1 Now haue I learnd with much adoo at last
By true disdaine to kill desire:
This was the marke at which I shot, so fast
Vnto this height I did aspire,
Proud loue, now do thy worst and spare not
For thee and all thy shaftes I care not.
2 What hast thou left wherewith to moue my minde ?
What life to quicken dead desire ?
I count thy words and oathes as light as winde,
I feele no heate in all thy fire.
Go change thy bow and get a stronger,
Go breake thy shaftes and buy thee longer.
3 In vaine thou baitst thy hooke with beauties blaze,
In vaine thy wanton eyes allure,
These are but toyes for them that loue to gaze,
I know what harme thy lookes procure:
Some strange conceit must be deuis'd,
Or thou and all thy skill despis'd.