Wit A Sporting In a pleasant Grove Of New Fancies By H. B. [i.e. Henry Bold] |
That he is love sick and cannot write Verses. |
Wit A Sporting In a pleasant Grove Of New Fancies | ||
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That he is love sick and cannot write Verses.
Pettie
, it doth not me delight
Verses as before to write,
Quite thorow thrust
With deeply wounding lust.
Verses as before to write,
Quite thorow thrust
With deeply wounding lust.
With lust, the which doth me desire
Bove all men else to set on fire!
Or for young boyes,
Or for some female toyes.
Bove all men else to set on fire!
Or for young boyes,
Or for some female toyes.
This the third winter off has tore
The forests dress, since I forbore
To pine away
For my Inachia.
The forests dress, since I forbore
To pine away
For my Inachia.
Through town O what a sport was I?
(For I am sham'd at such foolery)
And I repent
My feasting-merrimens;
(For I am sham'd at such foolery)
And I repent
My feasting-merrimens;
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In which my grief and silent tongue,
And sighs from my hearts botom sprung!
Argued me
Inamorate to be.
And sighs from my hearts botom sprung!
Argued me
Inamorate to be.
And mourning to thee, I did cry,
A poor mans canded ingenie
VVas all but vain
To stand against her gain;
A poor mans canded ingenie
VVas all but vain
To stand against her gain;
VVhen as the uncivil power
Of raging wine, had from its bower
My secret thought
With stronger liquer wrought
Of raging wine, had from its bower
My secret thought
With stronger liquer wrought
But in my breast if free rage boile,
That to the winds it may assoil
My sighs ingrate
Which my sore wound can't bate
That to the winds it may assoil
My sighs ingrate
Which my sore wound can't bate
When my modestness cast by
Shall give over presently
To strive so long
VVith rivals over strong.
Shall give over presently
To strive so long
VVith rivals over strong.
When (vext) I to you had enlarg'd
These things, to hie me home being charg'd
Along I went
VVith fearfull impotent,
These things, to hie me home being charg'd
Along I went
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To those posts (ah) unkind to me,
And dores (ah) full of cruelty,
Where mightily
My loyns and sides bruisd I:
And dores (ah) full of cruelty,
Where mightily
My loyns and sides bruisd I:
Lyciseus love me now doth press,
Boasting that he in tenderness
Dos far surpass
Any young married lass.
Boasting that he in tenderness
Dos far surpass
Any young married lass.
VVhence nor the free-spent consultations,
Nor the rigid increpations
Of my friends ere
Me off again shall tear:
Nor the rigid increpations
Of my friends ere
Me off again shall tear:
But some other flame, in sooth,
Of some fair maid or some plucy youth,
Knitting up fair
His long grown head of haire:
Of some fair maid or some plucy youth,
Knitting up fair
His long grown head of haire:
Wit A Sporting In a pleasant Grove Of New Fancies | ||