Epigram 37 (Chlorus was greene, when in his tendernesse,)

Chlorus was greene, when in his tendernesse,
Asbestus did contemne his littenesse.
Yet did he force his buds, and wreake his spite
Vpon his leaues before his fruite was ripe.
When thou bar'st fruite Chlorus, as little tree,
Then did Asbestus pull thy fruite from thee.
Till time drew on, which did his rage impeach,
And bare thy fruite on high, aboue his reach:
Then other meanes, by malice, he had none,
To worke reuenge, but hang himselfe thereon.