I sweare to thee by all the rites of loue, by heauens faire head, by earth, & black-fac'd hel, I nere meant other loue but thine to proue, nor in my hart that any else should dwell; Let this suffize, my ioy, my deere, my chiefe, My griefes are too too long, though letter briefe. Twas time to ende, for floods gusht out amaine, out came the springtide of his brinish teares, VVhich whatsoere hee writ blot out againe all blubred so to send it scarce hee dares: And yet hee did; goe thou (quoth hee) vnto her, And for thy maister, treate, sollicite, woo her. And pray thee (if thy Fortune be so good as to be viewd by sunshine of her eyes) Bid her take heede in spilling guiltlesse blood, tell her there's danger in such cruelties: VVith this, hee gaue it to the messenger, Who (making speed) in short time brought it her. Shee, when shee heard from whom the Letter came, returnes it backe againe, and straight replied, My friend (quoth she) hadst thou not told his name perhaps thy Letter, had not beene denied: VVhereat shee paus'd; but yet ile see (quoth shee) With what perswading termes, he flatters mee. Twas quickly read; (God knowes it was but short) griefe would not let the wryter tedious be, Nor would it suffer him fit words to sort, but pens it (chaos-like) confusedly. Yet had it passion to haue turn'd hard stones To liquid moisture, if they heard his moanes. But cruell shee, more hard then any flint, worse then a Tygresse of Hyrcania, Would not be mou'd, nor could his lines take print in her hard hart, so cruell was _Gyneura_. Shee which once lou'd him deerly, (too too well) Now hates him more then any tongue can tell. Oh Nature, chiefest Mother of vs all, why did you giue such apt-beleeuing harts To women-kind, that thus poore men inthrall, and will not dulie waie true loues desarts? O had their harts been like vnto their face, They sure had been of some celestiall race. Shee pittiles, sends backe to _Dom Diego_, and sayes, his words cannot inchant her hart, _Vlisses_-like, shee will not heare _Calypso_, nor lend her eares to such intising arte. Bid him (quoth she) fr[=o] henceforth cease to write, Tell him his Letters agrauate my spight. Full heauie newes it was to stainelesse loue, to him that had enshrin'd her in his thought, And in his hart had honor'd her aboue the world; to wh[=o] all else saue her seem'd nought. Nay, vnto him, whose person, wit, and faire, Might surely with the best make iust compare. But (blinded as shee was) shee steemes him not, hate and disdaine doe neuer brooke respect, Shee did not knowe that beauties foulest blot consisted in true-louing harts neglect. No, she (more stubborne th[=e] the North-east wind) VVould not admit such knowledge in her mind.