g parted, Love tooke up Deaths dart,
And Death tooke up Loves arrow for his part.

Thus as they wandred both about the world,
At last Death met with one of feeble age:
Wherewith he drew a shaft and at him hurld
The unknowne arrow with a furious rage,
Thinking to strike him dead with Deaths blacke dart;
But he, alas, with Love did wound his hart!

This was the doting foole, this was the man
That lov'd faire Guendolena, Queene of Beautie;
Shee cannot shake him off, doo what she can,
For he hath vowd to her his soules last duety:
Making him trim upon the holydaies,
And crownes his love with garlands made of baies.

Now doth he stroke his beard, and now againe
He wipes the drivel from his filthy chin;
Now offers he a kisse, but high Disdaine
Will not permit her hart to pity him:
Her hart more hard than adamant or steele,
Her hart more changeable than Fortunes wheele.

But leave we him in love up to the eares,
And tell how Love behav'd himselfe abroad;
Who seeing one that mourned still in teares,
A young man groaning under Loves great load,
Thinking to ease his burden, rid his paines,
For men have griefe as long as life remaines.

Alas, the while that unawares he drue
The fatall shaft that Death had dropt before,
By which deceit great harme did then insue,
Stayning his face with blood and filthy goare:
His face, that was to Guendolen more deere
Than love of lords, or any lordly peere.

This was that faire and beautifull young man,
Whom Guendolena so lamented for;
This is that Love whom she doth curse and ban,
Because she doth that dismall chaunce abhor:
And if it were not for his mothers sake,
Even Ganimede himselfe she would forsake.

Oh would shee would forsake my Ganimede,
Whose sugred love is full of sweete delight,
Upon whose forehead you may plainely reade
Loves pleasure grav'd in yvorie tables bright:
In whose faire eye-balls you may clearely see
Base Love still staind with foule indignitie.

Oh would to God he would but pitty mee,
That love him more than any mortall wight!
Then he and I with love would soone agree,
That now cannot abide his sutors sight.
O would to God, so I might have my fee,
My lips were honey, and thy mouth a bee!

Then shouldst thou sucke my sweet