Why should you swear I am forsworn,
- Since thine I vowed to be?
Lady it is already morn,
- And 'twas last night I swore to thee
That fond impossibility.
Have I not loved thee much and long,
- A tedious twelve hours' space?
I must all other Beauties wrong,
- And rob thee of a new embrace;
Could I still dote upon thy face.
Not, but all joy in thy brown hair,
- By others may be found;
But I must search the black and fair
- Like skilful mineralists that sound
For treasure in un-plowed-up ground.
Then, if when I have loved my round,
- Thou provest the pleasant she;
With spoils of meaner Beauties crowned,
- I laden will return to thee,
Ev'n sated with variety.