 | Ayres, and dialogues |  |
3
Constancy protested.
[1]
Oft have I swore, I'de love no more;Yet when I think on thee,
Alass I cannot give it o're
But must thy captive be;
So many sweets and graces dwel
About thy lips and eyes,
That whosoever once is caught must ever be thy prize.
2
Sure thou hast got some cunning netMade by the god of Fire,
That doth not only catch mens hearts
But fixeth their desire.
For I have laboured to get loose
Some dozen years and more,
And when I think to be releas'd
I'me faster than before.
3
Then welcome sweet captivity,I see there's no relief,
Yet though she steal my liberty,
I'le honor still the theife
And when I cannot hope to see
Thee Mistris of my pain,
My comfort is that I do love
Where I am lov'd again.
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