Loves Expiration

By custom who so bold as he
That cannot see?
Yet I by sad experience find,
My love's most modest when mine eles are blind:
Why should my coward tongue else fear to tel
My she Physician I'm not wel,
Whose only art
Can cure the passion of the heart?

Why dost thou show such crueltie
(Young Boy) on me?
Wast not enough to wound my heart?
Then to add blindness to my former smart,
But make me speechless that I cann't complain?
Thus hopeless to be wel again?
What punishment
Is grief that cannot find a vent?

Ah Cupid! if thou wilt that I
For her must die
Let me but tel her first 'twas she,
She only that did cause my maladie.
Assist my tongue with so much courage, I
May tel her 'tis for her I die!
Perhaps my grief
May thus discharg'd, find some relief.