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I.
That
frantick errour I adore,
And am confirm'd the earth
turns round;
Now satisfied o're and o're,
As
rowling waves, so flowes the ground,
And as her
neighbour reels the shore:
Finde such a woman says
she loves;
She's that fixt heav'n, which never moves.
II.
In marble, steele, or porphyrie,
Who
carves or stampes his armes or face,
Lookes it by
rust or storme must dye:
This womans love no time can
raze,
Hardned like ice in the sun's eye,
Or your
reflection in a glasse,
Which keepes possession,
though you passe.
III.
We not behold a watches
hand
To stir, nor plants or flowers to grow;
Must
we infer that this doth stand,
And therefore, that
those do not blow?
This she acts calmer, like Heav'ns
brand,
The stedfast lightning, slow loves dart,
She kils, but ere we feele the smart.
IV.
Oh,
she is constant as the winde,
That revels in an
ev'nings aire!
Certaine as wayes unto the blinde,
More reall then her flatt'ries are;
Gentle as chaines
that honour binde,
More faithfull then an Hebrew Jew,
But as the divel not halfe so true.
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