Sir Toby Matthews -

1

Say , but did you love so long?
In troth, I needs must blame you:
Passion did your judgment wrong,
Or want of reason shame you.

2

Truth, time's fair and witty daughter,
Shortly shall discover,
Y' are a subject fit for laughter,
And more fool than lover.

3

But I grant you merit praise
For your constant folly:
Since you doted three whole days,
Were you not melancholy?

4

She to whom you prov'd so true,
And that very, very face,
Puts each minute such as you
A dozen dozen to disgrace.
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