| SWEET Cytherea, sitting by a brook | |
| With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green, | |
| Did court the lad with many a lovely look, | |
| Such looks as none could look but beauty’s queen. | |
| She told him stories to delight his ear; | 5 |
| She show’d him favours to allure his eye; | |
| To win his heart, she touch’d him here and there,— | |
| Touches so soft still conquer chastity. | |
| But whether unripe years did want conceit, | |
| Or he refus’d to take her figur’d proffer, | 10 |
| The tender nibbler would not touch the bait, | |
| But smile and jest at every gentle offer: | |
| Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward: | |
| He rose and ran away; ah! fool too froward. |