- Those lips that Love’s own hand did make,
- Breathed forth the sound that said ‘I hate’,
- To me that languish’d for her sake:
- But when she saw my woeful state,
- Straight in her heart did mercy come,
- Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
- Was us’d in giving gentle doom;
- And taught it thus anew to greet;
- ‘I hate’ she alter’d with an end,
- That followed it as gentle day,
- Doth follow night, who like a fiend
- From heaven to hell is flown away.
- ‘I hate’, from hate away she threw,
- And sav’d my life, saying ‘not you’.