I heare some say, this Man is not in loue:
Who? can he loue? a likely thing, they say;
Reade but his Verse, and it will eas’ly proue.
O, iudge not rashly (gentle Sir) I pray,
Because I loosely trifle in this sort,
As one that faine his Sorrowes would beguile:
You now suppose me all this time in sport,
And please your selfe with this Conceit the while;
Yee shallow Censures, sometime see yee not,
In greatest Perils some Men pleasant be,
Where Fame by Death is onely to be got,
They resolute? so stands the case with me;
Where other Men in depth of Passion crie,
I laugh at Fortune, as in iest to die.