(25) Loue but thy selfe, and loue thy selfe alone, For saue thy selfe, none can thy loue require: All mine thou hast, but all as good as none, My small desart must take a lower flight. Yet if thou wilt vouchsafe my heart such blisse, (30) Accept it for thy prisoner as it is.
¶ Colin the enamoured Sheepheard, singeth this
passion of loue. +
O Gentle Loue, vngentle for thy deede, thou makest my hart, a bloodie marke, With piercing shot to bleede.
(5) Shoote soft sweet Loue, for feare thou shoote amisse, for feare too keene, thy arrowes beene: And hit the heart, where my beloued is.