can she excuse my wrongs with virtue s cloak shall i call her good when she proves unkind are those clear fires which vanish into smoke must i praise the leaves where no fruit i find no no where shadows do for bodies stand thou may st be abus d if thy sight be dim cold love is like to words written on sand or to bubbles which on the water swim wilt thou be thus abused still seeing that she will right thee never if thou canst not o ercome her will the love will be thus fruitless ever was i so base that i might not aspire unto those high joys which she holds from me as they are high so high is my desire if she this deny what can granted be if she will yeld to that which reason is it is reason s will that love should be just dear make me happy still be granting this or cut off delays if that die i must better a thousand times to die than for to live thus still tormented dear but remember it was i who for thy sake did die contended