Why doth that foole unjustly love accuse,
Who through his owne feare did occasion lose?
To misse an offer'd happinesse must be,
Or want of love, or too much modesty:
Thy scorne Lysarda I have justly won ,
Who wanted light when I embrac'd the Sun.
O look into my heart, thou wilt see there,
'Twas admiration onely caus'd my feare:
Respect curb'd my affection; let me dye,
(Displeasing thee) by thy enflaming eye:
Such death will make thy cruelty confesse,
I never wanted love, though happinesse.