Love.
The folly of fickleness
Too fond art thou, forsooth, of change.
And let’st thy heart too often range
And waver, cursed with fickle doubt,
I know thee throughly—in and out.
The other day thou had’st the mind
To quit my service, and unkind
Complaints thou mad’st ’gainst Idleness,
And blamed my yoke, and did’st confess10800
Thee doubtful if fair Hope might be
Of good effect and aid to thee.
Thou said’st ’twas but a foolish whim,
That thou to my commands should’st trim
Thy life, and homage paid to Reason:
Was not then this foul act of treason?
The Lover.
Pardon! great master, I the crime
Confess, yet was I through the time
Your bounden liege, and often good
Assurance gave of trustihood,10810
As those should do who love thy rule.
Reason but held me for a fool;
Nor failed she sorely to reprove
My full surrender unto Love
When held she converse with me, but
With all her reasoning failed to cut
The bond between us, though ’tis true
She doubt inspired. But unto you
I promise that no more mine ear
I’ll lend to her, should I be near10820
