Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
                        Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack,
                        From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
                        If I lack'd anything.

A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be here:
                        Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
                        I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
                        Who made the eyes but I?

Truth Lord, but I have marr'd them: let my shame
                        Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
                        My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
                        So I did sit and eat.