Satietie our Love may kill;
Then give me but thy face and voyce,
Mine eye and eare thou canst not fill.
To make me rich (oh) be not poore,
30Give me not all, yet something lend,
So I shall still my suite commend,
And you at will doe lesse or more.
But, if to all you condescend,
My love, our sport, your Godhead end.
Song. 1635-69: no title, A10, B, HN (signed J. R.), L74 (Finis. JR), O'F, P, S96]