Nay more than this, I haue a Garden-plot, Wherein there wants nor hearbs, nor roots, nor flowers; (Flowers to smell, roots to eate, hearbs for the pot,) And dainty Shelters when the Welkin lowers: Sweet-smelling Beds of Lillies and of Roses, Which Rosemary banks and Lauender incloses. There growes the Gilliflowre, the Mynt, the Dayzie (Both red and white,) the blew-veynd-Violet: The purple Hyacinth, the Spyke to please thee, The scarlet dyde Carnation bleeding yet; The Sage, the Sauery, and sweet Margerum, Isop, Tyme, and Eye-bright, good for the blinde and dumbe. The Pinke, the Primrose, Cowslip, and Daffadilly, The Hare-bell blue, the crimson Cullumbine, Sage, Lettis, Parsley, and the milke-white Lilly, The Rose, and speckled flowre cald Sops in wine, Fine pretie King-cups, and the yellow Bootes, That growes by Riuers, and by shallow Brookes. And manie thousand moe (I cannot name) Of hearbs and flowers that in gardens grow, I haue for thee; and Coneyes that be tame, Yong Rabbets, white as Swan, and blacke as Crow, Some speckled here and there with daintie spots: And more I haue two mylch and milke-white Goates. All these, and more, Ile giue thee for thy loue; If these, and more, may tyce thy loue away: I haue a Pidgeon-house, in it a Doue, Which I loue more than mortall tongue can say: And last of all, Ile giue thee a little Lambe To play withall, new weaned from her Dam. But if thou wilt not pittie my Complaint, My Teares, nor Vowes, nor Oathes, made to thy Beautie: What shall I doo? But languish, die, or faint, Since thou dost scorne my Teares, and my Soules Duetie: And Teares contemned, Vowes and Oaths must faile; For where Teares cannot, nothing can preuaile. Compare the loue of faire Queene _Guendolin_ With mine, and thou shalt [s]ee how she doth loue thee: I loue thee for thy qualities diuine, But She doth loue another Swaine aboue thee: I loue thee for thy gifts, She for hir pleasure; I for thy Vertue, She for Beauties treasure. And alwaies (I am sure) it cannot last, But sometime Nature will denie those dimples: In steed of Beautie (when thy Blossom's past) Thy face will be deformed, full of wrinckles: Then She that lou'd thee for thy Beauties sake, When Age drawes on, thy loue will soone forsake. But I that lou'd thee for thy gifts diuine, In the December of thy Beauties waning, Will still admire (with ioy) those louely eine, That now behold me with their beauties baning: Though Ianuarie will neuer come againe, Yet Aprill yeres will come in showers of raine.