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But towards her loyally behave,

And may she as a dog or slave

To death condemn him if again

He break from her most gentle chain.

And then in love’s fond war entwined

He pardon gains, soft, sweet, and kind.

By no means should a lover dare

To boast new conquest if he care

To keep his mistress’ love.

Vile shame

It is when gallants dare make claim,

With lying tongue, that they’ve deceived

Ladies, who ne’er their vows received.

Such men are curst with souls debased,

On whom ’twere idle words to waste,

For only fools and idiots flaunt

Their dreams for deeds, with empty vaunt,

In all men’s ears, and he who most

Successful is, forbears to boast.

Love’s habitude it is to hide

His jewels from all else beside

His closest friends, who know to keep

A silent tongue.

He’ll sigh and weep

Most woefully if sickness seize

His mistress, and will strive to please

Her every whim, nor let her guess

How much of pain and weariness

Such work imposeth. He should sit

Beside her couch, and ere from it

He goes oft kiss her, and a tear

Let fall, the while he seeks to cheer