- 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.
- Plead, Sleep, my cause, and make her soft like thee, That she in peace may wake and pity me.
- Shall I come, sweet Love, to thee, When the ev'ning beams are set?
- The man whose silent days In harmless joys are spent, Whom hopes cannot delude, Nor sorrow discontent: That man needs neither towers Nor armour for defence, Nor secret vaults to fly From thunder's violence.
- There is a garden in her face Where roses and white lilies blow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow; There cherries grow that none may buy, Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.