Rosalynd's Madrigal

And let thy bower my bosom be;
Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee,
O Cupid! so thou pity me,
Spare not, but play thee!

Phillis

OVE guards the roses of thy lips,
And flies about them like a bee:

If I approach he forward skips,
And if I kiss he stingeth me.

Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,

And sleeps within their pretty shine; And if I look the boy will lour,

And from their orbs shoots shafts divine.

Love works thy heart within his fire, And in my tears doth firm the

same;

And if I tempt it will retire,

And of my plaints doth make a

game.

Phillis

Love! let me cull her choicest flowers,
And pity me, and calm her eye!
Make soft her heart! dissolve her lours!
Then will I praise thy deity.

But if thou do not, Love! I'll truly serve her
In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.