Loves Unspeakable Passion:
Or, The Youngman's Answer to
Tender hearts of London City.
Beauty over Love doth triumph,
causing Lovers to complain;
But 'tis pitty, one so pritty,
should be filled with disdain;
To a pleasant New Play-House Tune Or, Tender hearts, etc.
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HOw can I conceal my passion,
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when I am used in this fashion,
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by that little blinking by,
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Who doth vex me and perplex me,
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and my comforts doth destroy.
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Oh forbear me cruel Cupid,
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Thou hast made me dull and stupid;
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and my sences are quite lost:
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Ne're was no man, by a woman,
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so bewitcht and strangely crost.
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I am with her beauty wounded,
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In my thoughts I am confounded,
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would I had ne'r seen her face;
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For with desire, I burn like fire,
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and she ne'r pitties this my case.
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Come and seize me death, and ease me,
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Nothing else but she can please me,
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my soul I cannot call my own;
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She hath won me and undone me,
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night and day I sigh and groan.
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For to leave her I endeavour,
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Then I fall into a Feavour;
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burning with a quenchless fire;
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But her beauty says 'tis duty,
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for to languish in desire.
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Then I fly into a passion,
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And tare my hair in my vexation,
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I curse the day when first I see her;
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Then my speech falters, my mind alters,
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and straight I cry she is my dear.
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Tis not common for a woman,
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For to boast she will undo man,
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yet I find she often doth;
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Oh 'tis pitty one so witty,
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shows no favour, knows no truth.
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You that are in spoyl delighted,
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Boasting that your lover's slighted,
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think not always thus to reign;
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When age oretakes ye, love forsakes ye,
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you'l be paid for your disdain,
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Oh consider whilst you flourish,
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That your Lover you should nourish,
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not requite him with disdain;
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For if you frown, you cast him down,
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and turns his pleasures into pain.
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And his trouble soon grows double,
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Oh 'tis better to be noble,
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send me then a gentle smile,
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That may ease me, not displease me,
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but my sorrows all beguile.
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Then will I in heart adore thee,
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Like an image stand before thee,
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fearing to displease thyne eye;
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Then come and cherish, or I perish,
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like a fainting Lover dye.
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Spare my life dear, I intreat thee,
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With sweet language I will greet thee
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for to ease my mortal pain;
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Then forever, I'le endeavour
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to forget thy gross disdain.
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