The Punishment, which ought to fall on you.
’Tis plain, I never yet enjoy’d your Love,
Since all my Torments can’t your Pity move,
Feign’d were the Transports, false the Vows you made,
And only us’d that I might be betray’d.
Your whole Design was to ensnare my Heart
Then cruelly to act a Tyrant’s Part.
T’ abuse a Love like mine, is highly base,
And cannot but redound to your Disgrace.
Who would have thought, when of my love possest,