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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Love's Imagination
Oh, Joy of Joys, my love, my Sweet,
And doe we meete?
Is't not a mist before myn Eyes
That flatters mee with Lies?
And pleasing Phansys of my Deer,
And you'r not heer?
Itt is not, cannot be, my fayre.
A body of Compounded Ayre?
Or body from the Grave did steale,
Thinkinge my wounds to heale?
A Vision onely to disceave mee,
To wound mee more when you do leave mee?
Oh, it doth speake; it speakes, I finde,
With Trembling Voyce and out of winde.
Oh, speake againe; your hand give mee,
To know whether that thou art thee.
Love's Palsy in myne; prethee, fold it;
It shakes so that I can not hold it.
Shure you are you; your hart so tremblinge;
Your love and myne is no dissemblinge.
Oh, doe not weepe, nor Sith, nor Groane;
Now I am with you, make no moane.
But wee'r not mett; so Joy'de, it Equalls Sorrow:
Wee'r foxt in love; let's sleepe and meet tomorrow.
| The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle | |