I Have Pursued Her, As Love Hath

I 'gin To Be Aweary Of The Sun, And Wish Th' Estate O' Th' World Were Now Undone.

Oh, That Way Madness Lies; Let Me Shun That.

Grace And Remembrance Be To You Both.

The Let-alone Lies Not In Your Good Will.

Thine Eyes I Love, And They As Pitying Me, Knowing Thy Heart Torment Me With Disdain, Have Put On Black, And Loving Mourners Be, Looking With Pretty Ruth Upon My Pain.