A Warning to the Lover, how he is abused by his Love

TOO dearly had I bought my green and youthful years,

If in mine age I could not find when craft for love appears.

And seldom though I come in court among the rest,

Yet can I judge in colours dim, as deep as can the best.

Where grief torments the man that suff’reth secret smart,

To break it forth unto some friend, it easeth well the heart.

So stands it now with me, for, my beloved friend,

This case is thine, for whom I feel such torment of my mind.

And for thy sake I burn so in my secret breast,

That till thou know my whole disease, my heart can have no rest,

I see how thine abuse hath wrested so thy wits,

That all it yields to thy desire, and follows thee by fits.

Where thou hast loved so long, with heart, and all thy power,

I see thee fed with feigned words, thy freedom to devour:

I know (though she say nay, and would it well withstand)

When in her grace thou held thee most, she bare thee but in hand.

I see her pleasant chere in chiefest of thy suit;

When thou art gone, I see him come that gathers up the fruit.

And eke in thy respect, I see the base degree

Of him to whom she gave the heart, that promised was to thee.

I see, (what would you more,) stood never man so sure

On woman’s word, but wisdom would mistrust it to endure.