The Restitution.

HEr keen Disdain pierct deep my Breast;
The gaping Orifice dismist
The dearest drops my Heart contain'd:
I ventur'd to her and complain'd,
To ease my smart and still my Fears;
She wept and Bath'd my Wound with Tears. 
Blood will have Blood (they say) and be
Repaid in Kind. 'Tis false in Me. 
For Sylvia wound me yet more deep,
If after you vouchsafe to weep,
(So much I prize your Tears) I'l own
You have not satisfi'd Alone,
But so ore-recompenct my wrongs, that I
Bleeding to Death shall Sylvia's Debtor Dye.