Come again, sweet love doth now invite

Thy graces that refrain

To do me due delight

To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die

With thee again in sweetest sympathy.

 

Come again, that I may cease to mourn

Through thy unkind disdain:

For now left and forlorn

I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die

In deadly pain and endless misery.

 

Gentle Love, draw forth thy wounding dart

Thou canst not pierce her heart

For I that do approve

By sights, and tears, more hot than are thy shafts

Did tempt while she for mighty triumph laughs.

 

 

 

 

If my complaints could passions move

Or make love see wherein I suffer wrong:

My passions were enough to oprove

That my despairs had govern'd me too long.

 

O love, I live and die in thee

Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks:

Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me.

My heart for they unkindness breaks:

 

Yet thou dost hope when I despair,

And hen I hope, though mak'st me hope in vain.

Thou say'st thou canst my harms repair,

Yet for redness, though let'st me still complain.

 

Can love be rich and yet I want?

Is love my judge, and yet I am condemn'd?

Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant:

Thou made a god, and yet thy pow'r condenm'd.

 

That I do live, it is thy pow'r;

That I desire, it is thy worth:

If love doth make men's lives too sour,

Let me not love, nor live hence-forth.

 

die shall my hopes, but not my faith,

That you that of my fall may hearers be.

May here despair, which truly saith,

I was more true to love than love to me.

 

 

 

 

In darkness let me dwell

The ground, the ground

Shall sorrow, sorrow be.

 

The roof despair to bar all,

All cheerful light from me,

The wall of marble black

That moisten'd,

That moisten'd still shall

Weep, still shall weep.

 

My music, my music,

Hellish jarring sounds,

to banish friendly sleep.

 

Thus wedded to my woes,

And bedded to my tomb,

O let me living die.

'Till death do come,

In darkness let me dwell.