Never more will I protest,
To love a woman but in jest:
For as they cannot be true,
So, to give each man his due,
When the wooing fit is past
Their affection cannot last.
Therefore, if I chance to meet
With a mistress fair and sweet,
She my service shall obtain,
Loving her for love again:
Thus much liberty I crave,
Not to be a constant slave.
But when we have tried each other,
If she better like another,
Let her quickly change for me,
Then to change am I as free.
He or she that loves too long
Sell their freedom for a song.
More verses by Francis Beaumont
- True Beauty
- On The Tombs In Westminster Abbey
- The Conclusion
- An Elegy On The Death Of The Virtuous Lady Elizabeth, Countess Of Rutland
- To My Dear Friend M. Ben Jonson, On His Fox