Laura. The Toyes of a Traveller. Or. The Feast of Fancie - Part 3, 31
My Mistres seemes but browne (say you) to mee.
Tis verie true, and I confesse the same:
Yet love I her, although that browne she bee,
Because to please me she is glad and faine.
I loved one most Beautiful before,
Whom now (as Death) I deadly doo abhore,
Because to scorne my service her I found,
I gave her ore, and chose to mee this same:
Nor to be faithfull (thinke I) I am bound
To one in whom no kindnes doth remaine:
This is the cause, for Browne and Pittifull,
I left a faire, but yet a faithlesse Trull.
Tis verie true, and I confesse the same:
Yet love I her, although that browne she bee,
Because to please me she is glad and faine.
I loved one most Beautiful before,
Whom now (as Death) I deadly doo abhore,
Because to scorne my service her I found,
I gave her ore, and chose to mee this same:
Nor to be faithfull (thinke I) I am bound
To one in whom no kindnes doth remaine:
This is the cause, for Browne and Pittifull,
I left a faire, but yet a faithlesse Trull.
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