Not at first sight, nor with a dribbing shot,
Love gave the wound, which while I breath will bleede:
But knowne, worth did in mine of time proceede,
Till by degrees it had full conquest got.
I sawe and lik’d, I lik’d but loved not,
I lov’d, but did not straight what Love decreede:
At length to Loves decrees, I forst agreede:
Yet with repining at so partiall lot.
Now even that foot-steppe of lost libertie
Is gone, and now like slave borne Muscovite:
I call it praise to suffer tyrannie,
And now imploy the remnant of my wit
To make my selfe believe that all is well,
While with a feeling skill I paint my hell.