VII.
Ingrateful Love! since thou hast played thy part!
(Enthralling him, whom Time hath since made free)
It rests with me, to use both Wit and Art,
That of my wrongs I may revenged be:
And in those eyes, where first thou took'st thy fire!
Thyself shalt perish, through my cold desire.
VIII.
"Grieve not thyself, for that cannot be had!
And things, once cureless, let them cureless rest!"