Caelica, Sonnet XLVII

MAnkinde, whose liues from houre to houre decay,
Left sudden change himselfe should make him feare
For if his blacke head instantly waxt gray,
Doe you not thinke man would himselfe forsweare?

Caelica, who ouernight spake, with her eyes
My Loue complaines, that it can loue no more,
Shewing me shame, that languisheth and dyes,
Tyrannis'd by loue, it tyrannis'd before;
If on the next day Cynthia change and leaue,
Would you trust your eyes, since her eyes deceaue?