The Lover taught, mistrusteth Allurements

IT may be good, like it who list;

But I do doubt: who can me blame?

For oft assured, yet have I mist;

And now again I fear the same.

The words, that from your mouth last came,

Of sudden change, make me aghast;

For dread to fall, I stand not fast.

Alas, I tread an endless maze,

That seek t’ accord two contraries;

And hope thus still, and nothing hase,

Imprisoned in liberties:

As one unheard, and still that cries;

Always thirsty, and nought doth taste;

For dread to fall, I stand not fast.

Assured, I doubt I be not sure;

Should I then trust unto such surety;

That oft hath put the proof in ure,

And never yet have found it trusty?

Nay, sir, in faith, it were great folly:

And yet my life thus do I waste;

For dread to fall, I stand not fast.