[XIII. Flye not so swift]
Flye not so swift my deere, behold me dying
Flye not so swift my deere, behold me dying, If not a smiling
glance, a smiling glance, If not a smiling glance for all my crying, Yet kill me with
thy frownes: The Satyres o're the lawnes full nimbly dauncing,
Friske it apace, apace, to view thy beauties glancing, Thy beauties
glancing; See how they coast the downes, See how they
coast the downes, Fayne wouldst thou turne and yeeld them their delight,
faine wouldst thou turne, and yeeld them their delight,
faine wouldst thou turne, fayne wouldst
thou turne and yeeld them their delight, but that thou fearst least I should steale a sight.
