Kinde are her answeres,
But her performence keeps no day,
Breaks time as dancers
From their own Musicke when they stray:
All her free favours & smooth words,
Wing my hopes in vain.
O did ever voice so sweet but only fain?
Can true loveyeeld such delay,
Converting joy to pain?
Lost is our freedome,
When we submit to women so:
Why doe we neede them,
When in their best they worke out woe?
there is no wisedome
Can altar ends by Fate prefixt;
O why is the good of man with evil mixt?
Never were days yet cal'd two,
But one night went betwixt.