You, who ending never saw
Of pleasures best delighting,
You that cannot wish a thaw.
Who feeles no frost of spighting,
Keeping Cupids hand in awe,
That sees but by your lighting.
Bee not still too cruell bent
Against a soule distressed,
Whose heart love long since hath rent,
And pittilesse oppressed:
But let malice now be spent,
And former ills redressed.
Grieve I doe for what is past,
Let favour then be granted,
Theeves by judgement to dye cast,
Have not of mercy wanted;
But alone at feasts I fast,
As Chiefe of pleasure scanted:
You accuse me that I stole
From you your hearts directing,
All your thoughts at my controule,
Yet passions still rejecting;
But you place me in the roule
Of left loves new electing.
Though I kinder was to it,
My heart in place bestowing,
To make roome for yours more fit,
As just exchange truth flowing,
Till you fondly gain'd the bit,
And flying, left love owing.
Which debt resting still unpaid,
Let this at last be gained,
When your new loves have you staid,
With welcome choyce obtained:
Let change on your brest be laid,
While I live still unstained.