Away, delights! go seek some other dwelling
For I must die
Farewell, false love! thy tongue is ever telling
Lie after lie
For ever let me rest now from thy smarts;
Alas, for pity go
And fire their hearts
That have been hard to thee! Mine was not so
Never again deluding love shall know me
For I will die;
And all those griefs that think to overgrow me
Shall be as I:
For ever will I sleep, while poor maids cry --
'Alas, for pity stay
And let us die
With thee! Men cannot mock us in the clay.'