Come away, come sweet Loue, The golden morning wasts: While the Sunne from his Sphere His fierie arrowes casts, (15) Making all the shadowes flie, Playing, staying in the Groaue: To entertaine the stealth of loue. Thither sweet Loue let vs hieFlying, dying in desire: (20) Wing’d with sweet hopes and heauenly fire.
Come away, come sweet Loue, Doo not in vaine adiorne +Beauties grace that should rise Like to the naked morne. (25) Lillies on the Riuers side, And faire Cyprian + flowers new blowne, Desire no beauties but their owne. Ornament is Nurse of pride, Pleasure, measure, Loues delight: (30) Hast then sweet Loue our wished flight.
¶ Another of his Cinthia. +
A Way with these selfe-louing-Lads, Whom Cupids arrowe neuer glads. Away poore soules that sigh and weepe, In loue of them that lie and sleepe, (5) For Cupid is a Meadow God: And forceth none to kisse the rod.