A displeasure against loue

LOVE is witty, but not wise,
When he stares on beauties eyes,
Finding wonders in conceit,
That doe fall out but deceit.

Wit is stable, but not staied,
When his senses are betraied:
Where, too late sorrow doth proue,
Beauty makes a foole of loue.

Youth is forward, but too fond,
When he falles in Cupids bond:
Where repentance lets him see,
Fancy fast is neuer free.

Age is cunning, but vnkinde,
When he once growes Cupid-blinde.
For, when beauty is vntoward,
Age can neuer be but froward.

So that I doe finde in briefe,
In the grounds of natures griefe,
Age, and youth, and wit doe proue,
Beauty makes a foole of loue.