The Workes of Benjamin Jonson | ||
CXXVI. To His Lady, Then Mrs. Cary.
Retyr'd, with purpose your faire worth to praise,'Mongst Hampton shades, and Phœbus grove of bayes,
I pluck'd a branch; the jealous god did frowne,
And bade me lay th'usurped laurell down:
Said I wrong'd him, and (which was more) his Love.
I answer'd, Daphne now no paine can prove.
Phœbus replyed. Bold head, it is not shee:
Cary my love is, Daphne but my tree.
The Workes of Benjamin Jonson | ||