Upon a Delaying Lady

Come, come away,Or let me go;Must I here stayBecause y'are slow,And will continue so?Troth, lady, no.

I scorn to beA slave to state:And, since I'm free,I will not waitHenceforth at such a rateFor needy fate.

If you desireMy spark should glow,The peeping fireYou must blow,Or I shall quickly growTo frost or snow.