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| CONCEIT, begotten by the eyes, | |
| Is quickly born and quickly dies; | |
| For while it seeks our hearts to have, | |
| Meanwhile, there reason makes his grave; | |
| For many things the eyes approve, | 5 |
| Which yet the heart doth seldom love. | |
| |
| For as the seeds in spring time sown | |
| Die in the ground ere they be grown, | |
| Such is conceit, whose rooting fails, | |
| As child that in the cradle quails; | 10 |
| Or else within the mother’s womb | |
| Hath his beginning and his tomb. | |
| |
| Affection follows Fortune’s wheels, | |
| And soon is shaken from her heels; | |
| For, following beauty or estate, | 15 |
| Her liking still is turned to hate; | |
| For all affections have their change, | |
| And fancy only loves to range. | |
| |
| Desire himself runs out of breath, | |
| And, getting, doth but gain his death: | 20 |
| Desire nor reason hath nor rest, | |
| And, blind, doth seldom choose the best: | |
| Desire attained is not desire, | |
| But as the cinders of the fire. | |
| |
| As ships in ports desired are drowned, | 25 |
| As fruit, once ripe, then falls to ground, | |
| As flies that seek for flames are brought | |
| To cinders by the flames they sought; | |
| So fond desire when it attains, | |
| The life expires, the woe remains. | 30 |
| |
| And yet some poets fain would prove | |
| Affection to be perfect love; | |
| And that desire is of that kind, | |
| No less a passion of the mind; | |
| As if wild beasts and men did seek | 35 |
To like, to love, to choose alike.
W. R. | |
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