The Dying Lovers Reprieve. OR, The Reward of True Love.  
With sighs and tears her love he doth desire,  
Since Cupid hath his senses set on fire;  
His torment and his pain to her he shows,  
With all his protestations and his vows:  
At last she yields to grant him some relief,  
And make him joyful after all his grief.  
Tune of, Digbies Farewell; Or, Give me the Lass, etc.  
With Allowance. Ro, L'Estrange.  
 
 

FAirest and dearest to thee I am bound,  
For love and affection thy servant to be,  
Your skill I desire to heal up my wound,  
There's none in the world that can cure it but thee:  
Then dearest be pleased to do your endeavour,  
And i'll be your servant to wait on you ever;  
And thus you compel me unto you to cry,  
Grant me thy affection, or else I shall die.   

The ground of my torment to thee i'll impart,  
'Twas Cupid with's Arrow that wounded my heart,  
Which pains me and grieves me that I cannot rest,  
brings tears from my eyes, & deep sighs from my breast,  
Which makes me go mourning to think on my grief,  
My heart lies a burning for want of relief;  
No hopes I have left to be eased of pain,  
Unless you requite me with true love again.   

Then dearest be pleased to hear my request,  
And ease a poor patient and set me at rest;  
For you're the Physician which can by your art,  
In this sad condition give ease to my heart:  
'Tis only your love that so much I desire,  
Since thy charming my senses doth fire:  
Then dearest release me out of all my pain,  
And strive to require me with true love again.   
 
 

LEt me be so happy your love to embrace,  
Or why did you show me your beautiful face?  
Why did you not cover your features so rare?  
Which caused my heart to be caught in a snare:  
Then might I have lived in peace and content,  
& never have known what loves torments had meant;  
But now you compel me unto you to cry,  
I prithee love tell me, shall I live or die?   

Your love then restore me, and grant what I crave,  
Or else to remove me from hence to the Grave;  
Except you release me, no joy I can find,  
Whereby it may ease me and settle my mind:  
For I am enthralled by your rolling eyes,  
And you are the object wherein the fault lies:  
Which makes me go monrning to think on my pain,  
My heart lies a burning for cruel disdain.   

Although for my love you do prove so unkind,  
I cannot retrain but must utter my mind;  
I have been your servant a long time in vain,  
My love it was fervent, and doth still remain;  
No hopes to remove it I find to my grief,  
Unless you in pity do grant me relief;  
Then do not deny me when as I do cry,  
O grant me your favour, or else I shall die,   

Therefore I beseech you to hear my complaint,  
And take some pity before I do faint:  
For I am cast down with one glance of your eye,  
And when you do frown, 'tis O than I could die.  
A smile from your beauty doth ravish my m●●●  
Because I am pleased when as you seem kind  
For then I do hope to find some relief,  
At the hand of my dear, who hath caused my 〈◊〉   

But when I consider you cast me aside,  
O then I do fear you will not be my Bride;  
But this I desire, and this I do crave,  
To have some requital for being your Slave  
And so presume for to venture my Dove,  
To seal with a kiss the Indenture of love:  
Then make me no longer in vain for to cry,  
But now tell me whether I shall live or die.   

Kind Sir then (she said) since your love it is tr●●  
I will heal your wound, and be kind unto you;  
For well I have minded your sorrow and pain,  
Which you have endured by my cruel disdain  
But your fancy to please, I grant what you cr●●●  
And your grief for to ease, my body you have;  
Then wipe off your tears and cast sorrows awa●  
For now I will please you by night and by day   

These words so revived his sorrowful mind,  
He was overjoyed for to see her so kind;  
He straightway embraced her, and gave her a ki●●  
To seal as a pledge of a true lover's bliss:  
And so from that instant united in love,  
With constant affection that ne'er shall remove:  
And now they live happy in joy and content,  
And for what is passed have no cause to repent,    

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke.