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Mary Wroth's Poetry: An Electronic Edition

Wroth Poem - F14 - All night I weepe, all day I cry, Ay mee

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.Song 2.

All night I weepe, all day I cry, Ay mee;
I still doe wish though yett deny, Ay mee;
I ſigh, I mourne, and ſay that still
I only ame the store for ill, Ay mee;

In coldest hopes I freeze, yett burne Ay mee;
From flames I striue to fly, yett turne Ay me;
From griefe I haste butt ſorrowes hy,
and on my hart all woes doe ly Ay mee;

From contraries I ſeeke to runn Ay mee;
butt contraries I can nott shunn Ay mee;
For they delight theyr force to try,
and to despaire my thoughts doe ty Ay mee;

Whether (alaſs) then shall I goe Ay mee;
when as dispaire all hopes outgoe Ay mee;
Iff to the Forest, Cupid hyes,
and my poore ſoule to his lawe ties Ay mee;

To the 'Court'. O no. Hee crys fy Ay mee;
ther no true loue you shall espy Ay mee;
Leaue that place to faulſcest louers
yor true loue all truth diſcouers Ay mee;

Then quiett rest, and noe more proue Ay mee;
All places ar alike to loue Ay mee;
And constant bee in this beegunn
Yett ſay, till lyfe wt loue be dunn Ay mee;
Song 2.

All night I weep, all day I cry, Ay me;
    I still doe wish though yet deny, Ay me;
    I sigh, I mourn, and* say that still
    I only am the store for ill, Ay me;

In coldest hopes I freeze, yet burn, Ay me;
    From flames I strive to fly, yet turn, Ay me;
    From grief I haste but sorrows hie,
    And on my heart all woes do lie, Ay me;

From contraries I seek to run, Ay me;
    But contraries I cannot shun, Ay me;
    For they delight their force to try,
    And to despair my thoughts do tie, Ay me;

Whither (alas) then shall I go, Ay me;
    When as despair all hopes outgo, Ay me;
    If to the Forest, Cupid hies,
    And my poor soul to his law ties, Ay me;

To the Court? O no. He cries fie, Ay me;
    there no true love you shall espy, Ay me;
    Leave that place to falsest lovers
    your true love all truth discovers, Ay me;

Then quiet rest, and no more prove, Ay me;
    All places are alike to love, Ay me;
    And constant be in this begun
    Yet say, till life with love be done, Ay me.


'and' = 'I' in P

This song is, as Roberts [P14] notes, the only example of Wroth's poetry to be reproduced (in a much shorter version) in print in the seventeenth century, in Wit's Recreations (1645).
Song. 2.

All Night I weepe, all Day I cry, Ay me,
I ſtill doe wiſh, though yet deny, ay me:
I ſigh, I mourne, I ſay that ſtill,
I only am the ſtore for ill, ay me.

In coldeſt hopes I freeze, yet burne, ay me,
From flames I ſtriue to flye, yet turne, ay me:
From griefe I haſt, but ſorrowes hye,
And on my heart all woes doe lye, ay me.

From contraries I ſeeke to run, ay me,
But contraries I cannot ſhun, ay me:
For they delight their force to trye,
And to Deſpaire my thoughts doe tye, ay me.

Whither alaſſe then ſhall I goe, ay me,
When as Deſpaire all hopes outgoe, ay me:
If to the Forreſt Cupid hies,
And my poore ſoule to his law tyes, ay me.

To the Court: O no, he cryes fye, ay me,
There no true loue you ſhall eſpye, ay me:
Leaue that place to falſeſt Louers,
Your true loue all truth diſcouers, ay me,

Then quiet reſt, and no more proue, ay me,
All places are alike to Loue, ay me:
And conſtant be in this begun,
Yet ſay, till Life with Loue be done, Ay me.
Song 2.

All night I weep, all day I cry, Ay me;
    I still doe wish though yet deny, Ay me;
    I sigh, I mourn, I say that still
    I only am the store for ill, Ay me;

In coldest hopes I freeze, yet burn, Ay me;
    From flames I strive to fly, yet turn, Ay me;
    From grief I haste but sorrows hie,
    And on my heart all woes do lie, Ay me;

From contraries I seek to run, Ay me;
    But contraries I cannot shun, Ay me;
    For they delight their force to try,
    And to despair my thoughts do tie, Ay me;

Whither (alas) then shall I go, Ay me;
    When as despair all hopes outgo, Ay me;
    If to the Forest, Cupid hies,
    And my poor soul to his law ties, Ay me;

To the Court? O no. He cries fie, Ay me;
    There no true love you shall espy, Ay me;
    Leave that place to falsest lovers
    Your true love all truth discovers, Ay me;

Then quiet rest, and no more prove, Ay me;
    All places are alike to love, Ay me;
    And constant be in this begun
    Yet say, till life with love be done, Ay me.



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