Change thy mind since she doth change,
Let not fancy still abuse thee.
Thy untruths cannot seem strange
When her falsehood doth accuse thee.
Love is dead, and thou art free,
She doth live, but dead to thee.

Whilst she loved thee best awhile,
See how still she did delay thee,
Using shows for to beguile
Those vain hopes which have betrayed thee.
Now thou see'st, but all too late,
Love loves truth, which women hate.

Love, farewell, more dear to me
Than my life which thou preserved'st.
Life, thy joy is gone from thee,
Others have what thou deserved'st,
They envy what 's not their own:
Happier life to live alone.

Yet thus much to ease my mind:
Let her know what she hath gotten,
She, who time hath proved unkind,
Having changed, is quite forgotten.
Fortune now hath done her worst;
Would she had done so at first.

Love no more since she is gone;
She is gone and loves another.
Having been deceived by one,
Leave to love, and love no other.
She was false, bid her adieu.
She was best, but yet untrue.