Beauty, since you so much desire
To know the place of Cupids fire,
About you somewhere doth it rest,
Yet neuer harbour'd in your brest,
Nor gout-like in your heele or toe ;
What foole would seeke Loues flame so low?
But a little higher, but a little higher,
There, there, o there lyes Cupids fire.

Thinke not, when Cupid most you scorne,
Men iudge that you of Ice were borne ;
For though you cast loue at your heele,
His fury yet sometime you feele :
And where-abouts if you would know,
I tell you still not in your toe :
But a little higher, but a little higher,
There, there, o there lyes Cupids fire.