Farewell false Love, thou Oracle of Lyes.
A mortall Foe, an Enymy to reste,
An envious Boy, from whence all cares aryse,
A Bastard borne, a Beast with rage posseste.
A way of Error, a Temple full of Treason,
In all effectes, contrary unto reason.
A poisoned Serpent, coverde all with flowres,
Mother of Sighes, and murtherer of repose.
A Sea of Sorrows, whence ar drawn such showres,
As moisture lends to every grief that growes.
A Poole of guile, a Neste of Deepe Decaipte
A guilded hooke, that holdes a poisoned Bayte.
A fortresse foild, which Reason Did Defende,
A Syrens song, a Fever of the mynde
A maze wherin Affection findes no ende,
A ruanginge Clowd, that roves befor the wynde
A Substance like the shadow of the Sunne
A Goale of Grief, for which the wisest runne.
A quenchlesse Fyre, a Nurse of trembling feare,
A pathe that leades to peryll and mishappe,
A trew retrayt of Sorrow and Dispayre,
An ydle Boy, that sleepes in pleasures lappe.
A deep mistrust of that whiche certayne seemes,
And hope of that, which Reason doubtfull deemes.
Since then thy traynes, my yonger yeres betray,
And for my Faithe, Ingratitud I finde,
And sithe Repentaunce, doth thy wrongs bewray
Whose course I se, repugnant unto kinde,
False Love, desire, and Bewty frayle, Adew,
Dead is the rote, from whence such fancies grew.