This Day thou canst cherish my sorrowful State,
To morrow sweet Jewel, to morrow sweet Jewel,
It may be too late.
You know that young Women has rail'd against Men,
And counted them false and base flatterers, when
We find that your Sexs are as cruel to us,
Or else you would never have Tortur'd me thus:
As now you have done by your Darts of Disdain,
You know that I love you, you know that I love you,
Yet all is in vain.