The Boyes answer to the Blackmoor

Black Maid, complain not that I fly,

When Fate commands Antipathy:

Prodigious might that union prove,

Where Night and Day together move,

And the conjunction of our lips Not kisses make, but an Eclipse;

In which the mixed black and white Portends more terrour than delight.

Yet if my shadow thou wilt be,

Enjoy thy dearest wish:

But see Thou take my shadowes property,

That hastes away when I come nigh:

Else stay till death hath blinded mee,

And then I will bequeath my self to thee.