Though your strangeness frets my heart, 
Yet must I not complain,
You persuade me 'tis but Art,
Which secret love must feign,
If another you affect,
'Tis but a toy to avoid suspect...
Is this fair excusing?
Oh, no, oh, no, 
All is abusing.

When your wished sight I desire,
Suspicion you pretend,
Causeless you yourself retire,
Whilst I in vain attend.
Thus a lover as you say,
Still made more eager by delay...
Is this fair excusing?
Oh, no, oh, no, 
All is abusing.

When another holds your hand,
You'll swear I hold your heart,
Whilst my rival close doth stand,
And I sit far apart,
I am nearer yet than they,
Hid in your bosom, as you say...
Is this fair excusing?
Oh, no, oh, no, 
All is abusing.

Would a rival then I were,
Some else your secret friend,
So much lesser should I fear,
And not so much attend,
Then enioy you every one,
Yet must I seem your friend alone...
Is this fair excusing?
Oh, no, oh, no, 
All is abusing.