The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth hiss you:
⁠But when Adonis liv'd, sun and sharp air
⁠Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair:

'And therefore would he put his bonnet on,
Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep;
The wind would blow it off, and, being gone,
Play with his locks: then would Adonis weep;
⁠And straight, in pity of his tender years,
⁠They both would strive who first should dry his tears.

'To see his face the lion walk'd along
Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him;
To recreate himself when he hath sung,
The tiger would be tame and gently hear him;
⁠If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey,
⁠And never fright the silly lamb that day.

'When he beheld his shadow in the brook,
The fishes spread on it their golden gills;
When he was by, the birds such pleasure took,
That some would sing, some other in their bills
⁠Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries
⁠He fed them with his sight, they him with berries.

'But this foul, grim, and urchin-spouted boar,
Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave,
Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore;
Witness the entertainment that he gave:
⁠If