, let me then with thy sweete lips b'inspired!
When thy lips touch my lips, my lips will turne
To corall too, and, being cold yce, will burne.

Why should thy sweete love-locke hang dangling downe,
Kissing thy girdle-stud with falling pride?
Although thy skin be white, thy haire is browne:
Oh, let not then thy haire thy beautie hide!
Cut off thy locke, and sell it for gold wier:
The purest gold is tryde in hottest fier.

Faire long-haire-wearing Absolon was kild,
Because he wore it in a braverie:
So that which gracde his beautie, Beautie spild,
Making him subject to vile slaverie,
In being hangd: a death for him too good,
That sought his owne shame and his father's blood.

Againe we read of old king Priamus,
The haplesse syre of valiant Hector slaine,
That his haire was so long and odious
In youth, that in his age it bred his paine:
For if his haire had not been halfe so long,
His life had been, and he had had no wrong.

For when his stately citie was destroyd,
That monument of great antiquitie,
When his poore hart, with griefe and sorrow cloyd,
Fled to his wife, last hope in miserie;
Pyrrhus, more hard than adamantine rockes,
Held him and halde him by his aged lockes.

These two examples by the way I show,
To prove th' indecencie of men's long haire:
Though I could tell thee of a thousand moe,
Let these suffice for thee, my lovely faire,
Whose eye's my starre, whose smiling is my sunne,
Whose love did ende before my joyes begunne.

Fond love is blinde, and so art thou, my deare,
For thou seest not my love and great desart;
Blinde love is fond, and so thou dost appeare,
For fond and blinde, thou greevst my greeving hart:
Be thou fond-blinde, blinde-fond, or one, or all,
Thou art my love, and I must be thy thrall!

Oh lend thine yvorie forehead for loves booke,
Thine eyes for candles to behold the same;
That when dim-sighted ones therein shall looke,
They may discerne that proud disdainefull dame;
Yet claspe that booke, and shut that cazement light,
Lest, th'one obscurde, the other shine too bright.

Sell thy sweet breath to th' daintie musk-ball makers,
Yet sell it so as thou mayst soone redeeme it:
Let others of thy beauty be pertakers,
Else none but Daphnis will so well esteeme i