’Tis hard to end,—See I begin anew,
And th’ Officer won’t stay; oh! let him go:
I write to entertain my self, not you;
And ’tis so long, you ’ll never read it thro’,
Gods! how have I deserv’d such Plagues as these?
And why was you pick’d out to spoil my Peace?
Oh! why was I not born where I might pass
In Innocence and Happiness my Days?
’Tis too too much to bear, no Tongue can tell
What I endure—Farewel—false Man!—Farewel,