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His face seems twain; each several limb is doubled;

For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.

‘My tongue cannot express my grief for one,

And yet,’ quoth she, ‘behold two Adons dead!

My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone,

Mine eyes are turned to fire, my heart to lead.

Heavy heart’s lead, melt at mine eyes’ red fire!

So shall I die by drops of hot desire.

‘Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost,

What face remains alive that’s worth the viewing?

Whose tongue is music now? What canst thou boast

Of things long since, or anything ensuing?

The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim;

But true sweet beauty lived and died with him.

‘Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear:

Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you.

Having no fair to lose, you need not fear.

The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth hiss you.

But when Adonis lived, sun and sharp air

Lurked like two thieves to rob him of his fair;

‘And therefore would he put his bonnet on,

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