For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.

He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts; But double griefs afflict concealing harts, As raging flames who striveth to supresse.

And through the hall there walked to and fro A jolly yeoman, marshall of the same, Whose name was Appetite; he did bestow Both guestes and meate, whenever in they came, And knew them how to order without blame.

All love is sweet Given or returned And its familiar voice wearies not ever.

Her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.

And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine.

Gather therefore the Rose, whilst yet is prime, For soon comes age, that will her pride deflower: Gather the Rose of love, whilst yet is time.