The Beare of Love

IN woods and desart Bounds
A Beast abroad doth Roame,
So loving Sweetnesse and the honey Combe,
It doth despise the armes of Bees and wounds▪
I by like pleasure led▪
To prove what Heavens did place
Of sweet on you… faire face,
Whilst there with I am fed,
Rest carelesse (Beare of Love) of hellish smart,
And how those Eyes afflict and wound my Heart.