Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.
Now my charms are all o'erthrown.
O, let my books be then the eloquence and dumb presages of my speaking breast.
If love be blind, it best agrees with night
Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.
I have pursued her, as love hath pursued me