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FResh spring
the herald of loues mighty king,
In whose cote
armour richly are displayd,
all sorts of flowers the
which on earth do spring
in goodly colours
gloriously arrayd.
Goe to my loue, where she is
carelesse layd,
yet in her winters bowre not well
awake:
tell her the ioyous time wil not be staid
vnlesse she doe him by the forelock take.
Bid her
therefore her selfe soone ready make,
to wayt on
loue amongst his louely crew:
where euery one that
misseth then her make,
shall be by him amearst with
penance dew.
Make hast therefore sweet loue, whilest
it is prime,
for none can call againe the passed
time.
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