How eas'ly wert thou chained
Harden now thy tired heart
O what unhoped-for sweet supply
Where she her sacred bower
Fain would I my love disclose
Give beauty all her right
O, dear, that I with thee might live
Good men, show if you can tell
What harvest half so sweet is
The peaceful western wind
There is none, O none but you
Pined I am, and like to die
So many loves have I neglected
Though your strangeness frets my heart
Come away, armed with love's delights
Come, you pretty false-eyed wanton
Where shall I refuge seek.
