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- # VENVS AND ADONIS.
She bowes her head, the new-fprong floure to fmel,
Comparing it to her Adonis breath,
And saies within her bofome it shall dwell,
Since he himselfe is reft from her by death;
She crop's the ftalke, and in the breach appears,
Green-dropping fap, which she coöpares to teares.
Poore floure (quoth she) this was thy fathers guise,
Sweet issue of a more sweet fmelling fire,
For euerie little griefe to wet his eies,
To grow vnto himfelfe was his desire;
And so tis thine, but know it is as good,
To wither in my breft, as in his blood.
Here was thy fathers bed, here in my breft,
Thou art the next of blood, and tis thy right.
Lo in this hollow cradle take thy reft,
My throbbing hart shall rock thee day and night;
There shall not be one minute in an houre,
VVherein I wil not kisse my sweet loues floure.
Thus weary of the world, away she hies,
And yokes her filuer doues, by whose swift aide,
Thee mistresse mounted through the emptie skies,
In her light chariot, quickly is conuaide,
Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen,
Meanes to immure her felfe, and not be seen.
FINIS
II. 1171—1194
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