A PRETTY NEW
SONG
Of NANCIES Unkindness to her LOVER.
To its own propper Tune:
True Love is a Tormenting Pain.
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As I was a ranging yon Forrest of Fancies,
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With the nine Muses attending me,
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Into a Bour I spyed beautiful Nancie,
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Sadly bemoaning her Destinie;
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Saying Alas! Where shall I wander,
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Where to find out my own dear Swain,
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Patience of Sorrow in heart I lay under,
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True love is a Tormenting pain.
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But when I consider the promise I made him,
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That I would ever be Just and True,
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But now since I find I have betray'd him,
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This doth my a Sorrows fresh renew,
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Every Night instead of Sleeping,
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Tears I do shed like showers of Rain,
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My heart would break if it were not for weeping
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True Love is a Tormenting pain.
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We for many long years have been parted,
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Never expecting to behold him more,
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But since I found that I was false hearted,
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As for to slight him and leave him o're.
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I to forget him do my endeavour,
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But now I find it is all in vain,
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Here in my breast is a violent Fire,
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True Love is a Tormenting Pain.
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Its not my sad sighs and sorrowful ditty,
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That ever did yet prevail with thee,
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Because I was so void and want of all Pity,
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As to endeavour to Torment thee,
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But now my poor heart will soon be broken,
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Here I can no longer remain,
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Sad sighs and sorrow and grief is a token,
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True Love is such a Tormenting pain.
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But O that kind Cupid would yeild me this favour
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As to let one of his Arrows Fly,
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Into his bosom that from me did sever,
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Let him be wounded as well as I.
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Then would he pitty my condition,
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And with much speed return again,
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Be but so kind as grant my Petition,
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True Love is such a Tormenting pain.
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