No sickness harmed thee (far be that away!),
No envious tongue wrought thy thick locks' decay.
By thine own hand and fault thy hurt doth grow,
Thou mad'st thy head with compound poison flow.
Now Germany shall captive hair-tires send thee,
And vanquished people curious dressings lend thee.
Which some admiring, O thou oft wilt blush!
And say, "He likes me for my borrowed bush.
Praising for me some unknown Guelder[217] dame,
But I remember when it was my fame."50