The Forsaken Maid

Go fickle Man and teach the Moon to change,
The Winds to vary, the coy Bee to range:
You that despise the conquest of a Town
Renderd without resistance of one frown.

Is this of easie faith the recompence?
Is my prone loves too prodigall expence,
Rewarded with disdain? did ever dart,
Rebound from such a penetrable heart?

Diana, in the service of whose Shrine,
My selfe to single life I will confine,
Revenge thy Votaresse; for unto thee
The reeling Ocean bends his a zure knee.

And since he loves upon rough Seas to ride,
Grant such an Adria, whose swelling Tide,
And stormy tongue may his false Vessell wrack,
And make the Cordage of his heart to crack.