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And you my thoughts that some mistrust doe carry, If for mistrust my Mistrisse doe you blame: Say, though you alter, yet you doe not varie, (10) As shee doth change, and yet remaine the same. Distrust doth enter harts, but not infect, And loue is sweetest, seasoned with suspect.
If shee for this, with clowdes doe maske her eyes, And make the heauens darke with her disdaine: (15) With windie sighes disperse them in the skyes, Or with thy teares dissolue them into rayne. Thoughts, hopes, and loue, returne to me no more, Till Cinthia shine, as shee hath done before.

FINIS. ¶These three ditties were taken out of Maister
Iohn Dowlands booke of tableture for the Lute, the
Authours names not there set downe, & therefore left
to their owners.

Montanus Sonnet in the woods. +

A Las, how wander I amidst these woods, Whereas no day bright shine doth finde accesse? But where the melancholy fleeting floods, (Darke as the night) my night of woes expresse, (5) Disarmde of reason, spoyld of Natures goods, Without redresse to salue my heauinesse I walke, whilst thought (too cruell to my harmes,) With endlesse greefe my heedlesse iudgement charmes.
My silent tongue assailde by secrete feare, (10) My trayterous eyes imprisond in theyr ioy: My fatall peace deuour’d in fained cheere,