| LOVE is too young to know what conscience is; | |
| Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? | |
| Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, | |
| Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove: | |
| For, thou betraying me, I do betray | 5 |
| My nobler part to my gross body’s treason; | |
| My soul doth tell my body that he may | |
| Triumph in love; flesh stays no further reason, | |
| But rising at thy name doth point out thee | |
| As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, | 10 |
| He is contented thy poor drudge to be, | |
| To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. | |
| No want of conscience hold it that I call | |
| Her ‘love’ for whose dear love I rise and fall. |