Think'st Thou that this Love can stand, Whilst Thou still dost say me nay? Love unpaid does soon disband: Love binds Love as Hay binds Hay.
Think'st Thou that this Rope would twine If we both should turn one way? Where both parties so combine, Neither Love will twist nor Hay.
Thus you vain Excuses find, Which your selve and us delay: And Love tyes a Womans Mind Looser then with Ropes of Hay.