1584.
[¶]Her friend that wel deserues,
is out of countenaunce quite,
She makes the game to see me shoot,
while others hit the white.
[¶]He may wel beat the bush,
as manie thousands doo:
And misse the birds, and haply loose
his part of feathers too.
¶He hops without the ring,
yet daunceth on the trace,
When some come after soft and faire,
a heauie hobling pace.
¶In these vnconstant daies,
such troth these women haue:
As wauering as the aspen leaf
they are, so God me saue.
¶For no deserts of men
are wei[ghe]d, what ere they be:
For in a mood their minds are led
with new delights we see.
¶The guiltlesse goeth to wrack,
the gorgeous peacocks gay:
They do esteem vpon no cause,
and turne their friends away.
¶I blame not al for one,
some flowers grow by the weeds,
Some are as sure as lock and key,
and iust of words and deeds.
¶And yet of one I waile,
of one I crie and plaine:
And for her sake shall neuer none,
so nip my heart againe:
