The dying tears of a true Lover forsaken,  
Made on his Deathbed; the hour before his Death.  
The Tune is, Come live with me.  
 


Those gentle hearts that true love crave,  
Where true love can no harbour have,  
From shedding tears cannot refrain,  
But mourn with me that loved in vain  
Sore sick in love, sore sick in mind,  
Come gentle death my life unwind,  
For Cupid's shaft and golden Bow,  
Now seeks my joys to overthrow.   

Upon my Deathbed I have penned,  
The Story of my woeful end;  
Vain world behold I die, I die,  
Here murdered by love's cruelty:  
O Sarah Hill thou art the Wight,  
That turned my joy to sharp delight,  
Thou art the causer of my death,  
Farewell false love, farewel my breath.   

Be warned you wantoness by my fall,  
In love there is no truth at all;  
Although in love you live untrue,  
There is some Maids as false as you:  
Her beauty dazzled so mine eyes,  
That in her breast my heart still lies,  
I loved her, but she loved not me,  
Wherefore behold, I die, I die.   

O cursed eyes, why did you gaze,  
Upon her fair and flattering face?  
O wherefore did my eyes unfold,  
One framed of such unconstant mould:  
Come wrap me in my winding-sheet,  
And bear me sadly through the street,  
That from her eyes salt tears may shed,  
When for her sake she sees me dead.   

In outward show she joined hands,  
And vowed to live in wedlock bands,  
But she unkind hath me despised,  
And broke my heart so highly prized:  
O Lord what grief do I sustain;  
Which lived despised, and loved in vain,  
But Lord how well are they paid,  
Which hap to choose a constant Maid.   

There is no living wight that knows,  
The pineing pain and endless woes,  
That we forsaken Lovers hid,  
But such as have the torments tried:  
I needs must yield now death doth fade,  
Deaths coming cannot be denied:  
O reach the Bible, pray to me,  
For that my souls true love shall be.   

Go toll my Passing-bell, dear friends,  
For here a Lover's journey ends:  
But mark what fortune she shall have,  
When she hath closed me in the Grave,  
I do not doubt but you shall see,  
Her body paid in misery:  
And made a laughingstock to those,  
Who now her great unkindness knows.   

You of the Gentle-craft that be,  
Show this kind favour unto me,  
That to the world this mournful Song,  
Be chanted sweetly you among:  
And some of you I do request,  
To bear me to my longing rest,  
And lay my carcase in the ground,  
With ringing Bells melodious sound.   

To my dear love then go and say,  
Her change of mind cast me away,  
Bid her hard heart so constant prove,  
To him that next shall be her love:  
With that he yielded up his life,  
Where death gave end to further strife:  
Desiring God that sits in Heaven,  
His lover's sins might be forgiven.   

Thus have you heard Hugh Hills good mind  
Who never proved in love unkind:  
But to his end continued true,  
Not changing old friend for a new.   
FINIS   

The second part.  
to the same Tune.  

COme young Lasses and listen well,  
Unto the tale that I shall tell,  
For unto you I will unfold  
A matter worthy to be told:  
There was a young man loved me well,  
A Shoemaker his name Hugh Hill,  
His heart with love did burn amain,  
And I seemed to love him again.   

Then were we made sure together,  
But I unconstant as the weather,  
Did him forsake, I was so nice,  
When in the Church were asked thrice,  
When that he saw I was unkind,  
And that I had a cruel mind,  
For love of me he left his life,  
Because I would not be his wife.   

I never cared what he did say,  
But suffered him to pine away:  
And when he yielded up his breath,  
I quickly had forgot his death,  
But in my Bed upon a time,  
As many things came in my mind,  
There smiling to myself I said,  
I think that I shall die a maid.   

Then many a Youth I thought upon,  
I loved and fancied many a one:  
I hated some, and some reserved,  
To like and love as they deserved:  
But in the midst of all my choice,  
I heard a lamentable voice,  
With Music sounding to the ear,  
But not to me as did appear.   

For when I heard what it might be  
And what was cause of this Melody,  
And at my window a voice did cry,  
Hugh Hill is dead, fie Sarah fie,  
My conscience then tormented me,  
Of my false heart and treachery,  
And evermore the voice would cry,  
Go pine thyself repent and die,   

Methought it was the voice of Hugh,  
Of good Hugh Hill that was so true,  
That was so faithful unto me,  
Yet used him most wickedly:  
O there he did my faults express,  
And I the same must needs confess,  
For I killed him with cruelty,  
For which I would but cannot die   

And since that time my heart is light,  
And all my body altered quite,  
My eyes are sunk into my head,  
Which makes me look like one that's dead  
My face that was so fresh and fine,  
As clear as is the Claret wine,  
Is now transformed to another hue,  
Both grim and loathsome to the view.   

My skin is withered, my flesh is gone,  
And nothing left but skin and bone,  
And now I pine most dolefully,  
Wishing for death but cannot die,  
Therefore sweet Maids that suistors have  
Yield unto them that true love crave,  
O do not cast a man away,  
Lest you yourselves go to decay.   

If unto you a youngman come,  
You are so fine you'll ne'er have none,  
Until your beauty fade away,  
You scorn most men you are so coy:  
Fie, fie, remember what you are,  
Do not refuse while you are fair,  
Unto you true loves be not coy,  
'Tis good to take them while you may.   

As you be coy, so I have been,  
But see the misery I live in,  
That was it not for my souls health,  
I would be willing to kill myself:  
Therefore fair Maids amend in time,  
Lest that your woes belike to mine,  
And pray to God to end my grief,  
Or else to rid me of my life.     

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