I do confess thou'rt sweet; yet find Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, Thy favours are but like the wind That kisseth everything it meets: 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 sigh, while some will smile, To see thy love to every one Hath brought thee to be loved by none.

183. 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 o'erthrown If thou hadst still continued mine; Yea, if thou hadst remain'd thy own, I might perchance have yet been thine. But thou thy freedom didst recall That it thou might elsewhere enthral: And then how could I but disdain A captive's captive to remain? When new desires had conquer'd thee And changed the object of thy will, It had been lethargy in me, Not constancy, to love thee still.