Michael Drayton (1563–1631)

GOOD folk, for gold or hire,

But help me to a crier;

For my poor heart is run astray

After two eyes that passed this way.

O yes, O yes, O yes,

If there be any man

In town or country can

Bring me my heart again,

I’ll please him for his pain.

And by these marks I will you show

That only I this heart do owe:

It is a wounded heart,

Wherein yet sticks the dart;

Every piece sore hurt throughout it;

Faith and troth writ round about it.

It was a tame heart and a dear,

And never used to roam;

But, having got this haunt, I fear

’Twill hardly stay at home.

For God’s sake, walking by the way,

If you my heart do see,

Either impound it for a stray,

Or send it back to me.