Philip Massinger (1583–1640)

THE BLUSHING rose and purple flower,

Let grow too long, are soonest blasted!

Dainty fruits, though sweet, will sour,

And rot in ripeness, left untasted!

Yet here is one more sweet than these:

The more you taste, the more She’ll please!

Beauty, though inclosed with ice,

Is a shadow chaste as rare;

Then, how much those sweets entice,

That have issue full as fair!

Earth cannot yield from all her powers,

One equal for Dame Venus’ bowers!