XVIII

SHOW me deare Christ, thy Spouse, so bright and clear. 

What! is it She, which on the other shore 

Goes richly painted? or which rob’d and tore 

Laments and mournes in Germany and here? 

Sleepes she a thousand, then peepes up one yeare? 

Is she selfe truth and errs? now new, now outwore? 

Doth she, and did she, and shall she evermore 

On one, on seaven, or on no hill appeare? 

Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights 

First travaile we to seeke and then make Love? 

Betray kind husband thy spouse to our sights, 

And let myne amorous soule court thy mild Dove, 

Who is most trew, and pleasing to thee, then 

When she’is embrac’d and open to most men.