He prayeth his Lady to be true, for no one can restrain a willing Mind

THOUGH I myself be bridled of my mind,

Returning me backward by force express;

If thou seek honour, to keep thy promess

Who may thee hold, but thou thyself unbind?

Sigh then no more, since no way man may find

Thy virtue to let, though that frowardness

Of Fortune me holdeth; and yet as I may guess

Though other be present thou art not all behind.

Suffice it then that thou be ready there

At all hours; still under the defence

Of Time, Truth, and Love to save thee from offence.

Crying I burn in a lovely desire,

With my dear Mistress that may not follow;

Whereby mine absence turneth me to sorrow.