Come my Lucastæ heer's the Grove,
where Nightingales perfume the Ayre;
why dost thou start?
O 'tis not Love, for perfect Lovers dare not fear.

No dangers in this Arbour ly,
our courage keeps all others hence,
ther's none shal dare approach but I;
the strongest Love is best defence.

Here we'l discourse, and think, and smile,
Let guilty men seek how to scape;
He cannot love that can beguile,
And none but Foes commit a Rape.

This Evening's worth Ten Thousand yeere,
Then let's resolve since thou must go,
We'l meet again to morrow here,
Would Kings and Queens might do so too.