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40. [A Song]
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40. [A Song]

[O that my tongue had been as dumbe]

O that my tongue had been as dumbe
As now I finde
My eyes were blinde
When they did make my heart become
A vottary vnto a Saint
That hath noe eares to my complaint.
Had I but made my eyes my tongue,
My very lookes
Had serv'd for bookes
Wherein she might have read her wrong,
But now my words as charmes she feares
And serpent like doth shutt her eares.
Yet who would not have cry'd for ayd,
Burnt to the quick?
A senseless stick
To Vulcans tyrranny betrai'd
Will wast itself in moyst expence,
And keepe a noyse as if't had sense.
Speake then must I though to noe end,
For love doth say
That silence may
Much more then freindly speech offend,
Love once profess'd and then forborne
Turns deafe neglect to spightfull scorne.