Presumptuous! I have scorn’d my fate,
And wrought this mischief: all too late
The error of my life I see,
And misery my portion be.
Time, that no more I may recal,
By wise men priz’d, and dear to all,
How have I squander’d! how abus’d!
My friends, my neighbours, basely us’d!
How shall I bear, acquaintance meeting,
Scorn to behold where once was greeting?