The Cruel Maid

And cruel maid, because I seeYou scornful of my love and me,

I'll trouble you no more; but goMy way where you shall never knowWhat is become of me: there IWill find me out a path to die,Or learn some way how to forgetYou and your name for ever: yet,Ere I go hence, know this from me,What will, in time, your fortune be:This to your coyness I will tell,And, having spoke it once, farewell.The lily will not long endure,Nor the snow continue pure;The rose, the violet, one day,See, both these lady-flowers decay:And you must fade as well as they.And it may chance that Love may turn,And, like to mine, make your heart burnAnd weep to see't; yet this thing do,That my last vow commends to you:When you shall see that I am dead,For pity let a tear be shed;And, with your mantle o'er me cast,Give my cold lips a kiss at last:If twice you kiss you need not fearThat I shall stir or live more here.Next, hollow out a tomb to coverMe—me, the most despisèd lover,And write thereon: This, reader, know:Love kill'd this man. No more, but so.