Why should you swear I am forsworn,

Since thine I vowed to be?

Lady it is already morn,

And 'twas last night I swore to thee

That fond impossibility.

Have I not loved thee much and long,

A tedious twelve hours' space?

I must all other Beauties wrong,

And rob thee of a new embrace;

Could I still dote upon thy face.

Not, but all joy in thy brown hair,

By others may be found;

But I must search the black and fair

Like skilful mineralists that sound

For treasure in un-plowed-up ground.

Then, if when I have loved my round,

Thou provest the pleasant she;

With spoils of meaner Beauties crowned,

I laden will return to thee,

Ev'n sated with variety.