My Dyet.
1
Now
by my Love, the greatest Oath that is,
None loves you half so well as I:
I do not ask your Love for this;
But for Heave'ns sake believe me, or I dye.
No Servant e're but did deserve
His Master should believe that he does serve;
And I'll ask no more wages, though I starve.
2
'Tis no luxurious Diet this, and sure
I shall not by't too Lusty prove;
Yet shall it willingly endure,
If't can but keep together Life and Love.
Being your Priso'ner and your slave,
I do not Feasts and Banquets look to have,
A little Bread and Water's all I crave.
3
O'n a Sigh of Pity I a year can live,
One Tear will keep me twenty at least,
Fifty a gentle Look will give;
An hundred years on one kind word I'll feast:
A thousand more will added be,
If you an Inclination have for me;
And all beyond is vast Eternity.