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A Musicall Dreame

Robert Iones



XIII. I know not what

       1 I know not what, yet that I feele is much,
           It came I know not when, it was not euer,
       Yet hurtes I know not how, yet is it such,
           As I am pleasd though it be cured neuer,
       It is a wound that wasteth still in woe,
           And yet I would not, that it were not so.

       2 Pleasde with a thought that endeth with a sigh,
           Sometimes I smile when teares stand in my eyes,
       Yet then and there such sweet contentment lieth,
           Both when and where my sweet sower torment lies,
       O out alas, I cannot long endure it,
           And yet alasse I care not when I cure it.

       3 But well away, me thinks I am not shee,
           That wonted was these fitsas foule to scorne.
       One and the same, euen so I seeme to be,
           As lost I liue, yet of my selfe forlorne,
       What may this be that thus my mind doth moue,
           Alasse I feare, God shield it be not loue.


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