The recured Lover renounceth his fickle Mistress for her Newfangleness

THOU hast no faith of him that hath none,

But thou must love him needs by reason;

For as saith a proverb notable,

Each thing seeketh his semblable,

And thou hast thine of thy condition.

Yet is it not the thing I pass on,

Nor hot nor cold is mine affection!

For since thine heart is so mutable,

Thou hast no faith.

I thought thee true without exception,

But I perceive I lacked discretion;

To fashion faith to words mutable,

Thy thought is too light and variable

To change so oft without occasion.

Thou hast no faith!