the news of thou skipping beat and chesty pain-
O’ how from thy voice I wished to’ave know.
Thy pain thou may feel, I will dearly hope to feel the same,
and I shall come by word or voice to comfort thee,
and thee to me, for thou art more than just a name.
Thou be all my eye wishes to fall upon and see,
and thy voice my ear wish to fall upon and hear;
O’ but how thine beauty has been greatly kept under golden lock and key.
Yet, though thyself not mine more than to any other peer,
I may condemn any other to say they care for you so,
as much as I, a liar and that they share none like of what I fear.
O’ how I fret the day of which we all know,
O’ how thine news of sickly troubles fret me so.
– John Boome