From me your wench, which should have bin my Bride;
You chang’d her Garb, but could not change her face;
Nor change her heart, where once I had a place
Nere thence to be remov’d although she show’d
Some love to you, the Debt to me she ow’d.
Love was a stranger to her till I came.
Whom seeing lov’d, and loving lost her fame.
Sated with her delights I basely prov’d
Th’ ingrate that loath’d what I should still have lov’d.
I turn’d her off, well might she then perplex