icicle

Mor. Miſlike me not for my complexion, / The ſhadowed liuerie of the burniſht ſunne, / To whom I am a neighbour,and neere bred. / Bring me the faireſt creature North-ward borne, / Where Phœbus fire ſcarce thawes the yſicles, / And let vs make inciſion for your loue, / To proue whoſe blood is reddeſt,his or mine.