The Dying Lovers Reprieve.
OR,
The Reward of True Love.
With sighs and tears her love he doth desire,
Since Cupid hath his senses set on fire;
His torment and his pain to her he shews,
With all his protestations and his vows:
At last she yields to grant him some relief,
And make him joyful after all his grief.
Tune of, Digby's Farewel; Or, Give me the Lass, etc.
With Allowance. Ro. L'Estrange.
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FAirest and dearest to thee I am bound,
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For love and affection thy servant to be,
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Your skill I desire to heal up my wound,
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There's none in the world that can cure it but thee:
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Then dearest be pleased to do your endeavour,
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And i'le be your servant to wait on you ever;
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And thus you compel me unto you to cry,
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Grant me thy affection, or else I shall dye.
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The ground of my torment to thee i'le impart,
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'Twas Cupid with's Arrow that wounded my heart,
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Which pains me and grieves me that I cannot rest,
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brings tears from my eyes, & deep sighs from my breast,
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Which makes me go mourning to think on my grief,
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My heart lies a burning for want of relief;
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No hopes I have left to be eased of pain,
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Unless you requite me with true love again.
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Then dearest be pleased to hear my request,
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And ease a poor patient and set me at rest;
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For you'r the Phisitian which can by your art,
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In this sad condition give ease to my heart:
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'Tis onely your love that so much I desire,
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Since thy charming my senses doth fire:
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Then dearest release me out of all my pain,
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And strive to requite me with true love again.
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LEt me be so happy your love to imbrace,
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Or why did you shew me your beautiful face?
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Why did you not cover your features so rare?
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Which caused my heart to be caught in a snare:
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Then might I have lived in peace and content,
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& never have known what loves torments had ment;
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But now you compel me unto you to cry,
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I prithee love tell me, shall I live or dye?
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Your love then restore me, and grant what I crave,
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Or else to remove me from hence to the Grave;
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Except you release me, no joy I can find,
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Whereby it may ease me and settle my mind:
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For I am inthralled by your rowling eyes,
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And you are the object wherein the fault lies:
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Which makes me go mourning to think on my pain,
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My heart lies a burning for cruel disdain.
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Although for my love you do prove so unkind,
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I cannot refrain but must utter my mind;
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I have been your servant a long time in vain,
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My love it was fervent, and doth still remain;
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No hopes to remove it I find to my grief,
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Unless you in pitty do grant me relief;
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Then do not deny me when as I do cry,
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O grant me your favour, or else I shall dye,
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Therefore I beseech you to hear my complaint,
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And take some pitty before I do faint:
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For I am cast down with one glance of your eye,
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And when you do frown, 'tis O then I could dye.
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A smile from your beauty doth ravish my mind,
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Because I am pleased when as you seem kind;
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For then I do hope to find some relief,
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At the hand of my dear, who hath caused my grief.
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But when I consider you cast me aside,
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O then I do fear you will not be my Bride;
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But this I desire, and this I do crave,
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To have some requital for being your Slave:
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And so presume for to venture my Dove,
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To seal with a kiss the Indenture of love:
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Then make me no longer in vain for to cry,
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But now tell me whether I shall live or dye.
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Kind Sir then (she said) since your love it is true,
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I will heal your wound, and be kind unto you;
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For well I have minded your sorrow and pain,
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Which you have endured by my cruel disdain:
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But your fancy to please, I grant what you crave,
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And your grief for to ease, my body you have;
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Then wipe off your tears and cast sorrows away,
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For now I will please you by night and by day,
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These words so revived his sorrowful mind,
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He was overjoy'd for to see her so kind;
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He straightway imbrac'd her, and gave her a kiss,
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To seal as a pledge of a true lovers bliss:
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And so from that instant united in love,
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With constant affection that ne'r shall remove:
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And now they live happy in joy and content,
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And for what is past have no cause to repent.
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