| Albeit a thousand foemen To work my ruin try |
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| Friends, 'tis best that, in the rosetime, After ease and pleasance strain we |
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| Lovers all to thine enjoyment Since thy beauty did invite |
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| More goodly than pleasance and mirth In garden and Spring what is? |
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| My heart of the world is weary And all that is therein |
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| When hand to her tress I clap, away She in heat goeth |
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| Except wine from our mind the thought Of the heart's care shall carry |
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| If my heart of the musk-scented grapejuice Incline me to drink, 'tis meet |
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| 'Tis Hallowe'en and shut the book of parting |
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| So but it were vouchsafed me To win unto thy street |
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