Thou wouldst sigh thy selfe to ayre:
Fearing to create this one,
Nature had her selfe undone.
But if you when this you heare
Fall downe murdered through your eare,
Begge of Jove that you may have
In her cheeke a dimpled grave.
Lilly, Rose, and Violet,
Shall the perfum'd Hearse beset
While a beauteous sheet of Lawne,