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THOUGH I regarded not The promise made by me ; Or pa**ed not to spot My faith and honesty : Yet were my fancy strange, And wilful will to wite, If I sought now to change A falcon for a kite. All men might well dispraise My wit and enterprise, If I esteemed a pese1 Above a pearl in price : Or judged the owl in sight The sparhawk to excel ; Which flieth but in the night, As all men know right well. Or if I sought to sail Into the brittle port, Where anchor hold doth fail To such as do resort ; And leave the haven sure, Where blows no blustering wind ; No fickleness in ure,2 So far-forth as I find. No ! think me not so light, Nor of so churlish kind, Though it lay in my might My bondage to unbind, That I would leave the hind To hunt the gander's foe. No ! no ! I have no mind To make exchanges so. Nor yet to change at all ; For think, it may not be That I should seek to fall From my felicity. Desirous for to win, And loth for to forego ; Or new change to begin ; How may all this be so ? The fire it cannot freeze, For it is not his kind ; Nor true love cannot lese The constance of the mind. Yet as soon shall the fire Want heat to blaze and burn ; As I, in such desire, Have once a thought to turn.