The peaceful westerne winde
The winter stormes hath tam`d
And nature in each kinde
The kinde heat hath inflam`d.
The forward buds so sweetly breathe
Out of their earthy bowers
That heav`n which viewes their pompe beneath
Would faine be deckt with flowers.

See how the morning smiles
On her bright easterne hill
And with soft steps beguiles
Them that lie slumbring still.
The musicke-loving birds are come
From cliffes and rockes unknowne
To see the trees and briers blome
That late were over-flowne.

What Saturne did destroy
Loves Queene revives againe;
And now her naked boy
Doth in the fields remaine
Where he such pleasing change doth view
In ev`ry living thing
As if the world were borne anew
To gratifie the Spring.

If all things life present
Why die my comforts then?
Why suffers my content?
Am I the worst of men?
O beautie be not thou accus`d
Too justly in this case
Unkindly if true love be us`d
`Twill yeeld thee little grace.