Rosalind's Madrigal

Love in my bosom like a bee

Doth suck his sweet:

Now with his wings he plays with me,

Now with his feet.

Within mine eyes he makes his nest,

His bed amidst my tender breast;

My kisses are his daily feast,

Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;

He music plays if so I sing;

He lends me every lovely thing,

I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in;

I'll make you fast it for your sin;

I'll count your power not worth a pin.

Then sit thou safely on my knee;

Then let thy bower my bosom be;

Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee;