1. Wilt thou unkind now leave me weepinge, my liefe decaied and death so fast approchinge and yet by thy smile is staid? 2. If my faithfull desert you seeke to requite Why alas doe I live disdained? But if you take delight cruell to see me payned, ah thou my hart hast reft me and now noe sence of paine is left me. 3. Death sure I cannot feele hurtles ungreeved nor can I live of hart deprived. If my deadly panges only content thee, with those sweet lipps that slue mee new liefe infuse and then torment me.
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