Farewell too faire, too chast but too too cruell,
discretion never quenched fire with swords:
Why hast thou made my heart thine angers fuell,
and now would kill my passions with thy words.
This is prowd beauties true anatamy,
if that secure severe in secrecie, farewell.
Farewell too deare, and too too much desired,
Unlesse compassion dwelt more neere by heart:
Love by neglect (though constant) oft is tired,
And forc’t from blisse unwillingly to part,
This is prowd beauties
