Loves Courtship.

KIsse lovely Celia and be kind,
Let my desires freedome find,
Sit thee downe,
And we will make the Gods confesse,
Mortals enjoy some happines.

Mars would disdaine his Mistris charmes,
If he beheld thee in my armes,
And descend:
Thee his mortall Queene to make,
Or live as mortall for thy sake.

Venus must loose her title now,
And leave to brag of Cupid's bow,
Silly Queene.
Shee hath but one, but I can spie,
…en … Cupids in thy eye.

Nor may the sunne behold our blisse,
For sure thy eyes doe dazle his
If thou feare.
That he'll betray thee with his light,
Let me ecclipse thee from his sight.

And while I shade thee from his eye,
Oh let me heare thee gently cry,
Celia yeelds.
Maids often loose their Maidenhead,
Ere they set soote in Nuptiall bed.