If Love so mistooke his aime,
Gently welcome in the flame:
They who loath'd thee, when they see
Where thou harbor'st, will love thee.
Onely I, such is my fate,
Must thee as a rivall hate,
Court her gently, learne to prove,
Nimble in the thefts of love.
Gaze on th' errors of her haire:
Touch her lip; but oh beware,