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Text
Mad Song: I burn, I burn
English source:
Anon.
I Burn, I burn, I burn, I burn, I burn,
I burn, I burn, I burn, I burn, I burn,
My Brain consumes to Ashes,
Each Eye-ball too like Lightning flashes,
Like Lightning flashes ;
Within my Breast there glows a solid Fire,
Which in a thousand, thousand Ages can't expire.
Blow, blow, blow,
Blow the Winds, great Ruler blow,
Bring the Po and the Ganges hither,
Tis sultry, sultry, sultry Weather \
Pour 'em all on my Soul, it will hiss,
It will hiss like a Coal,
But never, never be the cooler.
'Twas pride, hot as Hell, that first made me rebel,
From Love's awful Throne a curst Angel I fell ;
And mourn now the Fate,
Which my self did create,
Fool, Fool, that consider'd not when I was well ;
And mourn now the Fate,
Which my self did create,
Fool, Fool, that consider'd not when I was well.
Adieu, adieu transporting Joys,
Adieu, adieu transporting Joys ;
Off, off, off, ye vain fantastick Toys,
Off, off ye vain fantastick Toys,
That drep'd this Face and Body to allure,
Bring, bring me Daggers,
Poyson, Fire, Fire, Daggers, Poyson, Fire,
For Scorn is turn'd into Desire ;
All Hell, all Hell feels not the Rage,
Which I, poor I, which I, poor I endure.
I burn, I burn, I burn, I burn, I burn,
My Brain consumes to Ashes,
Each Eye-ball too like Lightning flashes,
Like Lightning flashes ;
Within my Breast there glows a solid Fire,
Which in a thousand, thousand Ages can't expire.
Blow, blow, blow,
Blow the Winds, great Ruler blow,
Bring the Po and the Ganges hither,
Tis sultry, sultry, sultry Weather \
Pour 'em all on my Soul, it will hiss,
It will hiss like a Coal,
But never, never be the cooler.
'Twas pride, hot as Hell, that first made me rebel,
From Love's awful Throne a curst Angel I fell ;
And mourn now the Fate,
Which my self did create,
Fool, Fool, that consider'd not when I was well ;
And mourn now the Fate,
Which my self did create,
Fool, Fool, that consider'd not when I was well.
Adieu, adieu transporting Joys,
Adieu, adieu transporting Joys ;
Off, off, off, ye vain fantastick Toys,
Off, off ye vain fantastick Toys,
That drep'd this Face and Body to allure,
Bring, bring me Daggers,
Poyson, Fire, Fire, Daggers, Poyson, Fire,
For Scorn is turn'd into Desire ;
All Hell, all Hell feels not the Rage,
Which I, poor I, which I, poor I endure.