Come, Sorrow, come

Come, Sorrow, come; sit down and mourn with me;
Hang down thy head upon thy baleful breast
That God and man and all the world may see
Our heavy hearts do live in quiet rest
Enfold thine arms and wring thy wretched hands
To show the state where in poor Sorrow stands

Cry not outright, for that were children's guise
But let thy tears fall trickling down thy face;
And weep so long until thy blubber'd eyes
May see, may see the depth of thy disgrace
O shake thy head, but not a word but mum;
The heart once dead, the tongue is stroken dumb

And let our farе be dishes of despitе
To break our hearts and not our fasts withal;
Then let us sup with sorrow sops at night
And bitter sauce, all of a broken gall
Thus let us live till heav'ns may rue to see
The doleful doom ordain'd for thee and me