1
Sweete Loue my onely Treasure,
For seruice long vnfained
Wherein I nought haue gained,
Vouchsafe this little pleasure,
To tell mee in what part
My Lady keepes my heart.
2
If in her haire so slender,
Like golden nets vntwined,
Which fire and arte haue fined:
Her thrall my hart I render
For euer to abide,
With lockes so daintie tide.
3
If in her eyes she bind it,
Wherein that fire was framed,
By which it is inflamed,
I dare not looke to finde it,
I onely wish it sight,
To see that pleasant light.
4
But if her brest haue dained
With kindnesse to receiue it,
I am content to leaue it,
Though death thereby were gained:
Then Lady take your owne,
That liues for you alone.