Loue those beames that breede, all day long, breed and feed, this burning : Loue I quench with flouds, flouds of teares, nightly teares, and mourning. But alas, teares coole this fire in vaine, The more I quench, the more there doth remaine. Ile goe to the woods, and alone, make my moane, oh cruell : For I am deceiu'd and bereau'd of my life, my iewell. O but in the woods, though Loue be blinde, Hee hath his spies, my secret haunts to finde. Loue then I must yeeld to thy might, might and spight oppressed, Since I see my wrongs, woe is me, cannot be redressed. Come at last, be friendly Loue to me, And let me not endure this miserie.