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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www.harald-lillmeyer.kulturserver.de