_Rodope._ Nay had I thine my _Dorida_, I would them so bestow, As that the winde vpon my way, Might backward make them flow, So should it in its greatst excesse Turne to becalmed ayre, And quite forget all boistrousnesse To play with euery hayre. _Dorida._ To me like thine had nature giuen, A Brow, so Archt, so cleere, 50 A Front, wherein so much of heauen Doth to each eye appeare, The world should see, I would strike dead The Milky Way that's now, And say that Nectar _Hebe_ shed Fell all vpon my Brow. _Rodope._ O had I eyes like _Doridaes_, I would inchant the day And make the Sunne to stand at gaze, Till he forget his way: 60 And cause his Sister _Queene of Streames_, When so I list by night; By her much blushing at my Beames T' eclipse her borrowed light. _Dorida._ Had I a Cheeke like _Rodopes_, In midst of which doth stand, A Groue of Roses, such as these, In such a snowy land: I would then make the Lilly which we now So much for whitenesse name, 70 As drooping downe the head to bow, And die for very shame. _Rodope._ Had I a bosome like to thine, When I it pleas'd to show, T' what part o' th' Skie I would incline I would make th' Etheriall bowe, My swannish breast brancht all with blew, In brauery like the spring: In Winter to the generall view Full Summer forth should bring. 80 _Dorida._ Had I a body like my deare, Were I so straight so tall, O, if so broad my shoulders were, Had I a waste so small; I would challenge the proud Queene of loue To yeeld to me for shape, And I should feare that _Mars_ or _Iove_ Would venter for my rape. _Rodope._ Had I a hand like thee my Gerle, (This hand O let me kisse) 90 These Ivory Arrowes pyl'd with pearle, Had I a hand like this; I would not doubt at all to make, Each finger of my hand To taske swift _Mercury_ to take With his inchanting wand. _Dorida._ Had I a Theigh like Rodopes; Which twas my chance to viewe, When lying on yon banck at ease, The wind thy skirt vp blew, 100 I would say it were a columne wrought To some intent Diuine, And for our chaste _Diana_ sought, A pillar for her shryne. _Rodope._ Had I a Leg but like to thine That were so neat, so cleane, A swelling Calfe, a Small so fine, An Ankle, round and leane, I would tell nature she doth misse Her old skill; and maintaine, 110 She shewd her master peece in this, Not to be done againe.