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| Elegie. |
|
| To make the doubt cleare, that no woman's true, |
| Was it my fate to prove it strong in you? |
| Thought I, but one had breathed purest aire, |
| And must she needs be false because she's faire? |
| Is it your beauties marke, or of your youth, |
| Or your perfection, not to study truth? |
| Or thinke you heaven is deafe, or hath no eyes? |
| Or those it hath, smile at your perjuries? |
| Are vowes so cheape with women, or the matter |
| Whereof they are made, that they are writ in water, |
| And blowne away with winde? Or doth their breath |
| (Both hot and cold) at once make life and death? |
| Who could have thought so many accents sweet |
| Form'd into words, so many sighs should meete |
| As from our hearts, so many oathes, and teares |
| Sprinkled among, (all sweeter by our feares |
| And the divine impression of stolne kisses, |
| That seal'd the rest) should now prove empty blisses? |
| Did you draw bonds to forfet? signe to breake? |
| Or must we reade you quite from what you speake, |
| And finde the truth out the wrong way? or must |
| Hee first desire you false, would wish you just? |
| O I prophane, though most of women be |
| This kinde of beast, my thought shall except thee; |
| My dearest Love, though froward jealousie, |
| With circumstance might urge thy'inconstancie,
|
[CW: Sooner] |