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- ON a day (alacke the day)
Loue whole month was cuer May
Spied a bloßome pasling fair,
Playing in the wanton ayre,
Through the whuer leaues the wind
All vneene gan paffage find,
That the huer (fick to death)
Wiiht himfelfe the healens breath,
Ayre (sproth he) thy cheeles may blow
Ayre, would I might triumph fo
But (alas) my hand hath fworne,
Nere to plucke thee from thy throne,
Vow (alacke) for youth vinnett,
Youth, so ape to pluck a fowet.
Thou for whome loue would fweare,
luno but an Ethoope were
And deny homfelte me loue
Turning mot tail for thy Loue.
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