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WHo is the
same, which at my window peepes?
Or whose is that
faire face, that shines so bright,
Is it not Cinthia,
she that neuer sleepes,
But walkes about high heauen
al the night?
O fayrest goddesse, do thou not enuy
My loue with me to spy:
For thou likewise didst
loue, though now vnthought,
And for a fleece of woll,
which priuily,
The Latmian shephard once vnto thee
brought,
His pleasures with thee wrought,
Therefore to vs be fauorable now;
And sith of wemens
labours thou hast charge,
And generation goodly dost
enlarge,
Encline they will t'effect our wishfull
vow,
And the chast wombe informe with timely seed,
That may our comfort breed:
Till which we cease
our hopefull hap to sing,
Ne let the woods vs
answere, nor our Eccho ring.
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