Who know sinne
Let him repair
Unto paradise
There he shall see a man
So wrung with pains

His skinne, his garments
Bloudie be
Sinne is that presse and vice
Which forceth pain

To hunt his cruel
Through every vein

Who knows not love
Let him assay
And taste that juice
Which on the crosse a pike
Did set again abroach

If ever he did taste the like
Or every like
Love is that liquor sweet
And most divine

To hunt his cruel
Through every vein

The shadows
Except our loves
At this noon stay
We shall new shadows
Make the other way
Stand still and i will read to thee
A lecture love in love's philosophy

These three hours
That we have spent
Walking here two shadows
Went along with us
Which we ourselves produced
But now the sun
Is just above our head

Love is a growing
Or full constant light
And his first minute
After noon is night
But these grow
Longer all the day
But love's day is short
If love decay