Call
Romira, stay,
And run not thus like a young roe away,
No enemy
Pursues thee (foolish girl) ’tis only I,
I’ll keep off harms,
If thou’ll be pleased to garrison mine arms;
What dost thou fear
I’ll turn a traitor? May these Roses here
To paleness shred,
And lilies stand disguisèd in new red,
If that I lay
A snare, wherein thou wouldst not gladly stay;
See, see the sun
Does slowly to his azure lodging run,
Come sit but here
And presently he’ll quit our hemisphere,
So still among
Lovers, time is too short or else too long;
Here will we spin
Legends for them that have Love’s martyrs been,
Here on this plain
We’ll talk Narcissus to a flower again;
Come here, and choose
On which of these proud plats thou would repose,
Here mayst thou shame
The rusty violets with the crimson flame
Of either cheek,
And primroses white as thy fingers seek,
Nay, thou mayst prove
That man’s most noble passion is to love.