Another (The Forsaken Maid)

Know falsest Man, as my love was
Greater then thine, or thy desert,
My scorne shall likewise thine surpasse,
And thus I tear thee from my heart.

Thou art so farr my love below,
That then my anger thou art lesse;
I neither love nor quarrell now,
But pity thy unworthinesse.

Go joyn, before thou think to wed,
Thy heart and tongue in Wedlocks knot:
Can peace be reaped from his bed,
Who with himselfe accordeth not?

Go learn to weigh thy words upon
The ballance of reality,
And having that perfection
Attaind, come then, and Ile scorn thee.