I enuie not Endimion now no more,
Nor all the happinesse his sleepe did yeeld,
While as Diana straying through the field,
Suck'd from his sleep-seal'd lippes balme for her sore:
Whil'st I embrac'd the shadow of my death,
I dreaming did farre greater pleasure proue,
And quaff'd with Cupid sugred draughts of loue,
Then Ioue-like feeding on a nectar'd breath:
Now iudge which of vs two might be most prowd;
He got a kisse yet not enioy'd it right,
And I got none, yet tasted that delight
Which Venus on Adonis once bestow'd:
He onely got the bodie of a kisse,
And I the soule of it, which he did misse.