A new passion doth detain me:
Those kind beauties that do love,
Or those proud ones that disdain me;
This frown melts, and that smile burns me;
This to tears, that ashes turns me.
Soft fresh Virgins, not full blown,
20With their youthful sweetness take me;
Sober Matrons, that have known
Long since what these prove, awake me;
Here staid coldness I admire;