The Youngman's Wish, OR,  

Behold his mind fulfilled, whom Love had almost killed,  
With joy revived again, as here appeareth plain:  
The like to this, ('twixt Man and Wife)  
I never heard yet, in all my Life.   
To the tune of, I am in Love, and cannot tell with whom.  

 

What strange affections have my thoughts possessed,  
that nothing will nor can my mind content?  
Or why should love my inward parts molest,  
or time away in patience thus be spent?  
The cause I'll show, but oh my heart will break;  

I am in love, but know not how to speak.    

My Humours and my Fancies all are crossed,  
my mind so much disturbed I cannot sleep;  
By day my wits like tennis Balls are tossed,  
and every hour in doleful dumps most deep:  
I am cast down, all pleasures I forsake,  

The reason is, I love and cannot speak.    

Sometimes my Muse ascendeth up on high,  
and climbs Parnassus' hills for learning's lore;  
As soon again it in the deep doth lie,  
now high, then low; now rich, and straightway poor:  
Now laugh & smile, yet strait my heart will break;  

For still I love and know not how to speak.    

I wander up and down, and yet stand still;  
I walk abroad, and yet lie sick in bed:  
I live at liberty, and yet my will  
is into desolation captive led:  
My health I have, yet life doth me forsake,  

Though still I love, I know not how to speak.    

I feed, I feast, I far on dainty diet;  
I drink the freshest wine, yet still am dry:  
I take my rest, and yet can have no quiet;  
I stand in water, yet in flames I fry:  
I sulphur greatly, yet with cold I shake:  

I love in heart, and yet I dare not speak.    

I wear good clothes, and yet I naked go,  
with decent gesture seemly to behold;  
I am adorned from top unto the toe;  
And yet my shape is loathsome double fold:  
I have my wits, and yet I do mistake,  

'Tis all because I love, and cannot speak.    

I hear, I see, I smell, I taste, I touch,  
and yet am senseless grown in every thing;  
Great want I feel, yet have (me thinks) too much,  
each ounce of mirth, a pound of grief doth bring:  
I am enforced thus to the world to break  

My mind; but to my Love I cannot speak.    

I live in peace, yet hold an inward strife,  
Cupid that villain wounded so my heart;  
I single am, yet fain would have a Wife,  
to ease me of my dolour, grief and smart:  
But she with whom I gladly would partake,  

Makes me abashed, I know not how to speak.     

The second Part.  
To the same Tune.  
 

O That some Orator would be so kind,  
to plead my cause, and certify my love;  
My passions and disturbances of mind.  
to try if she will prove my Turtle Dove:  
What alms or answer she to me would make,  

For oh alas, I love, but cannot speak.    

But since no means or way I can invent,  
to bring her tidings of my hearts desire;  
My time in Wishes shall be wholly spent,  
and Phoenixlike I'll waste myself in fire:  
For while I live I'll sorrow for her sake,  

Because I want both Art and heart to speak.    

O that I were some curious King of Gold,  
to wear upon her finger for delight;  
That by some Merchant so I might be sold  
for her own use and service day and night:  
Or would I were a bondslave for her sake;  

That fear might force, or Love me cause to speak.    

Can I but crave to light her to her bed,  
it surely would revive my drooping heart;  
Or lay soft pillows underneath her head;  
till dalliance long had made us loath to part:  
So finding scope, my wished mind I'd break,  

By signs, to hear, or touch, if not to speak.    

But O my heart, my wishes are in vain,  
no hopes have I for this which here I crave;  
Nor know I any way her love to gain;  
O would the Fates had digged my timeless grave:  
Where I might rest securely in my Tomb,  

And not be found until the day of doom.    

His Love (at last) who from a window high  
had heard the griefs and sorrows he endured;  
Thus comforts him with words immediately,  
thy lovesick heart (said she) shall soon be cured:  
Thou shalt no longer cause have to complain;  

If thou lov'st me, I'll quit thy love again.    

Thou wishedst but my company a time;  
now here's my hands for ever and for ay,  
In weal or woe I will be wholly thine,  
my heart, my hand, my life shall thee obey:  
So, lastly; thus their loves were truly tried,  

He was her Bridegroom, she his lovely Bride.     
L. P.  
FINIS.   

Imprinted at London for john Wright, the younger, and are to be sold at his Shop at the upper end of the Old-Bayley.