Whilst I with grief

Whilst I with grief did on you look,

When Love had turn'd your Brain,

From you, I the contagion took,

And for you bore the pain.

Marcella, then your Lover prize,

And be not too severe;

Use well the conquest of your Eyes,

For Pride has cost you dear.

Ambrosio treats your Flames with scorn,

And racks your tender mind,

Withdraw your Smiles and Frowns return,

And pay him in his Kind.