Which granteth nought but great disdain,
For loss of all my liberty.

Alas! this is extremity,
For love to find such cruelty.

6 For love to find such cruelty,
Alas! it is a careful lot;

And for to void such mockery

There is no way but slip the knot!
The gain so cold, the pain so hot!
Praise it who list, I like it not.

THE FORSAKEN LOVER

CONSOLETH HIMSELF WITH REMEMBRANCE OF PAST HAPPINESS.

1 SPITE hath no power to make me sad, Nor scornfulness to make me plain.

It doth suffice that once I had,

And so to leave it is no pain.

2 Let them frown on that least doth gain,
Who did rejoice must needs be glad;
And though with words thou ween'st to reign
It doth suffice that once I had.

3 Since that in checks thus overthwart,
And coyly looks thou dost delight;
It doth suffice that mine thou wert,
Though change hath put thy faith to flight.

4 Alas! it is a peevish spite,

To yield thyself and then to part; But since thou force thy faith so light, It doth suffice that mine thou wert.

5 And since thy love doth thus decline,
And in thy heart such hate doth grow;
It doth suffice that thou wert mine,
And with good will I quite it so.

6 Sometime my friend, farewell my foe, Since thou change I am not thine; But for relief of all my woe,

It doth suffice that thou wert mine.

7 Praying you all that hear this song,

To judge no wight, nor none to blame;
It doth suffice she doth me wrong,

And that herself doth know the same.

8 And though she change it is no shame, Their kind it is, and hath been long: Yet I protest she hath no name;

It doth suffice she doth me wrong.

HE COMPLAINETH TO HIS HEART

THAT HAVING ONCE RECOVERED HIS FREEDOM HE HAD AGAIN BECOME THRALL TO LOVE.

1 Ан! my heart, what aileth thee

To set so light my liberty!

Making me bond when I was free:

Ah! my heart, what aileth thee?

2 When thou were rid from all distress,
Void of all pain and pensiveness,
To choose again a new mistress;

Ah! my heart, what aileth thee?

3 When thou were well thou could not hold: To turn again, that were too bold;

Thus to renew my sorrows old,

Ah! my heart, what aileth thee?

4 Thou know'st full well that but of late,
I was turned out of Love's gate:
And now to guide me to this mate!

Ah! my heart, what aileth thee?

5 I hop'd full well all had been done; But now my hope is ta'en and won; To my torment to yield so soon,

Ah! my heart, what aileth thee?

HE PROFESSETH INDIFFERENCE.
HATE whom ye list, for I care not;
Love whom ye list, and spare not;
Do what ye list, and dread not;
Think what ye list, I fear not;
For as for me I am not,

But even as one that recks.not,
Whether ye hate or hate not,
For in your love I dote not;
Wherefore I pray you forget not;

But love whom ye list, for I care not.

10

HE REJOICETH THAT HE HAD BROKEN THE SNARES OF LOVE.

1 TANGLED I was in Love's snare,

Oppress'd with pain, torment with care;
Of grief right sure, of joy full bare,

E

Clean in despair by cruelty;
But ha! ha ha! full well is me,
For I am now at liberty.

2 The woful days so full of pain,
The weary night all spent in vain,
The labour lost for so small gain,
To write them all it will not be;
But ha! ha ha! full well is me,
For I am now at liberty.

3 Every thing that fair doth show,
When proof is made it proveth not so;
But turneth mirth to bitter woe,

Which in this case full well I see;
But ha! ha ha! full well is me,
For I am now at liberty.

4 Too great desire was my guide,
And wanton will went by my side,
Hope ruled still and made me bide,
Of Love's craft the extremity.
But ha ha! ha! full well is me,
For I am now at liberty.

5 With feigned words, which were but wind, To long delays I was assign'd;

Her wily looks my wits did blind;
Thus as she would I did agree.
But ha ha! ha! full well is me,
For I am now at liberty.

6 Was never bird tangled in lime
That brake away in better time,
Than I, that rotten boughs did climb,

And had no hurt, but 'scaped free.
Now ha! ha! ha! full well is me,
For I am now at liberty.

THE LOVER PRAYETH

HIS LADY'S HEART MIGHT BE ENFLAMED WITH EQUAL AFFECTION.

1 LOVE doth again

Put me to pain,
And yet all is but lost.
I serve in vain,

And am certain,
Of all misliked most.

2 Both heat and cold
Doth so me hold,

And comber so my mind;
That whom I should
Speak and behold,

It driveth me still behind.

3 My wits be past,

My life doth waste,
My comfort is exiled;
And I in haste,

Am like to taste
How love hath me beguiled.

4 Unless that right

May in her sight

Obtain pity and grace;
Why should a wight
Have beauty bright,
If mercy have no place?