University of Virginia Library



[XV. Cruell, Let my hart be blessed]

Cruell, Let my hart be blessed,
No life is sweet with a hart oppressed,
For though my greater griefe be flying,
My smile, is turn'd to sighing,
And when I would thy praise be singing,
I change my note and say,
alas my hart is sore with stinging,
Yet cruell loue for this woe if thou dost languish,
O then I dye, I dye with anguish.