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.
Close
Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer
www.harald-lillmeyer.kulturserver.de