Sweet Kate, of late Ran away and left me 'plaining: “Abide,” I cried, “Or I die with thy disdaining.” “He! he! he!” quoth she, “Gladly would I see, Any man to die with loving. Never any yet, Died of such a fit, Neither have I fear of proving.”
“Unkind, I find Thy delight is in tormenting, Abide,” I cried, “Or I die with thy consenting.” “Te! he! he!” quoth she, “Make no fool of me, Men I know have oaths at pleasure; But their hopes attained, They betray they feigned, And their oaths are kept at leisure.”
Her words, like swords, Cut my sorry heart in sunder; Her flouts, with doubts, Keep my heart affections under; “Te! he! he!” quoth she, “What a fool is he Stands in awe of once denying;” Cause I had enough, To become more rough, So I did, O happy trying.