⁠As caterpillars do the tender leaves.

Love comforteth like sunshine after rain:
But lusts effect is tempest after Sun.
Loves gentle spring doth always fresh remain:
Lusts winter comes, ere Summer half be done.
⁠Love surfets not: lust like a glutton dies.
⁠Love is all truth, lust full of forged lies.

'More I could tell, but more I dare not say;
The text is old, the orator too green.
Therefore, in sadness, now I will away;
My face is full of shame, my heart of teen:
⁠Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended
⁠Do burn themselves for having so offended.'

With this he breaketh from the sweet embrace
Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast,
And homeward through the dark laund runs apace;
Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd.
⁠Look, how a bright star shooteth from the sky
⁠So glides he in the night from Venus' eye;

Which after him she darts, as one on shore
Gazing upon a late-embarked friend,
Till the wild waves will have him seen no more,
Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend:
⁠So did the merciless and pitchy night
⁠Fold in the object that did feed her sight.