Giue me mine hart for no man liueth hartlesse,
And now depriu'd of hart I am but dead:
And since thou hast it in his tables read,
Whether he rest at ease in ioyes and smartlesse,
Whether beholding him thine eyes were dartlesse,
Or to what bondage his inthral-ment leades.
Returne deare hart and me to mine restore,
Ah let me thee possesse, returne to mee:
I finde no meanes deuoyde of skill and artlesse
Thether returne where thou triumph't before
Let me of him but repossessor bee
And when thou giues to me mine hart againe
Thy selfe thou doest bestow, for thou art shee
Whom I call hart, and of whom I complaine.