LOve bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
		                    Guiltie of dust and sinne.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
		                    From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
		                    If I lack’d any thing.

A guest, I answer’d, worthy to be here:
		                    Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkinde, ungratefull?  Ah my deare,
		                    I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
		                    Who made the eyes but I?

Truth Lord, but I have marr’d them: let my shame
		                    Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, sayes Love, who bore the blame?
		                    My deare, then I will serve.
You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat:
		                    So I did sit and eat.