Orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green light.

Where the remote Bermudas ride, In th' ocean's bosom unespied.

And all the way, to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept the time.

Therefore the love which us doth bind, But Fate so enviously debars, Is the conjunction of the mind, And opposition of the stars.

The Mediterranean has the color of mackerel, changeable I mean. You don't always know if it is green or violet, you can't even say it's blue, because the next …

The ladies of St. James's! They're painted to the eyes; Their white it stays forever Their red it never dies: But Phillida, my Phillida! Her color comes and go…

I care not for these ladies, That must be wooed and prayed; Give me kind Amaryllis, The wanton country maid. Nature art disdaineth; Her beauty is her own.