15Love gives her youth, which is the reason why
Youths, for her sake, some wither and some die.
Poore Death can nothing give; yet, for her sake,
Still in her turne, he doth a Lover take:
And if Death should prove false, she feares him not;
20Our Muses, to redeeme her she hath got.
That fatall night wee last kiss'd, I thus pray'd,
Or rather, thus despair'd; I should have said:
Kisses, and yet despaire? The forbid tree
Did promise (and deceive) no more then shee.