SIR ROBERT AYTON
And since thou canst with more than one, Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.
The morning rose that untouch'd stands
Arm'd with her briers, how sweet she smells!
But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands, Her sweets no longer with her dwells:
But scent and beauty both are gone,
And leaves fall from her, one by one.
Such fate ere long will thee betide
When thou hast handled been awhile,
With sere flowers to be thrown aside, And I shall s>igh, while some will smile,
To see thy love to every one
Hath brought thee to be loved by none.
��To an Inconstant One
I LOVED thee once; I'll love no more Thine be the grief as is the blame; Thou art not what thou wast before, What reason I should be the same ? He that can love unloved again, Hath better store of love than brain: God send me love my debts to pay, While unthrifts fool their love away!
Nothing could have my love overthrown If thou hadst still continued mine;
Yea, if thou hadst remain'd thy own, I might perchance have yet been thine.
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