<!DOCTYPE ETS PUBLIC "-//UMDLPS//DTD EEBOPROOF 2.0//EN">
<ETS>
<TEMPHEAD>
<REVDESCR>
<CHANGE>
<DATE>2008-09-02</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>tcpstaff</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
</RESPSTMT>
<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed as part of batch B080840.pdcc.</ITEM>
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<EEBO>
<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="B04032">
<STC T="W">L2034</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99887759</BIBNO>
<VID>183422</VID>
</IDG>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="ballad">
<PB N="270" REF="1" MS="y"><!-- PDF PAGE 12 -->
<HEAD>The Life of LOVE</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<L><HI>Let he or &s;he, from Chains are free,</HI></L>
<L><HI>prize high their Liberty.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Loves a Di&s;ea&s;e, that &s;eems to plea&s;e</HI></L>
<L><HI>yet breeds Captivity.</HI></L>
</ARGUMENT>
<OPENER><HI>To the Tune of,</HI> The Fair one let me In: <HI>Or,</HI> Bu&s;ie Fame.</OPENER>
<P>This may be Printed, <HI>R. P.</HI></P>
<P><FIGURE>
</FIGURE></P>
<P><FIGURE>
</FIGURE></P>
<LG>
<L><HI>ALL</HI> you that do in Love delight,</L>
<L>now mind what I relate;</L>
<L>And give your judgement now aright,</L>
<L>of this my cruel Fate:</L>
<L>I loved one mo&s;t tenderly,</L>
<L>that lov'd not me again:</L>
<L>Though I for him could freely dye,</L>
<L><HI>he pays me with d&s;idain.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>And yet upon him I mu&s;t dote,</L>
<L>O what a Fool am I:</L>
<L>Though yet I love him well I know't,</L>
<L>'tis meer Simplicity,</L>
<L>To mourn for him who laughs at me,</L>
<L>i'th mid&s;t of all my pain;</L>
<L>When he &s;hould be mo&s;t kind to me,</L>
<L><HI>He doth me mo&s;t di&s;dain.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Hard hay I had in this my Choice,</L>
<L>to meet one &s;o unkind;</L>
<L>VVhil&s;t others &s;weetly do rejoyce,</L>
<L>no Comfort I can find:</L>
<L>But &s;ighing wa&s;te my &s;elf away,</L>
<L>and linger in my Chain;</L>
<L>I pine for him both night and day,</L>
<L><HI>that doth me &s;till di&s;dain.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>This is Vnju&s;tice to the heighth,</L>
<L>that Rea&s;on contradicts;</L>
<L>Both night and day for him to &s;igh</L>
<L>that my poor heart afflicts:</L>
<L>Oh! I had rather chu&s;e to dye,</L>
<L>then in this &s;tate remain,</L>
<L>'Tis wor&s;e then Death a&s;&s;uredly,</L>
<L><HI>to meet with &s;uch di&s;dain.</HI></L>
</LG>
<P><FIGURE>
</FIGURE></P>
<LG>
<L>WEll &s;ince I mu&s;t this grief endure,</L>
<L>i'le now re&s;ign my breath;</L>
<L>For being pa&s;t all hopes of Cure,</L>
<L>I covet for my Drath:</L>
<L>For I &s;hall never quiet be,</L>
<L>while I do here remain;</L>
<L>Come Death and &s;trike immediately,</L>
<L><HI>then farewell his di&s;dain.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Then down her Cheeks the tears did run</L>
<L>and oft &s;he wi&s;h't in vain;</L>
<L>For that which could not well be won,</L>
<L>which much encrea&s;'d her pain,</L>
<L>Come Death, quoth &s;he, &amp; Pierce my heart,</L>
<L>let me no more complain;</L>
<L>I long to feel thy killing dart,</L>
<L><HI>&s;ince he doth me di&s;dain.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L><HI>The Young-Mans Loving An&s;wer.</HI></L>
<L>MY dear you're too much unkind</L>
<L>again&s;t me thus to &s;peak;</L>
<L>For thou &s;halt &s;ee I will prove kind,</L>
<L>thy heart it &s;hall not break:</L>
<L>For every tear that thou ha&s;t &s;pent,</L>
<L>I bottle up in &s;tore;</L>
<L>Believe me Love, 'tis my intent,</L>
<L><HI>that thou &s;hould'&s;t grieve no more.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>No no, forbear to mourn for me,</L>
<L>who loves thee tenderly</L>
<L>I will be faithful unto thee,</L>
<L>and con&s;tant till I dye:</L>
<L>Thou art an Angel unto me,</L>
<L>'tis thee I do adore;</L>
<L>In thee alone I do delight,</L>
<L><HI>then grieve for me no more.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>It pierc'd me through my tender heart,</L>
<L>to heart thee thus complain;</L>
<L>It is not in the power of Art,</L>
<L>to make me thee di&s;dain:</L>
<L>My Love is &s;potle&s;s I prote&s;t,</L>
<L>none e're lov'd &s;o before;</L>
<L>My dear, I do not &s;peak in je&s;t,</L>
<L><HI>then grieve for me no more.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Let this my Love a pattern be,</L>
<L>to all both young and old;</L>
<L>VVho &s;ay, they love unfeignedly.</L>
<L>but yet I dare be bold</L>
<L>To &s;ay, that many do deceive,</L>
<L>for &s;carce one in a Score,</L>
<L>That &s;ay they love you may believe,</L>
<L><HI>but mind &s;uch Blades no more.</HI></L>
</LG>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="colophon">
<P><HI>Printed for</HI> P. Brooksby, <HI>at the Golden-Ball in</HI> Pye Corner.</P>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
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