FOURTH SONG.
Only joy! now here you are,
Fit to hear and ease my care.
Let my whispering voice obtain
Sweet reward for sharpest pain.
Take me to thee, and thee to me!
No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be.
Night hath closed all in her cloak,
Twinkling stars love thoughts provoke,
Danger hence, good care doth keep;
JEALOUSY itself doth sleep.
Take me to thee, and thee to me!
No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be.
Better place no wit can find,
CUPID'S yoke to loose or bind;
These sweet flowers on fine bed too,
Us in their best language woo.
Take me to thee, and thee to me!
No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be.
This small light the moon bestows,
Serves thy beams but to disclose:
So to raise my hap more high.
Fear not else! none can us spy.
Take me to thee, and thee to me!
No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be.
