| Proud is her look: | her look that is not proud. |
| Done all my days: | my days that are not done. |
| Loud are my sighs: | my sighs that are not loud. |
| Begun my death: | my death not yet begun. |
Thus looks and days, and sighs and death, might move
So kind, so fair, to give consent to love.
| Proud is her look: | because she scorns to see. |
| Not proud her look: | for none dare say so much. |
| Done are my days: | because they hapless be. |
| Not done my days: | because I wish them such. |
Thus looks and days increase this loving strife;
Not proud, not done, nor dead, nor giving life.
| Loud are my sighs: | because they pierce the sky. |
| Not loud my sighs: | because they are not heard. |
| My death begun: | because I heartless cry. |
| But not begun: | because I am debarred. |
Thus sighs and death my heart no comfort give:
Both life deny, and both do make me live.
| Bold are her smiles: | her smiles that are not bold. |
| Wise are her words; | those words that are not wise. |
| Cold are her lips: | those lips that are not cold. |
| Ice are those hands: | those hands that are not ice. |
Thus smiles and words, her lips, her hands, and She
Bold, wise, cold, ice, love's cruel torments, be.
| Bold are her smiles: | because they anger slay. |
| Not bold her smiles: | because they blush so oft. |
| Wise are her words: | because they wonders say. |
| Not wise her words: | because they are not soft. |