A Lover forsaken,
Of his best Beloved.
To an excellent new Court Tune.
|
JOy to the person of my Love
|
Although that she doth me disdaine,
|
Fixt are my thoughts,
|
And cannot remove:
|
But yet I love in vaine.
|
Shall I lose the sight,
|
Of my joy and hearts delight,
|
Or shall I cease my suit;
|
Shall I strive to touch;
|
Oh no, that were too much,
|
She is forbidden fruit.
|
Ah woe is me,
|
That ever I did see
|
The beauty that did me bewitch,
|
But now alas I must forgoe
|
The treasure I esteemed so much.
|
Oh whither shall my sad heart go;
|
Or whither shall I flie;
|
Sad eccho shall resound my plaint
|
Or else alacke I needs must dye.
|
Shall I by her live,
|
That no life to me will give,
|
But deadly wounds my heart;
|
If I flie away,
|
O will she not cry stay,
|
My sorrow to convert;
|
Oh, no, no, no,
|
She will not doe so,
|
But comfortlesse I must be gone:
|
But ere I goe,
|
To friend or foe,
|
Ile love her, or I will love none.
|
A thousand good fortunes fall to her share
|
Although she hath forsaken me,
|
& fild my sad heart full of despaire,
|
Yet ever will I constant be,
|
For she is the Dame,
|
My tongue shall ever name,
|
For branch of modestie.
|
Chast in heart and minde,
|
Oh were she halfe so kinde,
|
Then would she pitty me.
|
Oh turne againe,
|
Be kinde as thou art faire,
|
And let me in thy bosome dwell,
|
So shall I gaine
|
The treasure of loves paino,
|
Till then, my dearest Love, farewell.
|
|
|
|
|
|