1 Sweete Cupid, ripen her desire, Thy ioyfull haruest may begin, If age approch a little nyer, Twill be too late too get it in. 2 Cold Winter stormes lay standing Corne, Which once too ripe will neuer rise, And louers wish themselues vnborne, When all their ioyes lie in their eyes. 3 Then sweete let vs imbrace and kisse, Shall beautie shale vpon the ground, If age bereaue vs of this blisse, Then will no more such sport be found.
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