Love guards the roses of thy lips
And flies about them like a bee；
If I approach he forward skips，
And if I kiss he stingeth me.
Love in thine eyes doth build his bower，
And sleeps within their pretty shine；
And if I look the boy will lower，
And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.
Love works thy heart within his fire，
And in my tears doth firm the same；
And if I tempt it will retire，
And of my plaints doth make a game.
Love， let me cull her choicest flowers；
And pity me， and calm her eye；
Make soft her heart， dissolve her lowers
Then will I praise thy deity.
But if thou do not， Love， I‘ll truly serve her
In spite of thee， and by firm faith deserve her.