Faine would I my loue disclose,
Aske what honour might denye ;
But both loue and her I lose,
From my motion if shee flye.
Worse then paine is feare to mee :
Then hold in fancy though it burne
If not happy, safe Ile be,
And to my clostred cares returne.

Yet, ô yet, in vaine I striue
To represse my school'd desire ;
More and more the flames reuiue,
I consume in mine owne fire.
She would pitty, might shee know
The harmes that I for her endure :
Speake then, and get comfort so ;
A wound long hid growes past recure.

Wise shee is, and needs must know
All th' attempts that beauty moues :
Fayre she is, and honour'd so
That she, sure, hath tryed some loues.
If with loue I tempt her then,
'Tis but her due to be desir'd :
What would women thinke of men
If their deserts were not admir'd ?

Women, courted, haue the hand
To discard what they distaste :
But those Dames whom none demand
Want oft what their wils imbrac't.
Could their firmnesse iron excell,
As they are faire, they should be sought :
When true theeues vse falsehood well,
As they are wise they will be caught.