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OF DISSEMBLING WORDS.

THROUGHOUT the world if it were sought,
Fair words enough a man shall find;
They be good cheap, they cost right nought,
Their substance is but only wind;

But well to say and so to mean,
That sweet accord is seldom seen.

OF SUDDEN TRUSTING.

DRIVEN by desire I did this deed,
To danger myself without cause why,
To trust th' untrue, not like to speed,
To speak and promise faithfully:
But now the proof doth verify,
That whoso trusteth ere he know,
Doth hurt himself, and please his foe.

THE LADY TO ANSWER DIRECTLY WITH YEA OR NAY.

1 MADAM, withouten many words,

Once I am sure you will, or no:

And if you will, then leave your bourds,
And use your wit, and show it so:

2 For with a beck

you shall me call;

And if of one, that burns alway,

Ye have pity or ruth at all,

Answer him fair with yea or nay.

3 If it be yea, I shall be fain;

If it be nay, friends as before; You shall another man obtain,

And I mine own, and yours no more.

ANSWER.

1 Or few words, Sir, you seem to be,
And where I doubted what I would do
Your quick request hath caused me

Quickly to tell you what you shall trust to.

2 For he that will be called with a beck,
Makes hasty suit on light desire:
Is ever ready to the check,

And burneth in no wasting fire.

3 Therefore whether you be lief or loth,
And whether it grieve you light or sore,

I am at a point: I have made an oath,
Content you with 'Nay;' for you get no more.

THE LOVER PROFESSETH HIMSELF
CONSTANT.

WITHIN my breast I never thought it gain

Of gentle minds the freedom for to lose; Nor in my heart sank never such disdain, To be a forger, faults for to disclose: Nor I cannot endure the truth to glose, To set a gloss upon an earnest pain:

Nor I am not in number one of those That list to blow retreat to every train.

THE LOVER BLAMETH HIS LOVE

FOR RENTING OF THE LETTER HE SENT HER.

1 SUFFICED not, Madàm, that you did tear
My woful heart, but thus also to rent
The weeping paper that to you I sent,
Whereof each letter was written with a tear?

2 Could not my present pains, alas! suffice

Your greedy heart? and that my heart doth fecl Torments, that prick more sharper than the steel, But new and new must to my lot arise?

3 Use then my death: so shall your cruelty,

Spite of your spite, rid me from all my smart, And I no more such torments of the heart Feel as I do: this shall you gain thereby.

THE LOVER COMPLAINETH AND HIS LADY COMFORTETH.

1 Lover. Ir burneth yet, alas! my heart's desire. Lady. What is the thing that hath inflam'd thy heart?

Lover. A certain point as fervent as the fire.
Lady.

The heat shall cease, if that thou wilt
convert.

Lover. I cannot stop the fervent raging ire.
Lady. What may I do, if thyself cause thy

smart?

Lover. Hear my request, and rue my weeping

chere.

Lady. With right good will, say on: lo, I thee

hear.

2 Lover. That thing would I, that maketh two content. Thou seekest, perchance, of me, that I

Lady.

may not.

Lover. Would God, thou wouldst, as thou mayst well, assent.

Lady.

That I may not, the grief is mine, God wot. Lover. But I it feel, whatso thy words have meant. Lady. Suspect me not: my words be not forgot. Lover. Then say, alas, shall I have help or no? Lady. I see no time to answer yea, but no.

3 Lover. Say yea, dear heart, and stand no more in

doubt.

Lady. I may not grant a thing that is so dear. Lover. Lo, with delays thou drivest me still about. Lady. Thou wouldst my death, it plainly doth

appear.

Lover. First, may my heart his blood and life bleed

out.

Lady. Then for my sake, alas, thy will forbear. Lover. From day to day thus wastes my life away. Lady. Yet for the best, suffer some small delay.

4 Lover. Now good! say yea: do once so good a deed. Lady. If I said yea, what should thereof ensue? Lover. A heart in pain of succour so should speed: "Twixt yea and nay, my doubt shall still

Lady.

renew.

My sweet, say yea; and do away this dread.
Thou wilt needs so: be it so; but then be

true.

Lover. Nought would I else, nor other treasure none. Thus hearts be won by love, request, and

moan.

THE LOVER SUSPECTED BLAMETH
ILL TONGUES.

1 MISTRUSTFUL minds be moved

To have me in suspect,

The truth it shall be proved,

Which time shall once detect.

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OF HIS LOVE CALLED ANNA.

WHAT Word is that, that changeth not,
Though it be turn'd and made in twain?
It is mine Anna, God it wot,

The only causer of my pain;

My love that meedeth with disdain. Yet is it lov'd, what will you more? It is my salve, and eke my sore.

A RIDDLE OF A GIFT GIVEN BY A LADY.

A LADY gave me a gift she had not;
And I receiv'd her gift which I took not;

She gave it me willingly, and yet she would not;
And I receiv'd it, albeit I could not:

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