Why should you sweare I am forsworn,   
Since thine I vow'd to be?   
Lady it is already Morn,   
And 'twas last night I swore to thee   
That fond impossibility.
   
Have I not lov'd thee much and long,   
A tedious twelve houres space?   
I must all other Beauties wrong,   
And rob thee of a new imbrace;   
Could I still dote upon thy Face.
   
Not, but all joy in thy browne haire,   
By others may be found;   
But I must search the black and faire   
Like skilfull Minerallist's that sound   
For Treasure in un-plow'd-up ground. 
   
Then, if when I have lov'd my round,   
Thou prov'st the pleasant she;   
With spoyles of meaner Beauties crown'd,   
I laden will returne to thee,   
Ev'n sated with Varietie.