University of Virginia Library

My lute awake

The louer complayneth the vnkindnes of his loue.

My lute awake performe the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste:
And end that I haue now begonne:
And when this song is song and past:
My lute be styll for I haue done.
As to be heard where eare is none:
As lead to graue in marble stone:
My song may pearse her hart as sone.
Should we then sigh? or singe, or mone?
No, no, my lute for I haue done.
The rockes do not so cruelly
Repulse the waues continually,
As she my sute and affection:
So that I am past remedy,
Wherby my lute and I haue done.
Proude of the spoile that thou hast gotte
Of simple hartes through loues shot:
By whom vnkinde thou hast them wonne,
Thinke not he hath his bow forgot,
Although my lute and I haue done.
Vengeaunce shall fall on thy disdaine
That makest but game on earnest payne.

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H4r

Thinke not alone vnder the sunne
Vnquit to cause thy louers plaine:
Although my lute and I haue done.
May chance thee lie witherd and olde,
In winter nightes that are so colde,
Playning in vaine vnto the mone:
Thy wishes then dare not be tolde.
Care then who list, for I haue done.
And then may chance thee to repent
The time that thou hast lost and spent
To cause thy louers sigh and swowne.
Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
And wish and want as I haue done.
Now cease my lute this is the last,
Labour that thou and I shall wast,
And ended is that we begonne.
Now is this song both song and past,
My lute be still for I haue done.