Before she leaves brawling, she falls to deal blows.
Which early and late doth cause me to cry,
That wedding and hanging is destiny.
The more that I please her, the worse she doth like me,
The more I forbear her, the more she doth strike me,
The more that I get her, the more she doth glike me.
Wo worth this ill fortune that maketh me cry,
That wedding and hanging is deny.
If I had been hanged when I had been married,
My torments had ended, though I had miscarried,