My glass shall not persuade me I am gold
So long as pain and thou are of one date
But when in thee joy's furrows I behold
Then look I ring my coins should expiate
For all that beauty that doth cover thee
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart
Which in thy breast doth live, As thine in me
How can I then be chipper than thou art?
O, Therefore, love, be of theyself so wary
As I, not for thyself but for they will
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
As tender nurse her babe from failing ill
Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain
Thou gave'st me thing, not to give back again