A Plea for Constancy

The golden gift that nature did thee geue,
To fasten frendes and fede them at thy wyll
With fourme and fauour, taught me to beleue
How thou art made to shew her greatest skill,
Whose hidden vertues are not so vnknowen
But liuely domes might gather at the first:
Where beautye so her perfect seede hath sowen,
Of other graces folow nedes there must.
Now certesse, ladie, sins all this is true,
That from aboue thy gyfts are thus elect,
Do not deface them than with fansies newe,
Nor chaunge of mindes let not thy minde infect,
But mercy him thy frende that doth thee serue,
Who seekes alway thine honour to preserue.