CHROMLETS LILT.
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Since all thy vowes, false Maid
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are blown to air:
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And my poor heart betray'd,
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to sad dispair,
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Into some Wilderness
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My griefs I will express,
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And thy hard heartedness,
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O cruel fate.
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Have I not graven our loves
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on every tree;
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In yonder warden Grove,
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though false thou be:
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Was there not a solemn Oath
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Plighted betwixt us both,
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Thou thy faith, I my truth,
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real to be.
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Some gloomie place I'le find,
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some doleful shade,
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Where neither Sun nor wind,
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ne're entrance had:
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Into that hollow Cave,
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Myself I will down leave,
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For that thing I do crave,
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call'd Constanie.
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Wild Fruits shall be my meat,
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I'le drink the spring:
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The earth shall be my seat
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for covering.
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I'le have the starry sky,
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My Corps to Canopy,
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Till my Soul from me fly,
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to Heavens King.
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I'le have no funeral fire,
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no teers for me,
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No Grave do I desire,
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no Obsequie:
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The courteous Red-breast he,
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With leaves shall cover me,
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And sing my Elegie,
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with reuthful voice.
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And when I souless am,
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I'le visite thee:
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O thou obdured Dame!
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whose crueltie
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Hast kill'd the kindest heart,
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E're pierc'd with Cupids dart,
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No grief my soul shall part
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from loving thee.
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Her Reply.
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HE whom I most affect,
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doth me disdain:
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His causless disrespect
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makes me complain:
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Wherefore I'le me address
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Into some Wilderness,
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Where unheard I'le express
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my anxious pain.
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Did we not both conjure,
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by Stygian lake;
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That Sacred Oath most pure
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the gods did take.
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That we should both prove true
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You to me, I to you.
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By that most solemn Vow
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we both did make.
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But thou persidiously
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didst violate,
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Thy promise made to me,
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to my regrate:
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For all the great respect,
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Wherewith I thee affect,
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Is pay'd with such neglect:
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love's turn'd to hate.
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What Tyrant e're could hatch,
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though inhumane,
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A tortring rack and match
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to this my pain;
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O Barbarous crueltie,
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That I for loving thee
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Should basely murdered be,
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by thy disdain.
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I'le go find out a Cell
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where light ne're shin'd,
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There I'le resolve to dwel,
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And be confin'd,
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Untill it pleaseth thee,
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With love to pity me,
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Forsake thy cruelty,
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and prove more kind.
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In that dark voult I'le call
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for Bats and Owls,
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The Starthoul worst of all
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prodigious fowls;
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Shall be my mate by day,
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By night with her I'le stay,
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In dark and uncouth way,
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mongst wandring souls.
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And in that strange Exile,
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I'le thee arrest,
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Amongst those monsters vile,
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to be my guest:
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Untill that thou relent,
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And thy hard heart repent,
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Freely to give consent
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to my request.
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No cloath shal deck my skin,
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no rayment soft:
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But haircloth rough and thin,
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that's comely wrought;
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No bed will I ly on,
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My pillow shal be stone,
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Each accent prove a groan,
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repeated oft.
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No dainty dish I'le eat,
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compss'd by art,
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No sawces for my meat,
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sweet, sowr, or tairt.
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My food shal be wild fruits,
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Green herbs and unboild Roots,
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Such as poor Hermits foods
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in wild deserts.
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All solace, mirth and game,
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I will despise,
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A doleful mourning then,
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with watering eyes,
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Shal be my musick found,
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Till all the Hills resound,
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And fill the Valleys round
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with pitious cryes.
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Yet for all this, I'le not
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abandon thee;
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Nor alter in a jot,
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my first degree:
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But in despite of Fate,
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Thy griefs to aggravate,
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I'le love thee though thou hate,
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untill I dye.
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Another Reply.
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ALL my desires are past,
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sadly I groan:
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O all my hopes are past,
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pitie my moan.
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I'le to some quiet Grove,
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Where I shal clearly prove,
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That I am wrong'd by love,
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O cruel Fate.
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Deplorable is my state,
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still more and more:
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I'm subject to cruel Fate,
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I mourn therefore.
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Yet I'le be constant still,
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Let fortune frown as't will,
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Heavens keep him from all ill,
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whom I adore,
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Grief addeth unto Grief,
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each day I die.
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I can find no relief,
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where shall I flie?
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I'le to some desert place,
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Where none shal see my face,
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There I'le bewail my case
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untill I die.
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Sillent I'le be a while,
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hoping the best,
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Fortune perhaps may smile,
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and send me rest.
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I will expect the end,
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And on my Fates attend
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The gods some help will send
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to one distrest.
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I'le go a harmitage,
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for I do see,
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Nought in this present age,
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but miserie.
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There none will me molest.
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I will not be opprest,
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But will find quiet rest,
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untill I die.
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Vain hopes I bid adieu,
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for they're not sure:
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Farewel now Fortune true,
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for I'me secure:
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Far from the frowns of Fate,
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And undeserved hate,
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Far better of my state,
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then was before.
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