Tis not 'ith' pow'r of all thy scorne

Tis not 'ith' pow'r of all thy scorne

Or unrelenting bate,

To quench my flames, or make them burne

With heat more temperate:

Still doe I struggle with dispaire,

And ever court disdain;

And though you ne're prove lesse severe,

Ile doat upon my paine.

Yet meaner beauties cannot claime

In Love this tyranny,

They must pretend an equall flame,

Or else our passions die:

You fair Clarinda you alone

Are priz'd at such a rate

To have a Votary of one

Whom you doe reprobate.