Chapter I

Ah! Whither, whither shall I fly,
A poor unhappy Maid;
To hopeless Love and Misery
By my own Heart betray’d?
Not by Alexis Eyes undone,
Nor by his Charming Faithless Tongue,
Or any Practis’d Art;
Such real Ills may hope a Cure,
But the sad Pains which I endure
Proceed from fansied Smart.