twas because there was none yet but Eve: