The Young-Mans A. B. C.
Or, Two Dozen of Verses which a Young-Man sent his Love, who proved unkind.
The Tune is, The Young-mans A. B. C.
ACcept, dear love, these
shadows of my grief,
And let thy pitty yield
me some relief!
A Captive to thy will
I must remain;
For thou art only she
must ease my pain.
BE kind to me as I am
kind to thee;
[...]last not thy fame,
with cruelty to me:
but let thy inward parts thy
features grace,
beauty in heart ado [...]ns
the outward face.
COnsider how my
service hath been bent
Continually to gain
thy sweet content:
Canst thou, my Dear
be so obdure to me?
Cross unto him that
is so true to thee.
DEfer no time to
understand my grief,
but with some speed
come ease me with relief:
Thy beauty rare hath
struck my heart so deep,
That all my daies I
mean to wail and weep.
EXcept thou d [...]st some
fauour to me yield,
I shall be sla [...]n with
love in Venu [...] field:
I am so discontent in
mind and heart,
That neither means
nor time can cure my smart.
FOrget thou not the
woe wherein I dwell,
My torments do all
all other griefs excell;
Consider well my woful
sable nights,
and days I spend away
without delights.
GRant me thy love to
mitigate my pain,
The like thou shalt
receive from me again.
So love will we as
doth the turtle-dove,
[...]ose firm affection
ever constant prove.
HAve you respect on this
the grief I take,
Which out of sleep
doth sometimes me awake;
In Dreams I see that
which I most desire;
But waking sets
my senses all on fire.
IN doleful sort these
words I now relate,
which makes me think
my self unfortunate;
To set my heart where
I had nought but scorn,
which makes me rue
the time that I was born
KIll me not in this
desperation deep,
To think how I neither
eat, nor drink, nor sleep;
To think of that which
I cannot obtain,
The which hath near
my heart with sorrow slain.
LEt tender pitty move thy
gentle heart,
And so from thee
my love shall never start,
To gain thy love
i'll venture life and limb,
And for thy sake the
Ocean I will swim.
MY life I loath because
my woes increase,
Therefore my to [...]ments cease
and me release:
then be not harsh whereas
thou wouldst be kind,
but for my love
let me no hatred find.
NEither deny to grant
me this request,
Nor seek thou not to
work me more unrest,
For if you do the
wo [...]st share full to thine.
the worse can come
ends but one life of mine.
OH that thou wouldst but
now conceive aright,
then would my darkness soon
be turn'd to light:
My greatest sorrows
I should then destroy
And all my grief and care
exchange to joy.
PIerce then no deeper
to my bleeding heart,
The which is ready
now for to depart:
He still that loves and
is not lov'd again,
Had better die than
still to live in pain
QUench thou the flames
of this my burning breast,
which for thy sake
no time nor tide can rest:
My love to thee hath
evermore been true,
Therefore the same
see that I have from you.
REgard my grief how
still it more exceeds,
My life is like the Herb
that's spoil'd with weeds:
Among the finest wheat
the tares do grow,
And thou my love hath
wrought my overthrow.
SVVeet love now take on me
thy friend, some care,
Regard my grief that
still lives in dispair
Of thy true love, which
is more dear than gold;
My griefs are more
than numbers can be told.
TOo long I've liv'd and
yet too late repent,
For why the glory
of my life is spent;
In loving her that
never did love me,
O then what day
of pleasure can I see?
WOuld I had never
liv'd thy face to have seen,
O then full happy surely
had I been,
For never any one
under the Sun,
But thou alone,
could me this wrong done.
X Thousand times
more cruel is thy mind,
Then Heathens, Jews,
or Turks are in their kind
Or any one that
on the earth doth go,
And woe is me,
for I have found it so.
YEt if thy mind be
so perversly bent,
That nothing can
procure my hearts content,
Know this from me,
that I have learn'd of late,
No more to dote on her
that doth me hate.
ZEnobia to Tamberlain
ne'er was
More dear than thou
to me, but now alas!
I and my toyl, my sighs
and sobs in vain,
Why should I love,
and not be lov'd again?
& Now to set a
period to my woe,
If thou wilt have me,
prithee tell me so:
if otherwise thou mean'st,
thy mind it send,
Resolve me off [...]on,
and there's an end.
Printed by and for A. Milbourn, and sold by the Booksellers of Pye-corner and London-Bridge.