Can she excuse my wrongs with Virue's cloak?
Shall I call her good when she proves unkind?
Are those clear fires which vanish to smoke?
Must I praise the leaves where no fruit I find?
No, no where shadows do for bodies stand.
Thou may'st be abused thy sight be dim.
Cold loves is like to words written on sand.
Or to bublles wich on the waters swim.
If she will yield, to that which reason is,
It is reaons's will that loveshould be just.
Dear make me happy stil by granting this,
Or cut off deleays if that I die must.
No where shadows for bodies stand.
May'st be abused sight be dim.
Cold loves like to words written on sand.
bubles wich on waters swim.
Better a thousand times to die,
Than to live tormented,
Beaer but remember it was I
Who for thy sake did die.
text a hudba: John Dowland (1562-1626)
