Shall I sue, shall I seek for grace?
Shall I pray shall I prove?
Shall I strive to a heav'nly joy
With an earthly love?

Shall I think that a bleeding heart
Or a wounded eye
Or a sigh can ascend the clouds
To attain so high?

Silly wretch, forsake these dreams
Of a vain desire
O bethink what high regard
Holy hopes do require

Favour is as fair as things are
Treasure is not bought
Favour is not won with words
Nor the wish of a thought

Justice gives each man his own
Though my love be just
Yet will not she pity my grief
Therefore die I must

Silly heart then yield to die
Perish in despair
Witness yet how fain I die
When I die for the fair