After many scorns like these, Which the prouder beauties please; She content was to restore Eyes and limbs, to hurt me more, And would, on conditions, be Reconcil'd [Reconciled] to Love, and me. First, that I must kneeling yield Both the bow, and shaft I held Unto her; which Love might take At her hand, with oath to make Me the scope of his next draught, Aimèd with that self-same shaft. He no sooner heard the law, But the arrow home did draw, And (to gain her by his art) Left it sticking in my heart: Which when she beheld to bleed, She repented of the deed, And would fain have chang'd the fate, But the pity comes too late. Loser-like, now, all my wreak Is, that I have leave to speak; And in either prose or song, To revenge me with my tongue; Which how dexterously I do, Hear and make example too.