I

Of the end and death of his love

Needs must I leave and yet needs must I love; In vain my wit doth tell in verse my woe; Despair in me, disdain in thee, doth show How by my wit I do my folly prove. All this my heart from love can never move. Love is not in my heart. No, Lady, no, My heart is love itself. Till I forego My heart I never can my love remove. How can I then leave love? I do intend Not to crave grace, but yet to wish it still; Not to praise thee, but beauty to commend; And so, by beauty's praise, praise thee I will; For as my heart is love, love not in me, So beauty thou, beauty is not in thee.