Epitaphes, epigrams, songs and sonets with a discourse of the friendly affections of Tymetes to Pyndara his ladie. Newly corrected with additions, and set out by George Turbervile Gentleman.

To his Ring giuen to his Ladie, where∣in was grauen this Verse. My hart is yours.

THough thou (my King) be small, and slender be thy price: Yet hast thou in thy compasse coucht a Louers true deuice. And though no Rubie red, ne Turkesse trim thy top, Nor other Iuell that commends the golden Vulcans shop: Yet mayst thou boldlye vaunt and make a true report

For mée that am thy Mayster yet in such a semblant sort, That aye (my hart is hirs) of thée I aske no more: My Pen and I will shew the reast, which yet I kéepe in store. Be mindefull of thy charge, and of thy Maysters case: Forget not that (my hart is hirs) though I be not in place. When thou hast tolde thy tale which is but short and swéete: Then let my Loue coniect the reast till she and I doe méete. For as (my hart is hirs) so shall it be for aye: My hart, my hand, my lyfe, my limmes are hirs till dying daye. Yea when the spirite giues vp and bodie breathes his last, Say naythelesse (my hart is hirs) when life and all is past. Sit fast to hir finger, But doe thou not wring her.