1 Shall I come sweet Loue to thee, When the eu'ning beames are set ? Shall I not excluded be ? Will you finde no fained lett ? Let me not for pitty more, Tell the long houres at your dore. 2 Who can tell what theefe or foe, In the couert of the night, For his prey will worke my woe ; Or through wicked soule despight : So may I dye vnredrest, Ere my long loue be possest. 3 But to let such dangers passe, Which a louers thoughts disdaine : 'Tis enough in such a place To attend loues ioyes in vaine. Doe not mocke me in thy bed, While these cold nights freeze me dead.
Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer