SAy, Cupid, since thou wings so swift dost bear; Within my heart, alone, why dost thou lie? Why dost not seek to lodge some other where; And to some other place, why dost not hie? Go unto her, who hath the lily breast! Who though she hates me; yet I love her best. If her, to entertain thee thou shalt find; It is a sign she hateth me no more. Straight then, return again; and show her mind To my desire! who for this news longs sore. Then, prithee, go! No longer ling'ring stay! Lest, when thou wouldst, thou canst not go thy way.
XXIV.
ON quicksedge wrought with lovely eglantine, My Laura laid her handkercher to dry; Which had before snow-white ywashed been. But after, when she called to memory, That long 'twould be before, and very late, Ere sun could do, as would her glistering eyes: She cast from them such sparkling glances straight, And with such force, in such a strangy guise, As suddenly, and in one selfsame time, She dried her cloth; but burnt this heart of mine.
XXV.