The Discontented Lover.  
To a pleasant new Court Tune.  
 
 

Toll, toll, gentle bell for a soul,  
Killing care doth control,  
And my mind is sore oppressed:  
But I fear I shall die  
For a glance of that eye,  
Which so late'y did fly  
Like a Comet from the sky,  
Or like some great deity:  
But my wishes are in vain,  
I shall never see't again.   

When I in the Temple did spy  
This divine purity,  
On her knees to her Saint;  
She seemed so divine,  
All her graces did shine  
Far more fairer than the shrine:  
Faith I wished she had been mine,  
And my heart full resign,  
May powerfully prove  
No Religion like love.   

Fair, fair, and as chaste as the air.  
Holy Nuns breath in prayer,  
Was this votress divine:  
From each eye dropped a tear,  
Like the pearled violets were,  
When the spring doth appear  
To usher in the year;  
But I dare safely swear,  
That those tears trickle down  
For no sins of her own.   

But now increaseth my woe,  
I by no means can know  
Where this beauty doth dwell:  
All her rites being done  
To her Lady and her son,  
I was left all alone,  
And my Saint was from me gone,  
And to Heaven she is flown,  
Which makes me to say  
I can scarce live a day.   

Now I must make haste and die,  
And ascend to the sky  
Where my hopes are enthroned:  
You Ladies all adieu,  
Be your love's false or true.  
I am going to view  
One that far excels all you,  
One whom I never knew;  
But must breathe out my breath  
For acquaintance in death.   

The second part;  
To the same tune.  
 

RIng, ring, merry bells, while we sing,  
Drinking healths to our King,  
And our minds all advanced;  
Let us never fear to die,  
Till we drink out each eye,  
Let cash and cans fly  
Like hailstones from the sky,  
Bacchus' great Deity:  
But my wishes are but vain,  
Fill the cans round again.   

When I in the tavern did spy  
Such fair boon company  
On our knees drinking healths,  
We look so divine,  
When our noses did shine  
Well burnished with rich Wine,  
Faith I wished the cup were mine:  
Unto thee I resign,  
And may powerfully prove  
In drinking thy love.   

Free, free, as the air let us be,  
Esteeming no degree,  
But to all breaths alike,  
From one eye dropped a tear,  
Lest you Maudlin appear,  
And next morning do fear  
To be physick'd with small beer;  
But I dare safely swear  
If a tear trickles down.  
'Tis for love to the crown.   

But now increaseth my woe,  
I by all means must know  
What is due for our Sack;  
But the reckoning being paid  
To the hosts or maid,  
We need not be afraid  
To be scurvily betrayed  
To the constable's aid:  
Let us honestly pay  
Else we scarce get away.   

Now must I make haste and see  
What will us all free  
All our hands from the bar;  
You Ladies all adieu,  
Be your reckoning false or true,  
I am going for to view  
What belongeth to all you,  
Though we pay more than our due,  
Yet my purse I will spend,  
And my life for my friend.     

Imprinted at London for Richard Harper, 1650.