Sweetest love, I do not go
For  weariness of thee
Nor  in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me;
But since that I
At  the last must part, 'tis best
Thus  to use myself in jest
By feigned deaths to die

When  thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not wind
But sigh'st my soul away;
When thou weep'st, unkindly kind
My life's blood doth decay
It  cannot be
That thou lovest me as thou say'st
If in thine my life thou waste
That art the best of me