But ah, Desire still cryes, give me some food.
Desire, though thou mine olde companion art,
And oft so clinges to my pure Love, that I
One from the other scarcely can discry:
While each doth blowe the fier of my hart:
Now from thy fellowship I needs must part.
Venus is taught with Dians wings to flye,
I must no more in thy sweete passions lie,
Vertues golde now, must head my Cupids dart,
Service and honour wonder with delight,