Shall I strive with wordes to move
When deedes receive not due regard
Shall I speake and neyther please
Nor be freely heard
Griefe alas though all in vaine
Her restlesse anguish must reveale
Shee alone my wound shall know
Though shee will not heale
All woes have end though a while delaid
Our patience proving
Oh
That time's strange effects
Could but make make her for loving
Stormes calme at last and why may not
She leave off her frowning
Oh sweet love
Help her hands
My affection crowning
I wood her I loved her
And none but her admire
O come deare joy and answere my desire
I wood her I loved her
And none but her admire
O come deare joy and answere my desire
