1 Whither runneth my sweet hart, Stay a while pree thee Not too fast Too much haste Maketh waste, But if thou wilt needes be gone, Take my loue with thee. Thy minde doth binde me to no vile condition, So doth thy truth preuent me of suspition. 2 Go thy ways then where thou please, So I by thee Daie and night I delight In thy sight, Neuer griefe on me did seaze When thou wast nie mee. My strength at length, that scorn'd thy faire commandings Hath not forgot the prise of rash withstandings. 3 Now my thoughs are free from strife, Sweete let me kisse thee, Now can I Willingly Wish to die, For I doe but loath my life, When I doe miss thee, Come proue my loue, my hart is not disguised, Loue showne and knowne ought not to be despised.