[To Faire Ladyes.]

Ladyes of Founthill, I am come to seeke My hart amongst you, which I late did leese; but many harts may be perhaps alike: Therefore of mine, the proper markes, are theise. It is not hard, though true as steele it be, And like y^{e} diomond, cleare from any spot; Transmixt with many darts you shall it se[e], but all by vertue, not by Cupid, shot; It hath no wings, because it needeth none, Being now arived and settled where it would; Wingèd desires and hopes from it gon are, but it is full of joyes as it can hold. Faine would I find it where it doth remaine, but would not haue it though I might againe.

UPON A PAIRE OF GARTERS.

Go loveinge woode-bynde, clip with louely grace, those two sweet plants which beare y^{e} flowers of loue Go silken vines, those tender elmes embrace, Which flourish still, although their roots doe moue. As soone as you possess your blessed places, You are advancèd and ennobled more Then dyodemes, which were white silken laces That ancient kings about there forehead wore: Sweete bands, take heed lest you vnge[n]tly bynd, Or with your stricktnes make too deepe a print: Was neuer tree had such a tinder rynd, Although her inward hart be hard as flynt; And let your knots be fast, and loose at will, she must be free, though I stand bounden still.