CUPIDS COURT of EQUITY.
The scornful Lady quickly took,
While she her love Disdain'd:
She was prick'd down in
Cupids Book,
His Vassal she remain'd.
Tune of,
When first I bid my Love Good-Morrow.
WHen first I bid my Love good morrow,
with tear in Eye, and hand on breast;
My heart was even drown'd in sorrow,
and I poor soul was much opprest.
The glances from her Eye so darted,
I her captive soon was made;
The Prisoner took was broken-hearted,
this I find is
Cupids Trade.
All my reason then was banish'd.
and I left in Captivity:
My hop'd for joys were quickly vanish'd,
by the Lightning of her Eye.
All my hopes at once were blasted,
by one seeming scornful look:
The joys I hop'd for to have tasted,
had no Record in
Cupids Book.
I sigh'd, I groun'd just like a Lover,
ready just for to depart;
And had no hopes for to recover.
for she, Oh she had broke my heart.
Away I went without her smiling,
which was worse then death to me:
And
Cupid was me then beguiling
of my Life and Liberty.
BUt when she see that I absented,
almost melted into Tears,
By Love sick case she then lamented,
and like my self was fill'd with fears.
Alas, quoth she, am I so cruel,
as to let this Lover dye?
Or to his flames to add such fuel,
as makes his heart to scorch and fry,
A Balsome then I will provide him,
shall effect a perfect cure;
And in my bosome I will hide him,
he shall not these pains indure.
My thinks I feel my self relenting,
and in tears I almost melt:
Now do I grieve at his tormenting,
I now feel the pains he felt.
None can indure this bitter anguish,
which at this time I do feel:
For want of him I grieve, I languish,
none but he my wounds can heal.
Let not your beauty make you peevish,
you that nature made so fair:
For mens as womens eyes are thievish,
love commands or breeds dispair.
At first too strangely I did slight him,
whom I now so much adore:
He is the Man I do delight in,
and now will do for evermore.
His sighs and groans shall be requited,
with a shoure of brackish tears:
And my senses are benighted,
fill'd with storms of dreads and fears.
Oh come again before my soreow
brings me to the brink of Death,
I cannot hope to see to morrow,
except you come to save my breath.
Then come & take thy conquest quickly
I am ready to depart:
Just at this moment I am sickly,
thou hast won my tender heart.
FINIS.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-ball, near the Hospital-Gate, in West-smith-field.