Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin. 
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lack'd anything. 

A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he. 
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
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, says Love, who bore the blame? 
My dear, then I will serve. 
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.