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I.
Chloe,
behold! againe I bowe:
Againe possest, againe I woe;
From my heat hath taken fire
Damas, noble youth, and
fries,
Gazing with one of mine eyes,
Damas, halfe
of me expires:
Chloe, behold! Our fate's the same.
Or make me cinders too, or quench his flame
II.
I'd not be King, unlesse there sate
Lesse lords that
shar'd with me in state
Who, by their cheaper
coronets, know,
What glories from my diadem flow:
Its use and rate values the gem:
Pearles in their
shells have no esteem;
And, I being sun within thy
sphere,
'Tis my chiefe beauty thinner lights shine
there.
III.
The Us'rer heaps unto his store
By seeing others praise it more;
Who not for gaine or
want doth covet,
But, 'cause another loves, doth love
it:
Thus gluttons cloy'd afresh invite
Their gusts
from some new appetite;
And after cloth remov'd, and
meate,
Fall too againe by seeing others eate.
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