Wert thou as kinde as thou art faire,
All men might have a part,
And breath thee freely as the ayre:
For (Cynthia) thou art
In the superlative degree,
More beauteous then the light.
And as the Sun art made to be
An object for the sight.
But since thou hast some sweets unknowne,
Ordained for the touch,
Particular for me alone,
Then favour me thus much;
When to my touch thou dost allow
Thy cheeks, thy lips, thy brest,
Thy noblest parts: then do not thou
Exclude me from the rest.