1 Now haue I learnd with much adoo at last By true disdaine to kill desire: This was the marke at which I shot, so fast Vnto this height I did aspire, Proud loue, now do thy worst and spare not For thee and all thy shaftes I care not. 2 What hast thou left wherewith to moue my minde ? What life to quicken dead desire ? I count thy words and oathes as light as winde, I feele no heate in all thy fire. Go change thy bow and get a stronger, Go breake thy shaftes and buy thee longer. 3 In vaine thou baitst thy hooke with beauties blaze, In vaine thy wanton eyes allure, These are but toyes for them that loue to gaze, I know what harme thy lookes procure: Some strange conceit must be deuis'd, Or thou and all thy skill despis'd.