Disdaine me not, that am your owne,

Refuse me not, that am so true,
Mistrust me not till all be knowne,
Forsake me not now for no new.

THE LOUER LAMENTETH HIS ESTATE
WITH SUTE FOR GRACE.

FOR want of will in wo I plaine,
Under colour of sobernesse;
Renewing with my sute my paine,

My wan hope with your stedfastnesse.
Awake therefore of gentlenesse,
Regard at lenth, 1 you require,
My swelting paines of my desire.

Betimes who geveth wyllyngly,
Redoubled thanks aye doth deserue,
And I that sue unfeinedly,
In fruitlesse hope, alas! do sterue.
How great my cause is for to swerue,
And yet how stedfast is my sute,
Lo! here ye see: where is the frute?
As hounde that hath his keper lost,
Seke I your presence to obtaine;
In which my hart deliteth most,
And shall delight though I be slain.
You may release my band of paine;
Lose then the care that makes me crie
For want of helpe, or els I dye.

I dye, though not incontinent;
By processe yet consumingly;
As wast of fire, which doth relent:
If you as wilfull will deny.
Wherefore cease of such cruelty,
And take me wholy in your grace,
Which lacketh will to change his place.

THE LOVER WAILETH HIS CHANGED
IOYES.

If euery man might him auaut,

Of fortunes friendly chere,

It was my self I must it graunt,

For I haue bought it dere:

And derely haue I held also
The glory of her name,
In yielding her such tribute, lo,
As did set forth her fame.

Sometime I stoode so in her grace,
That as I would require,
Ech ioy I thought did me embrace
That furdered my desire;

And all these pleasures lo! had I,
That fansy might support;
And nothing she did me deny,
That was unto my comfort.

I had (what would you more perdie?)
Ech grace that I did craue.
Thus fortunes will was vnto me
All thing that I would haue:

But all to rathe, alas! the while,
She built on such a ground:
In little space, to greate a guile,
In her now haue I found..

377

SUCH is the course that natures kind hath wrought, That snakes haue time to cast away their stinges: Against chainde prisoners what nede defence be sought,

The fierce lyon will hurt no yelden thinges;
Why should such spight be nursed then by
thought?

Sith all these powers are prest under thy winges,
And eke thou seest, and reason thee hath taught,
What mischiefe malice many wayes it bringes:
Consider eke, that spite availeth naught.
Therefore this song thy fault to thee it singes:
Displease thee not, for saying thus my thought
Nor hate thou him from whom no hate forth springes,
For furies, that in hell be execrable,
For that they hate, are made most miserable.

THE LOUER

COMPLAINETH THAT,

THE enmy of life, decayer of al kinde,

That with his colde withers away the grene
This other night me in my bed did finde,
And offerd me to rid my fever clene,
And I did graunt so did dispaire me blinde:
He drew his bow with arrowes sharp and kene,
And strake the place where love had hit before,
And drave the first dart deper more and more.

THE LOUER REIOYCETH THE ING OF HIS LOUE.

ONCE, as methought, fortune me kist,
And bade me aske, what I thought best,
And I should haue it as me list,
Therwith to set my hart in rest.

I asked but my ladies hart,
To haue foreuermore myne owne;
Then at an end were all my smart;
Then should I nede no more to mone.
Yet for all that a stormy blast,
Had ouerturnde this goodly nay:
And fortune semed at the last,
That to her promise she said nay.

But like as one out of dispaire,
To sodeine hope reuiued 1;
Now fortune sheweth her selfe so faire,
That I content me wondersly.

My most desire my hand may reach, My wyll is alway at my hande, Me nede not long for to besech, Her that hath power me to commande. What earthly thing more can I crave, What would I wishe more at my will? Nothing on earth more would I haue, Save that I haue, to haue it still.

For fortune now have kept her promesse, In graunting me my most desire, Of my soueraigne I haue redresse, And I content me with my hire.

Now cease, my lute, this is the last Labour, that thou and I shall wast, And ended is that we begonne: Now is this song both song and past; My lute be still, for I have done

HOW BY A KISSE HE FOUND BOTH HIS
LIFE AND DETH.

NATURE, that gaue the bee so feate a grace,
To finde hony of so wondrous fashion,
Hath taught the spider out of the same place
To fetch poyson by straunge alteracion.
Though this be strange, it is a stranger case,
With one kisse by secret operacion

Both these at once in those your lips to finde,
In change wherof, I leaue my hart behinde.

KINDNES OF HIS LOVE.

My lute awake perform the last
Labour, that thou and I shall wast:
And end that I haue now begonne,
And when this song is song and past,
My lute be still for I haue done.

As to be heard where eare is none,
As leade to graue in marble stone;
My song may pearse her hart as sone.
Should we then sigh, or sing, or mone,
No, no, my lute, for I haue done.

The rockes do not so cruelly
Repulse the waues continually,
As she my sute and affection:
So that I am past remedy,
Wherby my lute and I haue done.

Proude of the spoile that thou hast gotte
Of simple harts through loues shot,
By whome vnkind thou hast them wonne:
Think not he hath his bow forgot;
Although my lute and I haue done.

Thorow mine eye the stroke from hers did slide, And downe directly to my heart it ranne, In help whereof the blood therto did glide, And left my face both pale and wanne.

Then was I like a man for wo amased, Or like the fowle that fleeth into the fire; For whyle that I vpon her beautie gased, The more I burnde in my desire.

Anon the bloud start in my face againe, Inflamde with heat, that it had at my hart, And brought therwith throughout in euery vaine, A quaking heat with pleasant smart.

Then was I like the strawe, when that the flame, Is driuen therin, by force and rage of wynde; I can not tell, a lass! what I shall blame,

Nor what to seke, nor what to finde.

But well I wot, the griefe doth hold ine sore In heate and cold, betwixt both hope and dreade That, but her help to health do me restore, This restlesse lyfe I may not leade.

PERDY I said it not,

Nor neuer thought to do:

As well as I ye wot,

I haue no power thereto.
And if I did, the lot,
That first did me enchaine,
May neuer slake the knot,
But straite it to my paine.
And if I did eche thing,
That maie do harme or wo,
Continually maie wring
My hart where so I go.
Report maie alwais ring
Of shame on me for aye,
If in my heart did spring
The words that you doe saye.
And if I did, eche starre
That is in heauen aboue,
May frowme on me to marre
The hope I haue in loue.
And if I did; such warre
As they brought vnto Troy,
Bring all my life as farre
From all his lust and ioy.

And if I did so say,
The beautie that me bounde;
Encrease from day to day
More cruel to my wounde
With all the mone that may,
To plaint may turne my song;
My life may soone decaye,
Without redresse by wrong.

If I be cleare from thought,
Why do you then complayne?
Then is this thing but sought
To turne my hart to paine.
Then this that you haue wrought,
You must it now redresse;
Of right therfore you ought
Such rigour to represse.

And as I haue deserued, So grant me now my hyre, You know I never swarued, You neuer found me lier. For Rachel haue I serued, For Leah carde I neuer, And her I haue reserued Within my hart for euer.

OF SUCH AS HAD FORSAKEN HIM. Lux my faire fawlcon, and thy fellowes all, How well pleasant it were your libertie,

Ye not forsake me, that fayre mought you fall, But they that sometime liked my company.

Like lice away from dead bodies they crall, Loe! what a proof in light adversitie,

But ye my birds I swere by all your belles, Ye be my frendes and very few elles.

A DESCRIPTION OF SUCH A ONE AS
HE WOULD LOUE..

A FACE that should content me wonderous well,
Should not be faire, but louely to behold,
Of liuely loke all griefe for to repell;
With right good grace so would I that it should
Speke without word, such wordes as none can tell,
Her tresse also should be of crisped golde;

With wit, and these perchaunce it might be tride,
And knit againe with knot that should not slide,

HOW VMPOSSIBLE IT IS TO FINDE 20 QUIET IN LOUE.

EVER my hap is slack and slow in comyng
Desire encreasing aye my hope vncertaine,
With doubtful loue that but encreaseth paine;
For, tigre like, so swift it is in parting.

Alas! the snow blacke shall it bee and scalding,
The sea waterlesse, and fishe upon the mountaine,
The Temmes shall back retnrne into his fountaine,
And where he rose, the Sunne shall take his lodging.
Ere I in this finde peace or quietnesse:
Or that loue, or my ladie right wisely,
Leaue to conspire against me wrongfully.
And if I haue after such bitternesse

One drope of swete, my mouth is out of taste,
That al my trust and trauell is but waste.

OF LOUE, FORTUNE, AND THE LOUERS
MINDE..
21
2.-
LOUE, fortune, and my minde whith doe remember
Eke that is now and that, that once hath bene,
Torment my hart so sore that very often

I hate and enuy them beyond all measure.
Love fleeth my hart, while fortune is depriuer
Of all my comfort; the foolish minde than
Burneth and plaineth, as one that very seldam
Liveth in rest. So still in displeasure
My pleasant dayes they flete and passe
And dayly doth myne yll change to the worse,
Whyle more than halfe is runne now of my course.
Alas, not of steele, but of brittle glasse,

I se that from my hand faileth my trust,
And all my thoughtes are dashed into dust.

THE LOUER PRAIYETH HIS OFFRED
2 Bo HART TO BE RECEAUED.)
How oft haue I, my deere and cruell foe,
With my great paine to get some peace or truce,
Geven you my hart: but you doe not vse,
In so hie things, to cast your minde so low.
If any other loke for it, as you trow,
Their vaine weake hope doth greatly them abuse;
And that thus I disdaine, that you refuse,
It was once mine, it can no more be so.

3

If you it chafe that it in you can finde In this exile no manner of comforte,

Nor liue alone, nor where he is calde, resort,

He may wander from his natural kinde.

So shall it be great hurt vnto vs twaine,

I was content, thy seruant to remaine

And not to be repayed on this fashion.
Now since in thee there is none other reason,
Displease thee not, if that I do refrain.
Unsaciat of my wo aud thy desire;

THE LOUERS LIFE COMPARED TO THE

ALPES. 2

24

CHARGING OF HIS LOUE AS VNPITEOUS
AND LOUING OTHER.

IF amorous faith, or if an hart vnfained,
A swete langour, a greate louely desire,
If honest wyll kindled in gentle fire,
If long errour in a blind mase chained,
If in my visage eche thought distained,
Or my sparkeling voice, lower or hier,
Which feare and shame so wofully doth tyre,
If pale colour which loue alas hath stained,
If to haue another then my self more dere,
If waleing or sighing continually,
With sorowful anger feding busily,
If burning farr, of and if frising nere,

25

Are cause that I by loue my self destroy, Yours is the fault, and mine the great annoy.

A RENOUNCING OF LOVE. ¿
FAREWELL loue, and all thy lawes for ever,
Thy bayted hookes shall tangle me no more:
Senec, and Plato call me from thy lore,
To parfit welth, my witt for to endeuer.
In blinde errour when I did perseuer,
Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore
Taught me in trifles that I set no store;
But scapte forth thence since libertie is leuer:
Therefore, farewell, go trouble yonger harts,
And in me claime noe more auctoritie:
With ydle youth goe vse thy propertie,
And theron spend thy many brittle dartes.

For hitherto though 1 haue lost my time,
Me list no lenger rotten boughs to clime.

THE LOUER FORSAKETH HIS VNKINDE
LOUE.

My hart I gaue thee, not to doe it pain,
But to preserue, lo, it to thee was taken,
I scrued thee, not that I should be forsaken,
But, that I should receiue reward againe,

But sins it pleaseth thee to fain default,
Farewell I say, departing from the fire.

For he that doth beleue, bearing in haud,
Ploweth in the water, and soweth in the sand.

THE LOUER DESCRIBETH HIS REST-
17
LESSE STATE.

THE flaming sighes that boyle within my breast,
Sometime break forth and they can well declare,
The hartes varest, and how that it doth fare,
The paine therof, the griefe, and all the rest.
The waterred eyen from whence the teares do fall,
Do feel some force or elce they would be dry,
The wasted flesh of colour ded can try,
And somtime tell what swetness is in gall.
And he that lust to see, and to discearne,
How care can force within a weried mind,
Come he to me I am that place assinde;
But for all this, no force, it doth no harme,
The wounde, alas, happe in some other place,
From whence noe toole away the skarre can race.

But you that of such like have had your part,
Can best be iudge. Wherefore my friend so dere,
I thought it good my state should now appere
To you, and that there is no great desart.
And wheras you in weighty matters great,
Of fortune saw the shadow that you know,
For trifling thinges I now am stricken so,
That though I fele my hart doth wound and beat,
I sit alone saue on the second day

My feuer comes, with whome 1 spend my time
In burning heat while that she list assigne.
And who hath helth and libertie alwaie,

Let him thank God, and let him not prouoke,
To haue the like of this my painfull stroke.

THE LOUER LAMENTES/THE DEATH
28
OF HIS LOUE.
THE piller perisht is wherto I lent,

The strongest stay of mine vnquiet minde;
The like of it no man again can finde,
From east to west still seking though he went,
To mine vnhappe. For happe away hath rent
Of all my ioy the very bark and rinde,
And I (alas!) by chance am thus assinde,
Dayly to moorne till death do it relent.
But sins that thus it is by desteny,
What can I more but haue a wofull hart;
My penne in plaint, my voyce in carefull crye,
My mynde in wo, my body full of smart,

And I my self, my self alwaies to hate,
Tyll dreadfull death doe ease my dolefull state,

THE LOUER SENDETH SIGHES TO
MOUE HIS SUTE.

Go burning sighes unto the frosen hart,
Goe break the yse which pities painfull dart

Might never perce, and if that mortall praier
In heauen be heard at lest yet I desire,
That death, or mercy, end my wofull smart:
Take with thee pain, whereof 1 haue my part,
And eke the flame from which I cannot start.
And leaue me then in rest, I you require.
Goe burning sighes fulfill that I desire,
I must go worke, I see, by craft and art,
For truth and faith in her is laid apart:
Alas I cannot therefore now assaile her,
With pitifull complaint and scalding fier,
That from my brest deceiuably doth start.

COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE OF HIS LOUE.

course.

So feeble is the thred that doth the burden stay, Of my poor life; in heauy plight that falleth in decay, [succours, That but it haue elswhere some ayde or some The running spindle of my fate anon shall end his [part, For since thunhappy houre that dyd me to deFrom my swete weale one only hope hath stayed my life apart, [minde, Which doth perswade such words vnto my sored Maintaine thy selfe, O wofull wight, some better luck to finde: [sight, For though thou be depriued from thy desired Who can thee tell, if thy returne be for thy more delight? [couer, Or who can tell, thy loss if thou mayst once reSome pleasant hower thy wo may wrap, and thee defend and couer. [tained, Thus in this trust, as yet it hath my life susBut now (alas) I see it faint, and I by trust am trained. [bend, The tyme doth flete, and I see how the howers do So fast, that I haue scant the space to marke my comming end. [his light, Westward the Sunne from out the east scant shews When in the west he hies him strayghte within the dark of night;

And comes as fast, where he began his path awry, From east to west, from west to east, so doth his journey lye. [here; The lyfe so short so frayle, that mortall men liue Soe great a weight, so heauy charge the bodyes that we bere; [space, That when I think vpon the distaunce and the That doth so farre deuide me from my dere desired face,

I know not how t'attaine the winges that I require, To lyft me up, that I might fly, to follow my desyre. Thus of that hope that doth my life something sustaine,

Thuneasy life I leade, doth teach me for to mete, The floodes, the seas, the land, the hilles, that doth them entermete. to clere, Twene me and those shene lights that wonted for My darked pangs of cloudy thoughts, as bright as Phebus sphere

It teacheth me also, what was my pleasant state, The more to fele by such record how that my welth doth bate.

If such record (alas) prouoke thenflamed minde, Which sprong that day that I did leaue the best of me behind.

we couer.

If loue forget himselfe by length of absence let, Who doth me guide (O wofull wretch) vnto this baited net [for me, Where doth encrease my care, much better were As dumme as stone, all thing forgot, still absent for to be. [glasse, Alas the clear christall, the bright transplendant Doth not bewray the colours hid which vnderneath it hase; [throwes discouer, As doth thaccumbred sprite the thoughtfull Of feares delite of fervent loue, that in our hartes [light; Out by these eyes it sheweth that evermore deIn plaint and teares to seek redress, and eke both day and night. [reioyce, Those kindes of pleasures most wherein men so To me they do redouble still of stormy sighes the [tent, For, I am one of them, whom playnt doth well conIt fittes me well my absent wealth me semes for to lament; [twaine, And with my teares tassy to charge mine eyes Like as my hart aboue the brink is fraughted full of payne: [treate And for because thereto, that those fair eyes to Do me prouoke, I will returne, my plaint thus to repeat:

voyce,

For there is nothing els, so toucheth me within, Where they rule all, and I alone, nought but the case or skin;

Wherefore I shall returne to them, as well, or spring From whom descends my mortal woe, aboue all other thing.

So shall mine eyes in payne accompany my hart, That were the guides, that did it lead of loue to feel the smart. [pride, The crisped gold that doth surmount Appollos The liuely streames of pleasant starres that vnder it doth glide. [theire heate, Wherein the beames of loue doe still increase Which yet so farre touch me to near in cold to make me sweat:

The wise and pleasant talke, soe rare or else alone, That gave to me the curteis gift, that earst had

neuer none.

Be farre from me alas, and euery other thing, I might forbeare with better will, then this that did me bring [payne, With pleasand woord and cheer, redress of lingred And wonted oft in kindled will to vertue me to trayne.

encrease,

Thus am I forst to hear and harken after newes, My comfort scant, my large desire in doubtful

trust renewes.

yet with more delight to mone my wofull

case,

I must complaine those hands, those armes, that firmly do embrace