Classic Poem

A Gentlewoman, falsely deceived with faire wordes, forsweareth hereafter to be wonne with flattering promises

Give me my worke that I may sit and sowe.
And so escape the traines of trustlesse men,
I finde too true, by witnesse of my woe,
How that faire wordes with faithles works they blen;
Much Syren like, with sweete inticing call,
We sillie dames to witch, and wray in thrall.

O cruell friend! whose false of faith I rue,
Thou forcest me to count all men unjust,
For if that vow or othe might make one true,
Thou usedst such as well might force to trust:
But I, betrayd by too farre trusting thee,
Wil henceforth take faire words even as they be.

I will be dease, though thousands sue for grace.
My sight as dym, if sights in silence plead;
Salt teares no ruth within my hart shall place,
For this shall be my song, and dayly reade,
Poore I, that liv'd in thraldome linckt of yore,
Unbound at length, will learne to love no more.