with such excesse,
Sweares and forsweares, denies and doth confesse:
Then doth he touch her lips, Natures rich treasure,
And musing thinks which is the greatest pleasure
To kisse or see; for to resolue which doubt,
Againe he kisses, whence comes stealing out
So sweet a breath as doth confound his sence;
For rarest obiects hurt with excellence:
Then doth he seise her hand with softest straine,
Whose moist rebound doth easily detaine
A willing guest, who purposely could wish
Noother food, but such a well-grac't dish.
Whiles thus poore _Philos_ kisses, feeles and sees,
Heauen-staining _Licia_ opes her sparkling eyes,
And askt the hopelesse Louer, if mornes eye
Had out-stript night. _Philos_ made answer, I.
And thus the Louer did continuallie:
For why, such lustre glided from her eie,
Which darkt the Sun, whose glory all behold,
So that she knew not day, till some man told.
Which office she to _Philos_ had assign'd,
Because she had him alwayes most in mind:
Which had he knowne, he would not so haue spent
The restlesse nights in drery languishment,
Tumbling and tossing in his lothsome bed,
To flie from griefe, yet that still followed.
Then rising vp, and running here and there,
As if he could outrun or lose his care;
But being vp, and finding no reliefe,
Lookt in his heart, and there he found out griefe.
How cam'st thou hither (then amaine he cries)
To kil my heart? Griefe answerd, Through his eyes.
Mine eyes (quoth he) subornd to murder me?
Well, for their treason they no more shall see.
With that a floud of teeres gush out amaine;
But griefe sends sighs to beat them backe againe:
So that the hurt he meant to do his eies,
Heart-murdring griefe resists, and it denies.
Whereat amazd, as one bereft of sence,
His eies fixt fast on her, as if from thence
His soule had gone, he cri'd: oh, let this moue,
Loue me for pitie, or pitie me for loue.
Though I am blacke, yet do me not despise,
Loue looks as sweet in blacke as faire mens eies.
The world may yeeld one fairer to your view;
Not all the world fairer in loue to you.
A iewell dropt in mire to sight ilfauoured,
Now, as before, in worth is valued;
An orient pearle hung in an Indians eare,
Receiues no blemish, but doth shew more faire;
One Diamond, compared with another,
Darks his bright lustre, & their worth doth smother;
Where poised with a thing of light estee