'For further I could say, This man's untrue, And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew, Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; Thought characters and words, merely but art, And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.
'And long upon these terms I held my city, Till thus he 'gan besiege me: Gentle maid, Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity, And be not of my holy vows afraid: That's to you sworn, to none was ever said; For feasts of love I have been call'd unto, Till now did ne'er invite, nor never woo.
'All my offences that abroad you see Are errors of the blood, none of the mind; Love made them not; with acture they may be, Where neither party is nor true nor kind: They sought their shame that so their shame did find; And so much less of shame in me remains, By how much of me their reproach contains.
'Among the many that mine eyes have seen, Not one whose flame my heart so much as warm'd, Or my affection put to the smallest teen, Or any of my leisures ever charm'd: Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed; Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, And reign'd, commanding in his monarchy.