Song 7 - Sorrow

Sorrow, I yield, and grieve that I did miss:

Will not thy rage be satisfied with this?

As sad a Devil as thee,

Made me unhappy be.

Wilt thou not yet consent to leave, but still

Strive how to show thy cursed, devilish skill;

I mourn, and dying am; what would you more?

My soul attends to leave this wretched shore

Where harms do only flow

Which teach me but to know

The saddest hours of my life's unrest,

And tired minutes with grief's hand oppressed:

Yet all this will not pacify thy spite;

No, nothing can bring ease but my last night.

Then quickly let it be

While I unhappy see

That Time, so sparing to grant lovers bliss,

Will see for time lost, there shall no grief miss.

Nor let me ever cease from lasting grief,

But endless let it be without relief:

To win again of love,

The favour I did prove,

And with my end please him, since living I

Have him offended, yet unwillingly.