Woe to me! and do you swear
Me to hate, but I forbear?
Cursed be my destinies all!
That brought me so high to fall.
Soon with my death I will please thee!
No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be.
FIFTH SONG.
While favour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought;
Thought waited on delight; and speech did follow thought.
Then grew my tongue and pen records unto thy glory.
I thought all words were lost that were not spent of thee;
I thought each place was dark, but where thy lights would be;
And all ears worse than deaf, that heard not out thy story.
I said thou wert most fair, and so indeed thou art.
I said thou art most sweet, sweet poison to my heart.
I said my soul was thine, O that I then had lied!
I said thine eyes were stars, thy breasts the milken way,
Thy fingers CUPID'S shafts, thy voice the Angels' lay:
And all I said so well, as no man it denied.
But now that hope is lost, unkindness kills delight;
Yet thought and speech do live, thought metamorphosed quite:
For RAGE now rules the reins, which guided were by PLEASURE.
I think now of thy faults, who late thought of thy praise.
That speech falls now to blame which did thy honour raise.
The same key open can, which can lock up a treasure.
