The Love-sick-Maid: Or, Cordelia's lamentation for
the absence of her Gerheard, To a pleasant new Tune.
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BE gone
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Thou fatal fiery Feavor, now be gone,
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let love alone,
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Let his etherial flames possess my breast,
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His fires
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From thy consuming heat no aid 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 feel such warmth to move
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By sicknesse 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 hours
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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 alter laid
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by thee betray'd
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A rich oblation to restore thine eyes
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But yet
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My fair acknowledgement will
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prove thou hadst no craft
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To bend 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 breast thy arrows,
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thou all at once let flye
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She that receives a thousand sheaves
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can do no more but dye
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No more,
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Your learned Physitians tyre your brains no more
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pray y' give me ore
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Mine is a cure in Physick never read
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Although
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You skilful Doctors all the world do know
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pray ye 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 Gerheard daign to view me,
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with the glory of his looks
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I make no doubt, to live without
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Physitians and their books
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Tis he,
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That with his balmed kisses,
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can restore my latest breath
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What bliss is this, to gain 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 youle grant me this
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That he,
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Whom I esteem of next the Deity
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may go with me,
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Without whose presence there can bee 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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Methinks an Icye slumber
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hath possest my frenzy brain
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Pray bid him dye, if you see I
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shall never wake again.
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The Young Mans Answer, or his dying breath,
Lamenting for his fair Cordelia's Death.
To a delightful new Tune.
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COme on
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Thou fatal messenger from her that's gone,
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left I alone
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Within that quenchlesse 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 away
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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 fair Cordelia
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desires to take a sleep
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With lids wide spread upon my bed
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Am forc'd a watch to keep
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And she
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That waited many tedious hours
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my constancy to try
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Is not at rest, whilst I opprest,
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fain would but cannot dye,
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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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Thou she,
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Who by her late acknowledgement
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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 ore,
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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 Doctors did you cease to try
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your skils, when I
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Might have revived her, if she'd not been dead
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And yet
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Suppose that I in person
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Had present been to view her,
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Is there such grace in any face,
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To work so great a cure,
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But now
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I'me come too late to kiss her
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which were it not in vain,
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After her death, I'd spend my breath;
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to fetch her back again.
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Unto
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The fair Elizium thither will I go
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whereas I know;
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She is amongst those sacred ones preferr'd
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When I,
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Shall bee admitted for to come so nigh,
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pardon Ile 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 Ile take,
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Till I have found her there
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No more
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But only I desire
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To hear my passing Bell
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That Virgins may lament the day
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of Gerheards last farewel.
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