The Lovesick Maid: Or, Cordelias' lamentation for the absence of her Gerhard.  
To a pleasant New Tune.  
 
 
BE gone  
Thou fatal fiery favour, now be gone,  
let Love alone,  
Let his Etherial flames possess my breast,  
His fires,  
From thy consuming heat no aid requires,  
for swift desires,  
Transports my passion to a throne of rest;  
Where I,  
Who in the pride of health, did  
never feel such warmth to move;  
By sickness tamed am so inflamed,  
I know no joys but love.  
And he  
That trifled many tedious hours  
away, my love to try,  
In little space had gained the grace,  
to have more power than I.  
Depart  
Thou scorching fury, quick from me depart,  
think not my heart,  
To thy dull flame shall be a sacrifice;  
A Maid  
Dread Cupid now is on thy Altar laid,  
by thee betrayed,  
A Rich oblation to restore thine eyes:  
But yet  
My fair acknowledgement will  
prove thou hast no c●aft,  
To bend thy Bow against thy foe,  
that aimed to catch the shalt:  
For if  
That at my breast thy arrows  
thou all at once let his,  
She that receives a thousand sheaves,  
can do no more but due.  
No more  
you learned physicians, tyre your brains no more  
pray give me o'er,  
Mine is a cure, in Physic never read;  
Although  
You skilful Doctors all the world doth know,  
pray let me go.  
You may as well make practice on the Dead.  
But if  
My Gerrard deign to view me  
with the glory of his looks,  
I make no doubt to live without  
Physicians and their books.  
'Tis he  
That with his balmed Kisses  
can restore my latest breath;  
That bliss is this, to gain a Kiss  
can save a maid from death?  
To you  
That tell me of another world, I bow,  
and will allow  
Your Sacred Precepts, if you'll grant me this,  
That he  
Whom I esteem of next the Deity,  
may go with me,  
Without whose presence there can be no bliss,  
Go teach  
Your tenets of eternity;  
to those that aged be,  
And not persuade a lovesick maid  
there's any heaven but he.  
But stay  
Methinks an icy slumber  
hath possessed my frency brain;  
Pray did him die if you see I  

The Young- Man's Answer: Or, his Dying Breath, Lamenting for his fair Cordelias' Death.  
To a Delightful New Tune.  
 

Come on  
thou fatal messenger from her that's gone  
left I alone  
Within that quenchless flame for ever fry;  
The Lake  
Of love being kindled, wherein none can take  
rest, but wake,  
Where slumber hath no power to close the eye;  
Whilst I  
That by my fair Cordelia  
desire to take a sleep,  
With lids wide spread upon my bed  
am forced a watch to keep:  
And she  
That waited many tedious hours,  
my constancy to try,  
Is now at rest, while I oppressed,  
fain would but cannot die.  
Dispatch  
Thou scorching fury, quickly now dispatch,  
by Death I watch.  
To be released from this tormenting flame;  
The Dart  
Sent from dread Cupid, sticks fast in my heart,  
I wanting art,  
Had not the power for to resist the fame  
Though she  
Who by her late acknowledgement,  
professed thou hadst no craft,  
Yet from thy bow thou mad'st her know  
what power lay in the shaft:  
Yut than  
Thou sentest another arrow  
which me of hopes be rest,  
Most like a so to wound me so,  
for whom no cure 〈…〉  
Wherefore  
Did you Physicians give my mistress o'er  
had you no more  
Experience, but what you in books have read;  
Or why  
(You learned Doctors) did you cease to try  
your skills, when I  
Might have revived her if she'd not been dead?  
And yet  
Suppose that I in Person  
had present been to view her;  
Is there such grace in any face  
to work so great a cure?  
But now  
I'm come too late to kiss her,  
which were it not in vain,  
After her death I'd spend my breath  
to fetch her back again.  
Unto  
The fair Elysium thither will I go,  
whereas I know  
She is amonghst those sacred ones preferred,  
Then I  
Shall be admitted for to come so nigh,  
pardon I'll cry  
For my long absence, wherein I have erred:  
And since  
By her I was esteemed  
so much on earth being here,  
Hence for her sake no rest I'll take,  
till I have found her there.  
No more,  
But only I desire  
to hear my passing bell;  
That Virgins may lament the day