The second Song

You Ladies fair,
That worthy are
Of all to be beloved,
And yet have hearts
So hard that darts
From eyes have never moved.

You cruel Saints,
That slight complaints,
And scorn to pity any;
I hope to see
The time when ye
Shall be in love with many.

Which when I hear,
Then I will swear
That you are rightly fitted:
And that himself
The little Elfe
On you hath well acquitted.

But do your worst,
I'm not accurst,
My Mistris is no coy one:
For she is kind,
And hath no mind
Within her to destroy one.