Harden now thy tyred hart, with more then flinty rage ;
Ne'er let her false teares henceforth thy constant griefe asswage.
Once true happy dayes thou saw'st when shee stood firme and kinde,
Both as one then liu'd and held one eare, one tongue, one minde :
But now those bright houres be fled, and neuer may returne ;
What then remaines but her vntruths to mourne ?

Silly Traytresse, who shall now thy carelesse tresses place ?
Who thy pretty talke supply, whose eare thy musicke grace ?
Who shall thy bright eyes admire ? what lips triumph with thine ?
Day by day who'll visit thee and say ' th'art onely mine ' ?                    
Such a time there was, God wot, but such shall neuer be :
Too oft, I feare, thou wilt remember me.