Come thou forsaken Willow, wind my head,
And noise it to the world my Love is dead:
I am forsaken, I am cast away.
And left for every lazy Groom to say,
I was unconstant, light, and sooner lost
Than the quick Clouds we see, or the chill Frost
When the hot Sun beats on it. Tell me yet,
Canst thou not love again thy _Amoret_?

_Per_. Thou art not worthy of that blessed name,
I must not know thee, fling thy wanton flame
Upon some lighter blood, that may be hot
With words and feigned passions: _Perigot_
Was ever yet unstain'd, and shall not now
Stoop to the meltings of a borrowed brow.

_Amo_. Then hear me heaven, to whom I call for right,
And you fair twinkling stars that crown the night;
And hear me woods, and silence of this place,
And ye sad hours that move a sullen pace;
Hear me ye shadows that delight to dwell
In horrid darkness, and ye powers of Hell,
Whilst I breath out my last; I am that maid,
That yet untainted _Amoret_, that plaid
The careless prodigal, and gave away
My soul to this young man, that now dares say
I am a stranger, not the same, more wild;
And thus with much belief I was beguil'd.
I am that maid, that have delaid, deny'd,
And almost scorn'd the loves of all that try'd