An Howres Recreation in Musicke

Shall I abide this jesting?
I weep, and she’s a-feasting!
O cruel fancy, that so doth blind me
To love one that doth not mind me!
Can I abide this prancing?
I weep, and she’s a-dancing!
O cruel fancy, so to betray me!
Thou goest about to slay me.

There is a garden in her face,
  Where roses and white lilies [grow]1;
A heav'nly paradise is that place,
  Wherein all pleasant fruits do [flow]2.
There cherries grow, which none may buy
Till "Cherry ripe", themselves do cry.

Those cherries fairly do enclose
  Of orient pearl a double row;
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
  They look like rosebuds filled with snow.
Yet them no peer nor prince [can]3 buy
Till "Cherry ripe", themselves do cry.

Her eyes like angels watch them still;
  Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
  All that [attempt]4 with eye or hand
[Those]5 sacred cherries to come nigh
Till "Cherry ripe", themselves do cry.