The Scrutinie

  I

Why should you sweare I am forsworn,
 Since thine I vow’d to be?
Lady it is already Morn,
 And ’twas last night I swore to thee
That fond impossibility.

  II

Have I not lov’d thee much and long,
 A tedious twelve houres space?
I must all other Beauties wrong,
 And rob thee of a new imbrace;
Could I still dote upon thy Face.

  III

Not, but all joy in thy browne haire,
 By others may be found;
But I must search the blank and faire
 Like skilfull Minerallist’s that sound
For Treasure in un-plow’d-up ground.

  IV

Then, if when I have lov’d my round,
 Thou prov’st the pleasant she;
With spoyles of meaner Beauties crown’d,
 I laden will returne to thee,
Ev’d sated with Varietie.