Loue those beames that breede, all day long, breed and feed, this burning :
Loue I quench with flouds, flouds of teares, nightly teares, and mourning.
But alas, teares coole this fire in vaine,
The more I quench, the more there doth remaine.
Ile goe to the woods, and alone, make my moane, oh cruell :
For I am deceiu'd and bereau'd of my life, my iewell.
O but in the woods, though Loue be blinde,
Hee hath his spies, my secret haunts to finde.
Loue then I must yeeld to thy might, might and spight oppressed,
Since I see my wrongs, woe is me, cannot be redressed.
Come at last, be friendly Loue to me,
And let me not endure this miserie.
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