The dying Lover complaineth that his Mistress regardeth not his Sufferings

LIKE as the swan towards her death

Doth strain her voice with doleful note;

Right so sing I with waste of breath,

I die! I die! and you regard it not.

I shall enforce my fainting breath,

That all that hears this deadly note,

Shall know that you dost cause my death,

I die! I die! and you regard it not.

Your unkindness hath sworn my death,

And changed hath my pleasant note

To painful sighs that stop my breath.

I die! I die! and you regard it not.

Consumeth my life, faileth my breath,

Your fault is forger of this note;

Melting in tears a cruel death.

I die! I die! and you regard it not.

My faith with me after my death

Buried shall be, and to this note

I do bequeath my weary breath

To cry, I die! and you regard it not.