Straight down under a shadow for weariness they lie
With pleasant dalliance, hand knit with arm in arm;
Now close, now set aloof, they gaze with an equal eye,
Changing kisses alike; straight with a false alarm,
Mocking kisses alike, pout with a lovely lip.
Thus drowned with jollities, their merry days do slip.
But stay! now I discern they go on a pilgrimage
Towards LOVE's holy land, fair Paphos or Cyprus.
Such devotion is meet for a blithesome age;
With sweet youth, it agrees well to be amorous.
Let old angry fathers lurk in an hermitage:
Come, we'll associate this jolly pilgrimage!
Canto tertio.
My love bound me with a kiss
That I should no longer stay:
When I felt so sweet a bliss,
I had less power to pass away.
Alas! that women do not know,
Kisses make men loth to go.
Canto quarto.
<poem> Love whets the dullest wits, his plagues be such: But makes the wise by pleasing, dote as much. So wit is purchased by this dire disease. O let me dote! so LOVE be bent to please,
- <poem>
