Sweet if you like and love me stil,
And yeeld me love my good wil,
And do not from your promise start
When your fair hand gave me your hart,
If dear to you I be,
As you are dear to me,
Then yours I am, and wil be ever,
No time nor place my love shall sever,
But faithfull still I will persever,
Like constant Marble stone,
Loving but you alone.

But if you favour moe than me,
(Who loves thee still, and none but thee,)
if others do the harvest gaine,
that's due to me for all my paine:
yet that you love to range,
and oft to chop and change,
then get you some new fangled mate:
My doting love shal turne to hate,
Esteeming you (though too late)
Not worth a peble stone,
Loving not me alone.