The Lovers Dreame:
Who sleeping, thought he did imbrace his Love,
Which when he wakd, did no such matter prove;
Yet afterwards her Love he did enjoy,
By sending a Letter by a trusty young Boy.
To the tune of, I laid me downe to sleepe.
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AS I was walking all alone,
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and musing in my minde,
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With many a sigh and grone,
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I studied how to find,
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Some dainty pleasant Theame,
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to write unto my Love,
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And I fell in a dreame,
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and marke how it did prove.
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I laid me downe to sleepe,
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thinking my Love lay by,
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But when I did awake,
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my dreame it provd a lye:
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I sweat, and I am cold,
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I freeze, and am a fire;
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I see, and cannot behold
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the thing that I most desire.
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Thus dreaming as I lay,
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me thought she smild on me,
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Which did increase my joy,
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such happinesse to see:
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I spake unto my Love,
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and she did answer make:
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But so it did not prove,
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when as I did awake.
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Me thought I saw my Love,
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and with her I did stray,
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Hard by a pleasant Grove,
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where we a while did stay.
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But time that swift doth goe,
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did run too suddenly:
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O time why didst thou so?
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thou madst my Love to cry:
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But when I saw her eyes,
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bedewd with brinish teares,
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Then I did soone surmise
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her heart was struck with feares.
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And I did soone require
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some reason for to know:
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Her answer did admire
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my heart with joy and woe.
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Quoth she, I love thee deare,
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yet so I dare not say,
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Because I live in feare
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of my true Loves decay:
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My Father he is rich,
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and I his onely Heire,
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And he at me will grutch,
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to wed ons poore and bare.
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Me thought I answer made,
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that I was yong and faire,
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And having Art and Trade,
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I bade her not take care.
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With that me thought she smild,
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and to me she did say;
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My Love be reconcild,
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and Ile be thine for aye.
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My mind was thus imployd,
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and yet I nothing do;
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I thought Id got a Bride,
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but yet it was not so:
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Me thought I had my will,
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according to my mind,
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But I do want it still,
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my Love proves not so kind:
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The second Part, To the same Tune.
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THus sleeping still I lay,
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betwixt hope and despaire;
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But at the breake of day,
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O then began my care:
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When as I did awake,
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and found it nothing so,
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Then for my true Loves sake,
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I did lament with woe.
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I cannot come my Love,
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to the place where thou art;
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But I will write to thee,
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if thou wilt take my part,
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The complaint of my poore heart,
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receive it as you will:
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My Love may ease my smart,
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or she my heart may kill.
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My heart is not mine owne,
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nor I at liberty:
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All joyes are from me gone,
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alacke what remedy.
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I would I were in place,
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where my true Love doth rest,
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And then I would imbrace,
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the joyes that I like best.
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Would Jove would pleased be,
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for to transforme my shape,
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That I unknowne may see
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my Love, and so escape:
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And yet I would be seene
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of her and none but she:
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And thus I would begin,
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Faire Lady, pitie me.
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But some perchance may say,
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that I my Love would fright,
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To those I answer, Nay,
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she is my hearts delight:
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Although I wish to change,
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my selfe in some mans hue,
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Yet I would not seeme strange,
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unto my Lover true.
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And if I find her coy,
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and grieved with vexation,
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Yet I with her will play,
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to gaine my expectation.
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Then happily she will
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consider of my woe:
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Thus I will use my skill,
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and glad to please her so.
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I would I had some Page,
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that would to me be true,
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In haste to run a voyage,
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that my true Love may view
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This Letter of my griefe,
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and send me some reply:
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If she yeeld no reliefe,
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alacke, then must I die.
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Then straight a Page he sent
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unto her hastily:
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At whose returne content
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was brought him speedily.
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When his true Love did view,
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his writing in such kind;
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Quoth she I will be true,
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and so my Love shall find.
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O haste, thou little Page,
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make haste unto my Love,
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That death may cease his rage,
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and joyes may sorrowes move:
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And I my selfe will come,
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before the breake of day,
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When darknesse is begun,
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then Ile steale hence away.
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My Father must not know,
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what you about do come:
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For if he should be so,
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my Love were quite undone.
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Therefore make haste againe,
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and save my true Loves life:
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I will release his paine,
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and prove his loving wife.
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