I Wonder That You Will Still Be

As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.

Thou Art The Mars Of Malcontents.

Such An Act That Blurs The Grace And Blush Of Modesty; Calls Virtue Hypocrite; Takes Off The Rose From The Fair Forehead Of An Innocent Love, And Sets A Blister There; Makes Marriage Vows As False As Dicers' Oaths.

To Fear The Foe, Since Fear Oppresseth Strength, Gives In Your Weakness Strength Unto Your Foe.

Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate, Hate Of My Sin, Grounded On Sinful Loving.