The twelfth song

Ican no greater torment find
Then ly with one I cannot love
Each minute seems a year confin'd,
So slowly then do minutes move.
When me his hap 's to kiss, or touch,
I with him am offended much.

If he doth chance to me to say,
Can it be possible (my Dear)
You so abstemious are from play
That you (against your will) ly here?
I am enforc'd in complement
To tell him I have much content.

Imagine Ladies, you that know
What a vexation it is,
If from my heart I speak or no,
And do not counterfeit all this:
For when to him I turn my back,
I mouthes at him in hatred make

All that enamoured are of me,
Whom I cannot affect again,
Thus from their passions I do free;
I have no pleasure in their gain:
And (ifthey think I any take)
Tis with their money I it make

Women that are by want opprest
And therefore yield unto this vice,
Know all the world they do detest
Embraces that are not their choice.
The want of mony is unjust,
To make them subject unto Iust.