CIX

    O！ never say that I was false of heart, Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify, As easy might I from my self depart As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie： That is my home of love： if I have rang'd, Like him that travels, I return again； Just to the time, not with the time exchang'd, So that myself bring water for my stain. Never believe though in my nature reign'd, All frailties¹ that besiege² all kinds of blood, That it could so preposterously³ be stain'd, To leave for nothing all thy sum of good； For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.