Nor seek means to provide
To dark the sunny days.
Forget those wonted ways;

Leave off such frowning cheer,
There will be found no stays
To stop a thing so clear.

THE LOVER PRAYETH NOT TO BE

DISDAINED, REFUSED, MISTRUSTED, NOR FORSAKEN. 1 DISDAIN me not without desert;

Nor leave me not so suddenly;
Since well ye wot that in my heart
I mean ye not but honestly.

Refuse me not without cause why;
Nor think me not to be unjust;
Since that by lot of fantasy,

This careful knot needs knit I must.

3 Mistrust me not, though some there be,

That fain would spot my steadfastness: Believe them not, since that ye see, The proof is not as they express.

4 Forsake me not, till I deserve; Nor hate me not, till I offend; Destroy me not till that I swerve:

1

But since ye know what I intend.

5 Disdain me not, that am your own; Refuse me not, that am so true; Mistrust me not, till all be known; Forsake me not now for no new. 16 But:' perhaps for bot, unless.

THE LOVER LAMENTETH HIS ESTATE
WITH SUIT FOR GRACE.

1 FOR want of will in woe I plain,
Under colour of soberness;
Renewing with my suit my pain,
My wanhope with you steadfastness.
Awake therefore of gentleness;
Regard, at length, I you require,
My swelting pains of

my desire.

2 Betimes who giveth willingly, Redoubled thanks aye doth deserve;

And I that sue unfeignedly,

In fruitless hope, alas! do sterve. 2
How great my cause is for to swerve,
And yet how steadfast is my suit,
Lo, here ye see: where is the fruit?

3 As hound that hath his keeper lost,
Seek I your presence to obtain;
In which my heart delighteth most,
And shall delight though I be slain.
You may release my band of pain;
Loose then the care that makes me cry
For want of help, or else I die.

4 I die, though not incontinent; 3
By process, yet consumingly,

As waste of fire which doth relent:

If

you as wilful will deny. Wherefore cease of such cruelty, And take me wholly in your grace;

Which lacketh will to change his place.

26

1' Wanhope:' despair.- Sterve:' perish, die.- Incontinent:' immmediately.

THE LOVER WAILETH HIS CHANGED JOYS.

1 Ir ever man might him avaunt

Of Fortune's friendly chere,
It was myself, I must it grant,
For I have bought it dear:
And dearly have I held also
The glory of her name,
In yielding her such tribute, lo,
As did set forth her fame.

2 Sometime I stood so in her grace,
That, as I would require,

Each joy I thought did me embrace,
That furthered my desire:
And all those pleasures, lo, had I,
That fancy might support;
And nothing she did me deny
That was unto my comfort.

3 I had, what would you more, perdie?
Each grace that I did crave;
Thus Fortune's will was unto me
All thing that I would have:
But all too rathe,' alas the while,
She built on such a ground:
In little space, too great a guile
In her now have I found.

4 For she hath turned so her wheel,
That I, unhappy man,

May wail the time that I did feel

Wherewith she fed me than:

'Rathe:' soon.

For broken now are her behests,
And pleasant looks she gave,
And therefore now all my requests
From peril cannot save.

5 Yet would I well it might appear
To her my chief regard;

Though my deserts have been too dear

To merit such reward:

Since Fortune's will is now so bent
To plague me thus, poor man,
I must myself therewith content,
And bear it as I can.

TO HIS LOVE THAT HATH GIVEN HIM ANSWER OF REFUSAL.

1 THE answer that ye made to me, my dear, When I did sue for my poor heart's redress, Hath so appall'd my countenance and my chere, That in this case I am all comfortless,

Since I of blame no cause can well express.

2 I have no wrong, where I can claim no right, Nought ta'en me fro, where I have nothing had, Yet of my woe I cannot so be quite;

Namely, since that another may be glad
With that, that thus in sorrow makes me sad.

3 Yet none can claim, I say, by former grant,
That knoweth not of any grant at all;
And by desert, I dare well make avaunt
Of faithful will; there is nowhere that shall
Bear you more truth, more ready at your call.

4 Now good then, call again that bitter word, That touch'd your friend so near with friend so near with pangs of pain; And say, my dear, that it was said in bord: Late, or too soon, let it not rule the gain, Wherewith free will doth true desert retain.

THE LOVER DESCRIBETH HIS BEING
TAKEN WITH SIGHT OF HIS LOVE.

1 UNWARILY So was never no man caught,
With steadfast look upon a goodly face,
As I of late: for suddenly, methought,
My heart was torn out of his place.

2 Through mine eye the stroke from hers did slide,
And down directly to my heart it ran;
In help whereof the blood thereto did glide,
And left my face both pale and wan.

3 Then was I like a man for woe amazed,

Or like the fowl that fleeth into the fire; For while that I upon her beauty gazed, The more I burn'd in my desire.

4 Anon the blood start in my face again,

Inflam'd with heat, that it had at my heart, And brought therewith, throughout in every vein, A quaking heat with pleasant smart.

5 Then was I like the straw, when that the flame
Is driven therein by force and rage of wind;

I cannot tell, alas! what I shall blame,
Nor what to seek, nor what to find.