For to have lov’d him, but in part,
Save onely to have lov’d his face
For any one peculiar grace,
A foot, or leg, or lip, or eye,
I might have liv’d, where now I dye.
But I that striv’d all these to chuse,
Am now condemned all to lose.
You rurall Gods that guard the plains,
And chast’neth unjust disdains;
Oh do not censure him for this,