PREFACE
Ohh Dearest lover loving canst be paine whenst thy loved doth thy love distain no pleasure she fromst thy songs no joy fromst she that of thee she doth read andst her love thee doth not attain But only her distaste at thee doth thee obtain for naught of thy verse doth she entertaine andst only thy lamentations be thy gain no pity she of thy woe for all she doth show be But distain for her beau who cant with wit thy tongue thy pen to breathe the words that doth move her soul or to cause to beat her hart for the goal thee seeks her love withholds for thee poor poet hath for she no art