Classic Poem

Not light of love, lady!
Though fancy do prick thee,
Let constancy possess thy heart.
Well worthy of blaming
They be, and defaming,
From plighted troth which back do start.
Dear dame,
Then fickleness banish
And folly extinguish,
Be skilful in guiding
And stay thee from sliding.

The constant are praised,
Their fame high is raised,
Their worthiness doth pierce the sky.
The fickle are blamed,
Their lightilove shamed,
Their foolishness doth make them die.
As well
Can Cressid bear witness,
Forge of her own distress,
Whom leprosy painted
And penury tainted.

Still Muses are busy
To tell us of Thisbe,
Whom steadfastness doth much commend.
And Camma is placed
To blame the defaced,
That light of love do send.
Phedra
Is checked most duly
Because that untruly,
Forced thereto by love light,
She slayeth Hippolite.

A spring of annoyance
And well of disturbance
Newfangleness in love hath been;
It killeth the master,
It poisons the taster,
No worldly wight by it doth win.
Therefore,
Good lady, be constant,
So shall you not be shent
But worthily praised,
As you have deserved.