Sweet Kate, of late
Ran away and left me 'plaining:
“Abide,” I cried,
“Or I die with thy disdaining.”
“He! he! he!” quoth she,
“Gladly would I see,
Any man to die with loving.
Never any yet,
Died of such a fit,
Neither have I fear of proving.”

“Unkind, I find
Thy delight is in tormenting,
Abide,” I cried,
“Or I die with thy consenting.”
“Te! he! he!” quoth she,
“Make no fool of me,
Men I know have oaths at pleasure;
But their hopes attained,
They betray they feigned,
And their oaths are kept at leisure.”

Her words, like swords,
Cut my sorry heart in sunder;
Her flouts, with doubts,
Keep my heart affections under;
“Te! he! he!” quoth she,
“What a fool is he
Stands in awe of once denying;”
Cause I had enough,
To become more rough,
So I did, O happy trying.