For Dorus
Why, Nais, stand ye nice,
Like to a well-wrought stone,
When Dorus would you kisse?
Denie him not that blisse,
He's but a child, old men be children twice,
And even a toothlesse one;
And when his lips yours touch in that delight,
Ye need not feare he will those cherries bite.
Like to a well-wrought stone,
When Dorus would you kisse?
Denie him not that blisse,
He's but a child, old men be children twice,
And even a toothlesse one;
And when his lips yours touch in that delight,
Ye need not feare he will those cherries bite.
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