O my Thought! my Thoughts surcease!
Thy delights, my woes increase.
My life melts with too much thinking.
Think no more! but die in me,
Till thou shalt revivèd be;
At her lips my nectar drinking.
FINIS. Sir P[HILIP] S[IDNEY]. [Here end the Other Songs of variable verse in the first Quarto of 1591. The next Song first occurs in the Arcadia impression.] ELEVENTH SONG.
Who is it that this dark night, Underneath my window plaineth? It is one who from thy sight, Being, ah! exiled; disdaineth Every other vulgar light.
Why, alas! and are you he?
Be not yet those fancies changèd?
Dear! when you find change in me, Though from me you be estrangèd; Let my change to ruin be.
Well in absence this will die.
Leave to see! and leave to wonder!
Absence sure will help, if I
Can learn how myself to sunder
From what in my heart doth lie.
