7
Good, gentle Cupid, take my part,
And pierce this false one to the heart,
That she may once but feel the woe
That I for her do undergo:
Oh make her feel this raging pain,
That for her love I do sustain;
She sure would then more gentle be,
And soon repent her cruelty.
'Tis o'er, &c.
I now must wander for her sake,
Since that she will no pity take;
Into the woods and shady grove,
And bid adieu to my false love;
Since she is false whom I adore,
I ne’er will trust a women more,
From all their charms I'll fly away,
And on my pipe will sweetly play.
’Tis o'er, &c.
There by myself I'll sing and say,
’Tis o'er the hills and far away,
That my poor heart is gone astray,
Which makes me grieve both night and day,
Farewel, farewel, thou cruel she,
I fear that I shall die for thee;
