WHEN She was born; She came, with smiling eye,
Laughing into the world, a sign of glee.
When I was born; to her quite contrary,
Wailing I came into the world to see.
Then mark this wonder strange! What nature gave;
From first to th' last, this fashion kept we have.
She in my sad laments doth take great joy:
I, through her laughing, die; and languish must,
Unless that LOVE, to save me from this 'noy,
Do unto me, unworthy, shew so just
As for to change her laughter into pain;
And my complaints, into her joy again.