A NDRUGIO liues, yet onely liues by loue;
None but she saints his hot deuotion serues:
A world of which his praiers dayly moue,
To grant that grace which he weenes, he deserues
Now sits he in a corner with crost armes,
And with a sigh together brings his sides:
Now (as agast) he starts at Loue's alarmes,
Then from his head his haire, by lockes, deuldes:
Now quarrells with his starres, then with his state,
Now with his Loues (the load-starres of his life):
Now loues he them, and then he them doth hate,
Now seekes a rope, and then he seekes a knife:
And now and then, and then and now he fares
As he were franticke: fie, fie, what a moile
He makes with all the garments which he weares;
And with his head his hands keepe leuel-coyle
Now this hand scratcheth! and by and by the other,
And now he sits, and then about walkes he;
Now doth he swell as if he had the mother,
And then he winkes as if he could not see:
Thus for his Loues, bee's mad, deafe, dumbe and blinde,
And yet is hated of all woman-kinde.