Laura. The Toyes of a Traveller. Or. The Feast of Fancie - Part 2, 6
Ladie what time I seeke in mournefull note
To shew mine agonies and bloudie mone.
My voyce doth faile, and hoarse and harsh my throte,
And this doth come through you, through you alone.
For whilst I thinke by meanes of you in song
To mittigate some part of this my smart,
Insteede thereof you do me double wrong,
And with a glaunce you take away my hart:
So that I finde great hurt by this your theft,
Since where before but voyce, now hart's bereft.
To shew mine agonies and bloudie mone.
My voyce doth faile, and hoarse and harsh my throte,
And this doth come through you, through you alone.
For whilst I thinke by meanes of you in song
To mittigate some part of this my smart,
Insteede thereof you do me double wrong,
And with a glaunce you take away my hart:
So that I finde great hurt by this your theft,
Since where before but voyce, now hart's bereft.
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