Yee can not loue so guide, That it no issue winnne. (15) Abrode nedes must it glide, That brens so hote within. For cause your self do wink, Ye iudge all other blinde: +And secret it you think, (20) Which euery man doth finde. In wast oft spend ye windeYour self in loue to quit, For agues of that kinde Will show, who hath the fit. (25) Your sighes you fet from farre, And all to wry your wo: Yet are ye neare the narre, Men ar not blinded so. Depely oft swere ye no: (30) But all those othes ar vaine. So well your eye doth show, Who puttes your hart to paine. Think not therfore to hide, That still it selfe betraies: (35) Nor seke meanes to prouide To darke the sunny daies. Forget those wonted waies: Leaue of such frowning chere: There will be found no staies(40) To stoppe a thing so clere.