Why should you swear 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 hours space?
I must all other beauties wrong,
And rob thee of a new embrace,
Could I still dote upon thy face. Not, but all joy in thy brown hair,
By others may be found;
But I must search the black and fair
Like skilfull mineralists that sound
For treasure in unplow'd-up ground. Then, if when I have lov'd my round,
Thou prov'st the pleasant she;
With spoils of meaner beauties crown'd,
I laden will return to thee,
Ev'n sated with variety.