1 Kinde are her answeres, But her performance keeps no day , Breaks time, as dancers From their own Musicke when they stray : All her free fauors and smooth words Wing my hopes in vaine. O did euer voice so sweet but only fain ? Can true loue yeeld such delay, Conuerting ioy to pain? 2 Lost is our freedome, When we submit to women so : Why doe wee neede them, When in their best they worke our woe ? There is no wisedome Can alter ends by Fate prefixt ; O why is the good of man with euill mixt ? Neuer were days yet ca[l]'d two, But one night went betwixt.
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