There’s no Camelion red like me, Nor white, perhaps, thou’lt say, like thee; Why then that mine is farre above Thy haire, by statute I can prove; What ever there doth seem divine Is added to a Rubrick line, Which whosoever hath but read, Will grant that mine’s a lawful head. 2. [White Head.] Yet adde what thou maist, which by yeares, Crosses, troubles, cares and feares; For that kind nature gave to me In youth a white head, as you see, At which, though age it selfe repine, It ne’re shall change a haire of mine; And all shall say when I am dead, I onely had a constant head. 1. Yes faith, in that Ile condescend, That our dissention here may end, Though heads be alwaies by the eares, Yet ours shall be more noble peeres: For I avouch since I began, Under a colour all was done. Then let us mix the White and Red, And both shall make a beauteous head. 1. We mind our heads man all this time[,] And beat them both about this rime; And I confesse what gave offence Was but a haires difference. And that went too as I dare sweare In both of us against the haire; Then joyntly now for what is said Lets crave a pardon from our head. _SONNET._ Shall I think because some clouds The beauty of my Mistris shrouds, To look after another Star? Those to _Cynthia_ servants are; May the stars when I doe sue, In their anger shoot me through; Shall I shrink at stormes of rain, Or be driven back again, Or ignoble like a worm, Be a slave unto a storm? Pity he should ever tast The Spring that feareth Winters blast; Fortune and Malice then combine, Spight of either I am thine; And to be sure keep thou my heart, And let them wound my worser part, Which could they kill, yet should I bee Alive again, when pleaseth thee. _On the Flower-de-luce in ~Oxford~._ A Stranger coming to the town, Went to the _Flower-de-luce_, A place that seem’d in outward shew For honest men to use; And finding all things common there, That tended to delight, By chance upon the French disease It was his hap to light. And lest that other men should fare As he had done before, As he went forth he wrote this down Upon the utmost doore. All you that hither chance to come, Mark well ere you be in, The _Frenchmens_ arms are signs without Of _Frenchmens_ harms within. _ALDOBRANDINO, a fat Cardinal._