Direct reading · Original
Section 440
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Perd.
Ile not put
The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them:
No more then were I painted, I would wish
This youth should say 'twer well: and onely therefore
Desire to breed by me. Here’s flowres for you:
Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum,
The Mary‑gold, that goes to bed with’Sun,
And with him rises, weeping: These are flowres
Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen
To men of middle age. Y’are very welcome.