I.

Warn'd and made wise by others' flame,
I fled from whence such mischiefs came;
Shunning the sex that kills at fight.

II.

But, ah! in vain from Fate we fly;
For, first or last, as all must die,
So 't is as much decreed above
That, first or last, we all must love.

III.

My heart, which stood so long the shock
Of winds and waves, like some firm rock,
By one bright spark from Mira thrown,
Is into flame, like powder, blown.

A dedale of my death,
Now I resemble that subtile worme on earth,
Which, prone to its owne euill, can take no rest;
For with strange thoughts possest,
I feede on fading leaues
Of hope, which me deceaues,
And thousand webs doth warpe within my brest:
And thus in end vnto my selfe I weaue
A fast-shut prison, no, but euen a graue.