Experience which repentance only brings,
Doth bid me, now, my heart from Love estrange!
Love is disdained, when it doth look at kings;
And Love low placed, base and apt to change.
There, Power doth take from him his liberty!
Her Want of Worth makes him in cradle die!
O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness!
O how much do I love your solitariness!
You men that give false worship unto Love,
And seek that which you never shall obtain;
The endless work of Sisyphus you procure!
Whose end is this, to know you strive in vain.
Hope and Desire, which now your idols be!
You needs must lose, and feel Despair with me!
O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness!
O how much do I love your solitariness!
You woods! in you, the fairest Nymphs have walked!
Nymphs, at whose sights all hearts did yield to love.
You woods! in whom dear lovers oft have talked,
How do you now a place of mourning prove?
Wansted, my Mistress, saith, "This is the doom!
Thou art Love's childbed! nursery! and tomb!"
O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness!
O how much do I love your solitariness!
Fine knacks for ladies! cheap! choice! brave! and new!
Good pennyworths! but money cannot move!
I keep a fair, but for the Fair to view!
A beggar may be liberal of love.
Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true,
The heart is true,
The heart is true.
Great gifts are guiles, and look for gifts again,
My trifles come, as treasures from my mind!
It is a precious jewel to be plain!
Sometimes in shell, th' orientest pearls we find.
Of others, take a sheaf! of me, a grain!
Of me, a grain!
Of me, a grain!
Within this pack, pins! paints! laces! and gloves!
And divers toys fitting a country fair!
But my heart, where duty serves and loves,
Turtles and twins! Court's brood! a heavenly pair!
Happy the heart that thinks of no removes!
Of no removes!
Of no removes!
