Those pretty wrongs that liberty commit

When I am sometime absent from thy heart,

Thy beauty and thy years full well befit

For still temptation follows where thou art.

Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won;

Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed;

And when a woman woos, what woman’s son

Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed?

Ay me, but yet thou mightst my seat forbear,

And chide thy beauty, and thy straying youth,

Who lead thee in their riot even there

Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth:

Hers, by thy beauty tempting her to thee,

Thine, by thy beauty being false to me 4Vdw/Sq0HHr9vMv1dd/vWbeOrKfvRe1hvj5nsHUridmLtOR+BnlkylMTs2Sdwzzk