Once for her face, I saw my Faire
Did of her haires a shadow make:
Or rather wandring hearts to take,
She stented had those nets of gold,
Sure by this meanes all men t'ensnare,
She toss'd the streamers with her breath,
And seem'd to boast a world with death:
But when I did the sleight behold,
I to the shadow did repaire,
To flie the burning of thine eyes;
O happie he, by such a sleight that dies.