AN EARNEST REQUEST

TO HIS CRUEL MISTRESS EITHER TO PITY HIM, OR LET HIM DIE.

1 AT last withdraw your cruelty,
Or let me die at once;

It is too much extremity,
Devised for the nonce,
To hold me thus alive,
In pain still for to drive:
What may I more sustain,
Alas! that die would fain,
And cannot die for pain?

2 For to the flame wherewith ye burn,
My thought and my desire,
When into ashes it should turn
My heart, by fervent fire,
Ye send a stormy rain
That doth it quench again,
And make mine eyes express,
The tears that do redress

My life, in wretchedness.

1

3 Then when these should have drown'd, And overwhelm'd my heart,

The heart doth them confound,
Renewing all my smart;

Then doth flame increase,
My torment cannot cease;
My woe doth then revive,
And I remain alive,

With death still for to strive

1'Redress:' recover.

4 But if that ye would have my death,
And that ye would none other,
Shortly then for to spend my breath,
Withdraw the one, or t'other;
For thus your cruelness
Doth let itself doubtless;

And it is reason why!

No man alive, nor I,

Of double death can die.

THE ABUSED LOVER REPROACHETH

HIS FALSE MISTRESS OF DISSIMULATION.

1 To wet your eye withouten tear,

And in good health to feign disease,
That you thereby mine eyen might blear,
Therewith your other friends to please;
And though ye think ye need not fear,
Yet so ye can not me appease;

But as ye list fawn, flatter, or glose,
Ye shall not win, if I do lose.

2 Prate, and paint, and spare not, Ye know I can me wreak;

And if so be ye can so not,

Be sure I do not reck;

And though ye swear it were not,
I can both swear and speak

By God, and by this cross,

If I have the mock, ye shall have the loss.

HE BEWAILS HIS HARD FATE THAT

THOUGH BELOVED OF HIS MISTRESS HE STILL LIVES IN PAIN.

1 I LOVE, loved; and so doth she,

And yet in love we suffer still;
The cause is strange as seemeth me,
To love so well, and want our will.

2 O deadly yea! O grievous smart!

Worse than refuse, unhappy gain!
In love who ever play'd this part,

To love so well, and live in pain?

3 Were ever hearts so well agreed,

Since love was love as I do trow,
That in their love so evil did speed,

To love so well, and live in woe?

4 Thus mourn we both, and hath done long, With woful plaint and careful voice; Alas! it is a grievous wrong,

To love so well, and not rejoice.

5 Send here an end of all our moan, With sighing oft my breath is scant; Since of mishap ours is alone,

To love so well, and yet to want.

6 But they that causers be of this,

Of all our cares God send them part;
That they may know what grief it is,
To love so well, and live in smart.

A COMPLAINT OF THE FALSENESS OF LOVE.

1 Ir is a grievous smart,

To suffer pain and sorrow;
But most grieveth my heart,

He laid his faith to borrow; 1
And falsehood hath his faith and troth,
And he foresworn by many an oath.

2 All ye lovers, perdie!

Hath cause to blame his deed, Which shall example be,

To let you of your speed;

Let never woman again

Trust to such words as man can feign.

3 For I unto my cost

Am warning to you all;

That they whom you trust most
Soonest deceive you shall;

But complaint cannot redress,

Of my great grief the great excess.

4 Farewell all my welfare! My shoe is trod awry. Now may I cark and care,

To sing lullaby! lullaby! Alas! what shall I do thereto? There is no shift to help me now.

5 Who made it such offence, To love for love again;

1 'Borrow' as surety.

God wot! that my pretence
Was but to ease his pain;

For I had ruth to see his woe:
Alas! more fool! why did I so!

6 For he from me is gone,

And makes thereat a game;
And hath left me alone,

To suffer sorrow and shame;
Alas! he is unkind doubtless,

To leave me thus all comfortless.

THE LOVER SUETH THAT HIS SERVICE
MAY BE ACCEPTED.

1 THE heart and service to you proffer'd
With right good will full honestly,
Refuse it not since it is offer'd,

But take it to you gentlely.

2 And though it be a small present,
Yet good, consider graciously,

The thought, the mind, and the intent
Of him that loves you faithfully.

3 It were a thing of small effect
To work my woe thus cruelly;
For my good will to be object,
Therefore accept it lovingly.

4 Pain, or travail; to run, or ride,
I undertake it pleasantly;

Bid ye me go, and straight I glide,
At your commandment humbly.

G