THE
Esquires Tragedy.
OR, THE
Unfortunate Lovers last Farewel,
Together with his Unkind Ladys Lamentation for
his death, when 'twas too late.
Tune of, I Love you more and more each day. Licensed according to Order.
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FOrgive me, if your looks, I thought,
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did once some change discover;
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To be too jealous is the fault,
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of every tender Lover:
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Might truth those kind Reproaches show,
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which you blame so severely,
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A sin (alas!) you little know;
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You little know
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what 'tis to Love sincerely.
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The torment of a long despair,
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I did in silence smother;
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But 'tis a pain I cannot bear,
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to think you love another,
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My Fate (alas!) depends on you,
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I am but what you make me,
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Dearly blest, if you prove true,
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If you prove true,
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undone if you forsake me.
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In the I place my chiefest Joy,
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I seek no other Treasure,
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Then do not all my hopes destroy,
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who loves thee out of measure:
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Forbear to triumph in disdain,
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since here I lye and languish,
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True love is a tormenting pain,
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Tormenting pain,
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which fills my soul with anguish.
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The silent Night I spend in tears,
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and melt in Lamentation,
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And yet no glance of love appears,
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but utter detestation;
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Regarding not my piteous moan,
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my sighs and sad lamenting,
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Your heart like Flint or Marble Stone,
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Or Marble Stone,
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feels not the least relenting.
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Your Beauty gave the fatal wound,
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and did at first allure me,
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In chains of love I now lye bound,
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and you alone can cure me,
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Cast not a Loyal Love away,
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who at your feet lies bleeding
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Unto my sight one smile convey,
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One smile convey,
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for which my tears are pleading.
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Why should a charming beauty bright,
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resolve to be so c uel,
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O let me not be ruin'd quite
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in Loves destroying Fuel;
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See how mine eyes like Fountains flow,
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with chryistal tears before thee,
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Then do not seek his overthrow,
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His overthrow,
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who does this day adore thee.
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Behold I am thy C aptive Slave,
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thy wounded love believe me,
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And you alone my life can save,
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and therefore now reprieve me,
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Yet tho' my grief you'll not remove,
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but still with torments fill me,
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Yet I cannot forbear to love,
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Forbear to love,
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altho' with scorn you kill me.
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If thus you are resolv'd to frown,
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and slight my friendly favour,
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Then to the grave I will go down,
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farewel thou World for ever;
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I find the Triumphs in disdain,
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and still denys the blessing,
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Why should I live to feel this pain,
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To feel this pain,
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which is beyond expressing.
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This said, his Naked Sword he drew,
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and to his heart he sent it,
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And as he bid the World adieu,
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she bitterly lamented,
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C rying, I was unfortunate,
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wou'd I had dy'd before him.
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Thus did she weep, when 'twas too late,
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When 'twas too late,
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for tears could not restore him.
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FINIS.
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