MAD

SWeet Rose whence is this hue
Which doth all hues excell?
Whence this most fragrant smell?
And whence this forme and gracing grace in you?
In faire Paestanas fields perhaps you grew,
Or Hyblas Hills you bred,
Or odoriferous Ennas Plaines you fed,
Or Tmolus, or where Bore yong Adon slew;
Or hath the Queen of Love you died of new
In that deare Bloud, which makes you look so red?
No, none of those, but Cause more high you blist,
My Ladies Brest you bore, her Lips you Kist.