Mary Wroth
Am I thus conquered? Have I lost the powers
That to withstand, which joys to ruin me?
Must I bee still while it my strength devours.
And captive, leads me prisoner, bound, unfree?
Love first shall leave men's fancies to them free,
Desire shall quench love's flames, spring hate sweet showers,
Cupid shall lose his darts, have sight, and see
His shame, and Venus hinder happy hours;
Why should wee not love's purblind charms resist?
Must we be servile, doing what he list?
No; seek some host to harbour thee: I fly
Thy babyish tricks, and freedom do profess;
But O my hurt makes my lost heart confess
I love, and must: so farewell liberty.