Come my Celia, let us prove,
While we can, the sports of love;
Time will not be ours forever,
He at length our good will sever.
Spend not then his gifts in vain;
Suns that set may rise again,
But if once we lose this light,
'Tis with us perpetual night.
Why should we defer our joys?
Fame and rumour are but toys.

Song, To Celia, lines 1-10. Compare Catullus, Carmina V - The Works of Ben Jonson, First Folio (1616) - The Forest