Fie on pride

THE hidden pride that lurkes in beauties eyes,
And ouerlookes the humble hearts of loue,
Doth nothing else but vaine effectes deuise,
That may discretion from the minde remoue.

Oh, how it workes in wit, for idle wordes,
To buy repentance but with labour lost:
While sorrowes fortune nothing else affordes
But showres of raine, vpon a bitter frost.

A wicked shadowe that deceiues the sight,
And breedes an itch, that ouerrunnes the hart:
Which, leauing reason in a pitious plight,
Consumes the spirit, with a curelesse smart.

While wounded patience in her passion cries;
Fie vpon pride, that lurkes in beauties eyes.