In my Castara. Wer't not fondnesse then
T' embrace[26] the shadowes of true blisse? And when
My Paradise all flowers and fruits both breed:
To rob a barren garden for a weed?
[26] clip. 1634, 1635.
To Castara,
How happy, though in an obscure fortune.
Were we by fate throwne downe below our feare;
Could we be poore? Or question Natures care