The raging Passion that I feel in mine;
{But I must ne’er enjoy that happy Fate:
{And if I ’m always doom’d to bear your Hate,
{’Tis base to use me at this barb’rous rate.
Oh! it distracts my Soul when I reflect
Upon my slighted Charms, and your Neglect:
And ’twill t’ your Honour as destructive be,
As ’tis conducive to my Misery.——
It now is come to pass what then I fear’d,
When you to leave me in such haste prepar’d.