It seems I bear
the burden, brunt, and blame
For men less politic than I, who came before
And played the player's part my mistress knows
Too well, and taught her somehow to abhor,
and think she sees in me
A shade of fallen men since time began.
Though I be good as Adam ere the Fall,
"Be off!" she cries. "Fork-tongue, thy name is man."
But I have learned
to woo with boyish guile.
Such fellows I denounce. I see her dreams.
"My love is fair, not feigned, my Dove," I smile.
"Seems, Madam? Nay, it is! I know not seems."