1 So many loues haue I neglected,
Whose good parts might moue mee;
That now I liue of all rejected,
There is none will loue me.
Why is mayden heate so coy ?
It freezeth when it burneth;
Looseth what it might inioy,
And hauing lost it mourneth.
2 Should I then wooe that haue beene wooed,
Seeking them that flye mee ?
When I my faith with teares haue vowed,
And when all denye mee,
Who will pitty my disgrace,
Which loue might haue preuented ?
There is no submission base
Where error is repented.
3 O happy men whose hopes are licenc'd
To discourse their passion :
While women are confin'd to silence,
Loosing wisht occasion.
Yet our tongues then theirs, men say,
Are apter to be mouing :
Women are more dumbe then they,
But in their thoughts more mouing.
4 When I compare my former strangenesse
With my present doting,
I pitty men that speake in plainenesse,
Their true hearts deuoting,
While wee with repentance iest
At their submissiue passion :
Maydes I see are neuer blest
That strange be but for fashion.
Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer