Shall a smile or guileful glance,
Or a sigh that is but feigned,
Shall but tears that come by chance
Make me dote that was disdained?
No; I will no more be chained.

Shall I sell my freedom so,
Being now from Love remised?
Shall I learn (what I do know
To my cost) that Love’s disguised?
No; I will be more advised.

Must she fall, and I must stand?
Must she fly, and I pursue her?
Must I give her heart and land,
And, for nought, with them endue her?
No; first I will her truer.