When first the Magick of thine eye
Usurpt upon my liberty,
Triumphing in my hearts spoyle, thou
Didst lock up thine in such a vow:
When I prove false, may the bright day
Be govern’d by the Moones pale ray,
(As I too well remember) this
Thou saidst, and seald’st it with a kisse.
Oh heavens! and could so soon that tye
Relent in sad apostacy?