Song

Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care
To seek t' ensnare
A heart so poor as mine:
Some fools there be
Hate liberty,
Whom with more ease thou mayst confine.

Alas! when with much charge thou hast
Brought it at last
Beneath thy power to bow,
It will adore
Some twenty more,
And that, perhaps, you'll not allow.

No, Chloris, I no more will prove
The curse of love,
And now can boast a heart
Hath learn'd of thee
Inconstancy,
And cozen'd women of their art.