Upon a delaying lady

Come, come away,

Or let me go;

Must I here stay

Because y'are slow,

And will continue so?

Troth, lady, no.

I scorn to be

A slave to state:

And, since I'm free,

I will not wait

Henceforth at such a rate

For needy fate.

If you desire

My spark should glow,

The peeping fire

You must blow,

Or I shall quickly grow

To frost or snow.