The Young-Mans A.B.C.
Or, Two Dozen of Verses which a Young-Man sent his
Love, who proved unkind. The Tune is, The Young-mans A.B.C.
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ACcept, dear love, these
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shadows of my grief,
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And let thy pitty yield
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me some relief:
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A Captive to thy will
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I must remain;
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For thou art only she
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must ease my pain.
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BE kind to me as I am
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kind to thee;
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[B]last not thy fame
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with cruelty to me:
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but let thy inward parts thy
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features grace,
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beauty in heart ado[r]ns
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the outward face.
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COnsider how my
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service hath been bent
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Continually to gain
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thy sweet content:
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Canst thou, my Dear
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be so obdure to me?
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Cross unto him that
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is so true to thee.
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DEfer no time to
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understand my grief,
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but with some speed
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come ease me with relief:
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Thy beauty rare hath
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struck my heart so deep,
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That all my daies I
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mean to wail and weep.
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EXcept thou didst some
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favour to me yield,
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I shall be slain with
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love in Venu[s] field:
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I am so discontent in
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mind and heart,
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That neither means
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nor time can cure my smart.
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FOrget thou not the
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woe wherein I dwell,
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My torments do all
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all other griefs excell;
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Consider well my woful
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sable nights,
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And days I spend away
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without delights.
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GRant me thy love to
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mitigate my pain,
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The like thou shalt
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receive from me again.
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So love will we as
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doth the turtle dove,
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[W]hose firm affection
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ever constant prove.
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HAve you respect on this
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the grief I take,
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Which out of sleep
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doth sometimes me awake;
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In Dreams I see that
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which I most desire;
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But waking sets
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my senses all on fire.
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IN doleful sort these
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words I now relate,
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which makes me think
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my self unfortunate;
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To set my heart where
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I had nought but scorn,
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which makes me rue
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the time that I was born.
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KIll me not in this
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desperation deep,
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To think how I neither
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eat, nor drink, nor sleep;
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To think of that which
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I cannot obtain,
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The which hath near
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my heart with sorrow slain.
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LEt tender pitty move thy
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gentle heart,
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And so from thee
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my love shall never start,
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To gain thy love
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ill venture life and limb,
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And for thy sake the
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Ocean I will swim.
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MY life I loath because
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my woes increase,
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Therefore my to[r]ments cease
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and me release:
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then be not harsh whereas
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thou wouldst be kind,
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but for my love
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let me no hatred find.
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NEither deny to grant
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me this request,
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Nor seek thou not to
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work me more unrest,
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For if you do the
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wo[r]st share fall to thine.
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the worse can come
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ends but one life of mine.
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OH that thou wouldst but
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now conceive aright,
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then would my darkness soon
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be turnd to light:
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My greatest sorrows
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I should then destroy
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And all my grief and care
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exchange to joy.
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PIerce then no d[e]eper
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to my bleeding heart,
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The which is ready
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now for to depart:
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He still that loves and
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is not lovd again,
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Had better die than
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still to live in pain.
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QUench thou the flames
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of this my burning breast,
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which for thy sake
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no time nor tide can rest:
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My love to thee hath
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evermore been true,
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Therefore the same
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see that I have from me.
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REgard my grief how
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still it more exceeds,
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My life is like the Herb
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thats spoild with weeds:
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Among the finest wheat
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the tares do grow,
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And thou my love hath
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wrought my overthrow.
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SWeet love now take on me
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thy friend, some care,
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Regard my grief that
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still lives in dispair
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Of thy true love, which
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is more dear than gold;
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My griefs are more
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than numbers can be told.
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TOo long Ive livd and
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yet too late repent,
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For why the glory
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of my life is spent;
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In loving her that
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never did love me,
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O then what day
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of pleasure can I see?
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WOuld I had never
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livd thy face to have seen,
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O then full happy surely
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had I been,
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For never any one
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under the Sun,
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But thou alone,
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could me this wrong done.
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X Thousand times
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more cruel is thy mind,
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Than Heathens, Jews,
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or Turks are in their kind
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Or any one that
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on the earth doth go,
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And woe is me,
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for I have found it so.
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YEt if thy mind be
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so perversly bent,
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That nothing can
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procure my hearts content,
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Know this from me,
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that I have learnd of late.
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No more to dote on her
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that doth me hate.
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ZEnobia to Tamberlain
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neer was
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More dear than thou
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to me, but now alas!
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I find my toyl, my sighs
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and sobs in vain,
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Why should I love,
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and not be lovd again?
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& Now to set a
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period to my woe,
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if thou wilt have me,
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prithee tell me so:
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if otherwise thou meanst,
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thy mind it send,
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Resolve me off o[r] on,
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and theres an end.
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