Left me in desolation, and where none
Compassionated when they heard me groan.
What could he judge the Parish then would think,
To see me fair, his Brat as black as Ink?
If they had eyes, they’d swear I were no Nun,
But got with Child by some black Africk Son,
And so condemn me for my Fornication,
To beat them Hemp to stifle half the Nation.
Well, since ’tis so, I’le alter this base Fate,
And lay his Bastard at some Noble’s Gate;