Where thou complain'st of sorrows in thy heart,
Who lives on earth but therein hath his part?
Are these thy fruits? Are these thy best rewards
For all the pleasing glances, sly regards,
The sweet stol'n kisses, amorous conceits,
So many smiles, so many fair intreats,
Such kindness as Alcilia did bestow
All for my sake! as well thyself dost know?
That Love should thus be used, it is hateful!
But 'all is lost, that's done for one ungrateful.'