_Is it not strange thou and thy friends should say, Thou art undone by me? Lets see which way. Have I not done to my great toyl and pain, What all thy friends cannot undo again. Call but to mind the pleasures thou hast tasted, The hours and minutes which with thee I wasted To bring thee to perfection; and to teach Thee learning, far above the Sexes reach. Have I not taught thee oft’ Astronomy, Within thy Mothers Garden, shew’d thee all The Starry course, and Sphears Celestial. Did I not teach thee Poetry that night And how in Tripped Dactyls thou shouldst write. I taught thee then _Geometry_, the notion Of _length_ and _bredth_, _egality_, _proportion_ Of _Quadrant Triangles_; the way to enter _Circles_, or _Semi-circles_; how the _Center_ Stands ever _fixt_, how that every _line_ _Direct_, or _oblique_, _circular_, or trine Hath still its _ending_; how to take the _height_ Of any _blazing bearded Star_ by night. I taught thee _Musicks harmony_ to know, To keep _true time_, where thou shouldst _rest_, and how: Learn’d thee likewise thy notes, _large_, _long_, & brief, Prickt Minom, with a Crotchet, and the chief Of the lov’d Art, good discant for to make Upon a plain Song, _Discords_ also take With a sweet close, and meltingly to fall Into a Treble, ravishing withal. I shew’d thee why Artists hold six _Cliffs_ best, And why ’tis prized far above the rest, Because it keeps the middst; the very _heart_ And Soul of Musick is the inner part. Yet art undone thou saidst? Is to impart The hidden secrets of mysterious art Undoing to thee. Hadst thou ever spent Thy means upon me, or thy money lent, And had not paid the Int’rest back to thee, Thou and thy friends might then have rail’d at me. What wert thou before I knew thee, but an Ass, A rude neglected home-spun Country lass, Knowing not how to speak, to go or look, But hide thy self when seen in every nook. And blush, nay tremble if thou wert found out; Strive to be gone again, scratch, cry, and pout If one but touch thy Apron, and wouldst spit In’s mouth should come to kiss thee: for thy wit It did extend but unto no, and I, Confess this truth, or else in faith you lye. This was thy eloquence; why did I love thee? Young, plump and fair thou wert, and that did move me. I took thee and refin’d thee, made thee new, Alter’d thy nature, chang’d thy former hew: Taught thee to kiss, embrace, and entertain A lover with that Sp’rit and catching vein, The Goddess of delight in her own sport May strive to equal thee, but must come short. Where hadst thou all thy _breeding_ but from me?