Well, If Fortune Be A Woman, She's

Praise Us As We Are Tasted, Allow Us As We Prove.

Enjoy'd No Sooner But Despised Straight, Past Reason Hunted, And No Sooner Had Past Reason Hated

O, Train Me Not, Sweet Mermaid, With Thy Note, To Drown Me In Thy Sister’s Flood Of Tears.

A Wretched Soul, Bruised With Adversity, We Bid Be Quiet When We Hear It Cry. But Were We Burd'ned With Like Weight Of Pain, As Much Or More We Should Ourselves Complain: So Thou, That Hast No Unkind Mate To Grieve Thee, With Urging Helpless Patience Wouldst Relieve Me; But If Thou Live To See Like Right Bereft, This Fool-begged Patience In Thee Will Be Left.

O, Then, What Graces In My Love Do Dwell, That He Hath Turn'd A Heaven Unto Hell