Not like that loose and partie-liuer'd Sect
Of idle Louers, that (as different Lights,
On colour'd subiects, different hewes reflect;)
Change their Affections with their Mistris Sights,
That with her Praise, or Dispraise, drowne, or flote,
And must be fed with fresh Conceits, and Fashions;
Neuer waxe cold, but die: loue not, but dote:
" (Loues fires, staid Iudgements blow, not humorous Passions,)
Whose Loues vpon their Louers pomp depend,
And quench as fast as her Eyes sparkle twinkles,
" (Nought lasts that doth to outward worth contend,
" Al Loue in smooth browes born is tomb'd in wrinkles.)
But like the consecrated Bird of loue,
Whose whole lifes hap to his sole-mate alluded,
Whome no prowd flockes of other Foules could moue,
But in her selfe all companie concluded.
She was to him th' Analisde World of Pleasure,
Her firmenesse cloth'd him in varietie;
Excesse of all things, he ioyd in her measure,
Mourn'd when she mourn'd, and dieth when she dies,
Like him I bound th'instinct of all my powres,
In her that bounds the Empire of desert,
And Time nor Change (that all things else deuoures,
But truth eterniz'd in a constant heart)
Can change me more from her, then her from merit,
That is my forme, and giues my being, spirit.