Since in love is no assurance:
Change thy pasture, take thy pleasure,
Beauty is a fading treasure.
Siren, pleasant foe to reason,
Cupid plague thee for thy treason!
Prime youth lasts not, age will follow
And make white those tresses yellow,
Wrinkled face, for looks delightful,
Shall acquaint the dame despiteful.
And when time shall date thy glory,