If to be lov’d it thee offend,
I cannot choose but love thee still:
And so thy greefe shall have no end,
Whiles that my life maintaines my will.
O let me yet with greefe complaine,
since each a torment I endure:
Or else fulfill thy great disdaine,
to end my life with death most sure.
For as no credite thou wilt lend,
and as my love offends thee still:
So shall thy sorrowes have no end,
whiles that my life maintaines my will.
If that by knowing thee, I could
leave off to love thee as I doo:
Not to offend thee, then I would
leave off to like and love thee too.
But since all love to thee dooth tend,
and I of force must love thee still:
Thy greefe shall never have an end,
whiles that my life maintaines my will.
(Bartholomew Young)
More Poetry from Bartholomew Young:
- The Sheepheard Arsileus Replie to Syrenus Song (Bartholomew Young Poems)
- Syernus Song to Eugerius (Bartholomew Young Poems)
- The Sheepheard Firmius His Song (Bartholomew Young Poems)
- The Sheepheard Carillo His Song (Bartholomew Young Poems)
- Cinthia the Nimph, Her Song To Faire Polydora (Bartholomew Young Poems)
- Arsileus His Caroll, For Joy of the New Mariage, Betweene Syrenus and Diana (Bartholomew Young Poems)