The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle addressed to Margaret Lucas and her Letters in reply: Edited by Douglas Grant |
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 | The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle |  |
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The Gentle Soule
My gentle Soule breath'd in thine Eare,
Love's Mase, with winding heer and there,
Will beat a Parly on your Drumme
Softly to tell you I am come
To Chainge Harts' Pris'ners. Myne hath longe
Suffer'd Extreams, and had much wronge
Love's Mase, with winding heer and there,
Will beat a Parly on your Drumme
Softly to tell you I am come
To Chainge Harts' Pris'ners. Myne hath longe
Suffer'd Extreams, and had much wronge
From you, that is a dunjon deepe;
With sadd thoughts fetter'd, could not sleepe;
Siths Manackl'd a lover's breath;
Fill'd with dispayre, that's worse then death;
Greefe my Companion; this I beare
Can not bee Eased with a Teare.
With sadd thoughts fetter'd, could not sleepe;
Siths Manackl'd a lover's breath;
Fill'd with dispayre, that's worse then death;
Greefe my Companion; this I beare
Can not bee Eased with a Teare.
Famisht, oh, Famisht shall I die?
I onely feed of your Each Eye;
And when my thirst did still renue,
Quensht it with thoughts of your lips' dewe.
Pray you, releeve mee; sett mee free,
And then your Prisner more I'l bee.
I onely feed of your Each Eye;
And when my thirst did still renue,
Quensht it with thoughts of your lips' dewe.
Pray you, releeve mee; sett mee free,
And then your Prisner more I'l bee.
| The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle | |