Those (Cynthia) that do taste the honey-dew,
Of thy moist rosie lips, (who are but few)
Or sucke the vapour of thy breath more sweet
Than Honisuckles juyce, they all agree't,
To be Mederaes Sugars quintessence,
Or some diviner sirrop brought from thence,
And for the operation, they beleeve,
It hath a quality provocative:
For Venus in the Sugars propagation
Is said to have a soveraigne domination:
But I must not thinke so, for I have read,
Of an extracted Sugar out of Lead,
Of which I once did taste, which Chymists call,
Sugar of Saturne, for they therewithall
Cure all venereall heates, for it doth hold
A winter in it like that Planets cold,
And though't be strangely sweet, yet doth it quench
All courage towards a Mistris or a wench:
Such must I thinke thy sweetnesse for to be,
By that experience that is found in me:
For he that shall those sweets of thine but taste,
Shall like thy selfe become, as cold, as chaste:
For like the Mildew new fallen from the skie,
Though dropt from Heaven, yet doth it mortifie.