To his mistress upon his going to travell

Dearest do not now delay me,

since thou knowst I must begone;

Wind & Tyde 'tis thought doth stay me,

but 'tis wind that must be blown from thy breath,

whose native smell Indian Odours doth excell.

O then speak, my Dearest Fayre,

Kill not him who vowes to serve thee,

But perfume the Neighb'ring Ayre,

For dumb silence else will starve me

'Tis a word is quickly spoken,

Which restrain'd, a heart is broken.