⁠In night (quoth she) desire sees best of all.

But if thou fall, O! then imagine this,
The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips,
And all is but to rob thee of a kiss.
Rich preys make true men thieves; so do thy lips
⁠Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn,
⁠Lest she should steal a kiss and die forsworn.

'Now of this dark night I perceive the reason:
Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine
Till forging Nature be condemn'd of treason,
For stealing moulds from heaven that were divine;
⁠Wherein she fram'd thee in high heaven's despite,
⁠To shame the sun by day and her by night.

'And therefore hath she brib'd the Destinies,
To cross the curious workmanship of nature
To mingle beauty with infirmities,
And pure perfection with impure defeature;
⁠Making it subject to the tyranny
⁠Of mad mischances and much misery;

'As burning fevers, agues pale and faint,
Life-poisoning pestilence and frenzies wood,
The marrow-eating sickness, whose attains
Disorder breeds by heating of the blood;
⁠Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn'd despair,
⁠Swear nature's death for framing thee so fair.