1 Once did I loue and yet I liue, Though loue and truth be now forgotten. Then did I ioy nowe doe I grieue, That holy vowes must needs be broken. 2 Hers be the blame that caus'd it so, Mine be the griefe though it be little, Shee shall haue shame I cause to know: What tis to loue a dame so fickle. 3 Loue her that list I am content, For that Camelion like shee changeth, Yeelding such mistes as may preuent: My sight to view her when she rangeth. 4 Let him not vaunt that gaines my losse, For when that he and time hath prou'd her, Shee may him bring to weeping crosse: I say no more because I lou'd her.