Love's Unspeakable Passion: Or, The Youngman's Answer to Tenderhearts of London City  

Beauty over Love doth triumph,  
causing Lovers to complain;  
But 'tis pity, one so pretty,  
should be filled with disdain;   
To a pleasant New Playhouse Tune. Or, Tender hearts, etc.  
 
 

HOw can I conceal my passion,  
when I am used in this fashion,  
by that little blinking by,  
Who doth ver me and perpler me,  
and my comforts doth destroy.   

Oh forbear me cruel Cupid,  
Thou hast made me dull and stupid;  
and my senses are quite lost:  
ne'er was no man, by a woman,   

I am with her beauty wounded,  
In my thoughts I am confounded,  
would I had ne'er seen her face;  
For with desire, I burn like fire,  
and she ne'er pities this my case.   

Come and seize me death, and ease me,  
Nothing else but she can please me,  
my soul I cannot call my own;  
She hath won me and undone me,  
night and day I 〈◊〉 and groan   
 
 

For to leave her I endeavour,  
Then I fall into a fever;  
burning with a quenchless fire;  
But her beauty says 'tis duty,  
for to languish in desire.   

Then I fly into a passion,  
And tore my hair in my vexation,  
I curse the day when first I see her;  
Then my speech falters, my mind altars,  
and strait I try she is my dear.   

'tis not common for a woman,  
For to boast she will undo man,  
yet I find she often doth;  
Oh 'tis pity one so witty,  
shows no favour, knows no truth.   

You that are in spoil delighted,  
Boasting that your lover's slighted,  
think not always thus to reign;  
When age o'ertakes ye, love forsakes ye,  
you'll be paid for your disdain,   

Oh consider whilst you flourish,  
That your Lover you should nourish,  
not require him with disdain;  
For if you frown, you cast him down,  
and turns his pleasure into pain.   

And his trouble soon grows double,  
Oh 'tis better to be noble,  
send me then a gentle smile,  
That may ease me, not displease me,  
but my sorrows all beguile.   

Then will I in heart adore thee,  
Like an image stand before thee,  
fearing to displease thine eye;  
Then come and cherish, or I perish,  
like a fainting Lover die.   

Spare my life dear, I entreat thee,  
With sweet language I will greet the●  
for to ease my mortal pain;  
Then for ever, I'll endeavour  
to forget thy gross disdain.   
FINIS   

Printed for J. Deacon, at the sign of th● Angel, in Guil-spur-street.