[XXXVII. The second part. Her breath is more sweet then perfect Amber is]
Her breath is more sweet then perfect Amber is
Her breath is more sweet then perfect Amber is, her yeeres are in
prime, and nothing doth she want, that might drawe Angells from Heauen
to further blisse, to further blisse, of all things perfect,
this do I most complaine, her hart is a rock made all of Adamant,
which guifts all delight, delight which guifts all delight, this last doth onely
paine, doth onely paine, this last doth onely paine.