The Love-sick-Maid: Or, Cordelia's lamentation for
the absence of her Gerhard.
To a pleasant new Tune.
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BE gone,
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Thou fatall fiery Feaver, now be gone,
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let Love alone,
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Let his etheriall flames possesse my brest,
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His fires,
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From thy consuming heat no aide requires,
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for swift desires
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Transports my passions to a Throne of rest,
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Where I,
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Who in the Pride of Health, did
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Never feele such warmth to move,
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By sicknes tam'd, am so inflam'd,
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I know no joyes but love:
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And he,
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That trifled many tedious houres
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away my love to try,
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In little space, hath gain'd the grace
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to have more power then I.
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Depart,
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Thou scorching fury, quick from me depart,
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think not my heart
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To thy dull flame shall be a Sacrifice,
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A Maid,
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Dread Cupid now is on thine altar layd,
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by thee betrayd,
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A rich oblation to restore thine eyes:
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But yet
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My faire acknowledgement shall
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prove thou had'st no craft,
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To bed thy bow against a foe,
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that aim'd to catch the shaft:
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For if,
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That at my brest thy Arrowes,
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thou all at once let fly,
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She that receives, a thousand sheaves,
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can doe no more but die.
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No more,
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You learn'd Physitians, tyre your braines no more,
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pray'e give me o're,
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Mine is a cure in Physick never read,
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Although
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You skilfull Doctores all the world doth know
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pray'e let me go,
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You may as well make practise on the dead:
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But if
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My Gerhard daigne to view me
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with the glory of his lookes,
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I make no doubt to live without
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Physitians and their Bookes:
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he,
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That with his balmed kisses
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can restore my latest breath,
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What blisse is this, to gaine a kisse,
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can save a maid from death.
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To you,
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That tell me of another world, I bow,
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and will allow
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Your sacred precepts, if you'l grant me this,
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That he,
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Whom I esteeme of next the Deitie,
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may go with me,
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Without whose presence there can be no blisse
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Go teach,
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Your Tenets of Eternity
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to those that aged be,
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And not perswade, a Love-sick-Maid,
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there's any Heaven but he:
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But stay,
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Methinkes an Icie slumber
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hath possest my franzi braine,
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Pray bid him dye, if you see I
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Shall never wake againe.
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The young-mans answer, or his dying breath,
Lamenting for his faire Cordelia's death,
To a delightfull New Tune
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COme on,
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Thou fatall Messenger from her that's gone,
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lest I alone
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Within that quenchles flame forever fry,
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The lake
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Of love being kindled, wherein none can take
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rest, but awake,
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Where slumber hath no power to close the eye,
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Whilst I,
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That by my faire Cordelia,
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Desires to take a sleepe,
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With lids widespread, upon my Bed,
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Am forc'd a watch to keepe:
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And she,
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That wayted many tedious houres
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my constantcie to try,
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Is now at rest, whilst I opprest,
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faine would but cannot die.
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Dispatch
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Thou scorching fury, quickly now dispatch,
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by death I watch,
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To be releast from this tormenting flame,
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The Dart,
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Sent from dread Cupid sticks fast in my heart
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I wanting Art,
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Had not the power for to resist the same.
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Though she,
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Who by her late acknowledgment,
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Profest thou hadst no craft,
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Yet from thy Bow thou mad'st her know,
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what power lay in the shaft:
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But then
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Thou sent another Arrow,
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which me of hopes bereft,
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Most like a Foe, to wound me so,
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for whom no cure is left.
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Wherefore
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Did you Physitians give my mistris o're,
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had you no more
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Experience, but what you in books have read,
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Or why,
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(You learned Docters) did you cease to try
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your skills, when I,
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Might have reviv'd her, if she'd not bin dead,
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And yet,
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Suppose that I in person,
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Had present bin to view her,
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Is there such grace, in any face,
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To worke so great a cure:
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But now
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I'me come too late to kisse her,
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which were it not in vaine,
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After her death, I'd spend my breath,
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to fetch her back againe.
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Unto
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The faire Elizium thither will I go,
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whereas I know,
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She is amongst those sacred ones prefer'd,
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When I
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Shall be admitted for to come so nigh,
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pardon I'll cry,
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For my long absence wherein I have erred,
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And since,
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By her I was esteemed,
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So much on earth being here,
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Hence for her sake, no rest I take,
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Till I have found her there:
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No more
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But onely I desire
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To heare my passing Bell,
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That Virgins may lament the day,
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Of Gerhards last farewell.
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