Come, come away,
Or let me go;
Must I here stay
Because y'are slow,
And will continue so?
Troth, lady, no.

I scorn to be
A slave to state:
And, since I'm free,
I will not wait
Henceforth at such a rate
For needy fate.

If you desire
My spark should glow,
The peeping fire
You must blow,
Or I shall quickly grow
To frost or snow.