The deserted Lover consoleth himself with remembrance that all Women are by nature fickle

DIVERS doth use, as I have heard and know,

When that to change their Ladies do begin

To mourn, and wail, and never for to lynn;

Hoping thereby to ’pease their painful woe.

And some there be that when it chanceth so

That women change, and hate where love hath been,

They call them false, and think with words to win

The hearts of them which otherwhere doth grow.

But as for me, though that by chance indeed

Change hath outworn the favour that I had,

I will not wail, lament, nor yet be sad,

Nor call her false that falsely did me feed;

But let it pass, and think it is of kind

That often change doth please a woman’s mind.