Kinde are her answeres,
But her performance keeps no day;
Breaks time, as dancers
From their own Musicke when they stray:
All her free fauors and smooth words,
Wing my hopes in vaine.
O did euer voice so sweet but only fain?
Can true loue yeeld such delay,
Conuerting ioy to pain?
Lost is our freedome
When we submit to women so:
Why doe wee neede them,
When in their best they worke our woe?
There is no wisedome
Can alter ends, by Fate prefixt.
O why is the good of man with euill mixt?
Neuer were days yet cal'd two,
But one night went betwixt.
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