It is not Love which you poore fooles do deeme,
That doth appeare by fond and outward showes
Of kissing, toying, or by swearings gloze:
O no, these are farre off from loves esteeme.
Alas, they are not such that can redeeme
Love lost, or wining keepe those chosen blowes:
Though oft with face, and lookes love ouerthrowes;
Yet so slight conquest doth not him beseeme.
'Tis not a shew of sighes or teares can prove
Who loves indeed, which blasts of fained love,
Increase or dye, as favors from them slide.
But in the soule true love in safety lies
Guarded by faith, which to desert still hies:
And yet kinde lookes doe many blessings hide.