[sig. Civ]
Mee thought in heauen I saw: how Ioue did laughe to skorne. To see you sweare so solemly, and ment to be forsworne. But as the Sirens singe, when treason they procure, (50) So smyling baytes the harmles soules: vnto their bane alure. Thy fawning flattering wordes, which now full falce I finde, Perswades mee to content my selfe, and turne from Cressids kinde. And all the sorte of those: that vse such craft I wish A speedy end, or lothsome life, to liue with Lasars dish. (55) Yet pardon I do pray: and if my wordes offend, A crased ship amid the streame, the Marriner must mende. And I thus tost and turnd: whose life to shipwracke goes Complaynes of wrongs thou hast mee don, and all my greefe forth |(showes. And could your hart consent? and could you gree therto? (60) Thus to betray your faythful freend, and promis to vndo? If nought your wordes could binde, to holde your suer behest, Nor ought my loue ne othes you sware, could bide within your brest Yet for the worldly shame, that by this facte might rise, Or for the losse of your good name, for dealing in this wise. (65) Or thus to see mee greeu’d: tormented still in payne, Thy gentil hart should haue bin pleasde such murder to refrayne. But through thy cruell deede: if that vntamed death, With speedy dart shall rid my life, or leaue my lyuing breath. The gods then can and will: requite thy bloddy acte, (70) And them I pray with lowly sute, for to reuenge thy facte. God graunt the earth may bring: nought forth to thy auayle. Nor any thing thou takest in hand, to purpose may preuayle. Thy most desired freend, I wish may bee most coy, Wherin thou doost thee most delite: and takest the greatest ioy. (75) That same I would might turne: vnto thy most mischeefe, That in thy life thy hart may feele, the smart of others greefe. But sith no good can come: of thy mishap to mee, I graunt some blame I doo deserue, that thus desire to see Thy blisfull life so changde, from weale to wretched state, (80) When freendes do breake the bonde of loue, then is their greatest |(hate. Thy deedes do sure deserue, much more reuenging spight, Then hart can thinke or tongue can tel, or this my pen can wright.