Till now I never did believe
a man could love for vertues sake;
nor thought the absence of one Love
could grieve the man that freely might another take.
But since mine eyes betroth'd my heart to you,
I find both true, 
thine Innocence hath so my Love refin'd,
I mourn thy body's absence for thy mind.

Till now I never made an Oath
But with a purpose to forswear,
For to be fix'd upon one face were sloath,
When every Ladyes eye is Cupids sphear;
But if she merits faith from every breast
Who is the best
Of woman-kind? how then can I be free
To love another, having once lov'd thee?

Such is the rare and happy pow'r
Of Goodness, that it can dilate
It selfe to make one vertuous in an houre,
Who liv'd before, perhaps a reprobate;
Then since on me this wonder thou hast done,
Prithee work on
Upon thy selfe, thy Sex doth want that grace
My truth to love more then a better face.