THE
Young Man's A, B, C:
OR,
Two Dozen of Verses which a Young Man sent his Love, who
proved u[n]kind. Tune, The Virgin's A, B, C, etc.
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ACcent, dear Love, these
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Shadows of my Grief,
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And let thy Pity yield
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me some Relief:
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A Captive to thy Will
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I must remain;
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For thou art only she
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must ease my Pain.
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BE kind to me, as I am
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kind to thee;
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Blast not thy Fame
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with Cruelty to me:
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But let thy inward Parts thy
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Features grace,
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Beauty in Heart adorns
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the outward Face.
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COnsider how my
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Service hath been bent
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Continually to gain
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thy sweet Content:
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Canst thou, my Dear,
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be so obdure to me?
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Cross unto him that
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is so true to thee?
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DEfer no time to
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understand my Grief,
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But with some speed
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come ease me with Relief:
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Thy Beauty rare hath
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struck my Heart so deep,
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That all my Days I
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mean to wail and weep.
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EXcept thou dost some
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Favour to me yield,
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I shall be slain with
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Love in Venuss Field;
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I am so discontent in
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Mind and Heart,
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That neither Means
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nor Time can cure my Smart.
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FOrget thou not the
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Woe wherein I dwell,
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My Torments do all
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other Griefs excel;
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Consider well my woful
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sable Nights,
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And Days I spend away
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without Delights.
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GRant me thy Love
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to mitigate my Pain,
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The like thou shalt
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receive from me again:
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So love will we
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as doth the Turtle-dove,
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Whose firm Affection
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ever constant prove.
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HAve you Respect on this
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the Grief I take,
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Which out of sleep
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doth sometimes me awake;
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In Dreams I see that
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which I most desire;
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But waking sets
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my Senses all on Fire.
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IN doleful sort these
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Words I now relate,
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Which makes me think
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myself Unfortunate;
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To set my Heart
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where I had nought but Scorn,
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Which makes rue
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the time that I was born.
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KIll me not in
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this Desparation deep,
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To think how I neither
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eat, nor drink, nor sleep;
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To think of that which
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I cannot obtain,
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The which hath near
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my Heart with Sorrow slain.
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LEt tender Pity
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move thy gentle Heart,
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And so from thee
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my Love shall never start;
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To gain thy Love
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I'll venture Life and Limb,
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And for thy sake the
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Ocean I will swim.
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MY Life I loath
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because my Woes increase,
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Therefore my Torments cease,
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and me release:
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Then be not harsh
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whereas thou shouldst be kind,
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But for my Love
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let me no Hatred find.
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NEither deny to grant
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me this Request,
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Nor seek thou not
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to work me more Unrest;
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For if you do,
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the worst share fall to thine;
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The worst can come,
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ends but one Life of mine.
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OH that thou wouldst
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but now conceive aright,
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Then would my Darkness
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soon be turn'd to Light:
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My greatest Sorrows
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I should then destroy,
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And all my Grief and Care
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exchange to Joy.
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PIerce then no deeper
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to my bleeding Heart,
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The which is ready
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now for to depart:
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He still that loves,
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and is not lov'd again,
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Had better die,
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than still to live in pain.
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QUench thou the Flames
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of this my burning Breast,
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Which for thy sake
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no Time nor Tide can rest:
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My Love to thee
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hath evermore been true,
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Therefore the same
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see that I have from you.
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REgard my Grief
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how still it more exceeds,
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My Life is like the Herb
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that's spoil'd with Weeds:
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Among the finest Wheat
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the Tares do grow;
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And thou, my Love,
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hath wrought my Overthrow.
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SWeet Love, now take on me,
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thy Friend, some Care,
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Regard my Grief
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that still lives in Dispair
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Of thy true Love, which
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is more dear than Gold;
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My Griefs are more
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than numbers can be told.
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TOo long I've liv'd,
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and yet too late repent,
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For why, the Glory
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of my Life is spent,
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In loving her,
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that never did love me;
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O then what Day
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of Pleasure can I see.
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WOuld I had never
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liv'd thy Face to ha' seen,
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O then full happy,
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surely had I been;
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For never anyone
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under the Sun,
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But thou alone,
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could me this Wrong have done.
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X Thousand times
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more cruel is thy Mind,
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Than Heathens, Jews,
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or Turks are in their Kinds
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Or anyone
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that on the Earth doth go;
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And Woe is me,
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for I have found it so.
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YEt if thy Mind be
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so perversly bent,
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That nothing can
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procure my Heart's Content,
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Know this from me,
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that I have learn'd of late,
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No more to dote on her
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that doth me hate.
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ZEnobia to Tamberlain
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ne'r was
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More dear than thou
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to me; but now, alas!
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I find my Toyl, my Sighs
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and Sobs in vain,
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Why should I love,
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and not be lov'd again?
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& Now to set
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a Period to my Woe,
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If thou wilt have me,
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prithee, tell me so?
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If otherwise thou mean'st,
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thy Mind it send,
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Resolve me off or on,
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and there's an End.
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