CII

    My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming； I love not less, though less the show appear； That love is merchandiz'd, whose rich esteeming¹, The owner's tongue doth publish every where. Our love was new, and then but in the spring, When I was wont² to greet it with my lays； As Philomel in summer's front doth sing, And stops her pipe in growth of riper days： Not that the summer is less pleasant now Than when her mournful hymns³ did hush⁴ the night, But that wild music burthens every bough⁵, And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. Therefore like her, I sometime hold my tongue： Because I would not dull you with my song.