Laura. The Toyes of a Traveller. Or. The Feast of Fancie - Part 2, 37
An Ocean sea of water calme am I,
Wherein kinde Love the forme of fish doth take,
Leaping alongst the shore most wantonly:
Then Ladie, of a Fisher d'on the shape;
Ah, what sweete fishing shall you have to like,
If Love you chance to catch, while he doth bite?
Come then, and nak't into this water hie,
He cannot scape, but (here) perforce must bide,
(Lesse to my hart to save himselfe he flie)
Then quickly strip thy selfe, lay feare aside:
For of this daintie pray, which thou shalt take,
Both Sea, Fish, and thy Selfe, thou glad shalt make.
Wherein kinde Love the forme of fish doth take,
Leaping alongst the shore most wantonly:
Then Ladie, of a Fisher d'on the shape;
Ah, what sweete fishing shall you have to like,
If Love you chance to catch, while he doth bite?
Come then, and nak't into this water hie,
He cannot scape, but (here) perforce must bide,
(Lesse to my hart to save himselfe he flie)
Then quickly strip thy selfe, lay feare aside:
For of this daintie pray, which thou shalt take,
Both Sea, Fish, and thy Selfe, thou glad shalt make.
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