And then with open armes, I strayne my pillow softe: And as I close mine armes, mee thinkes I kisse thee ofte.
(5) But when at last I wake And finde mee mockte with dremes Alas, with moone I make My teares run down like strea∣(mes. +
All they that here this same, (10) Wyll spit at thy false deede:
And bid, fie on thy cursed name, And on thy false seede. +
That shewest so to the eye, And bearest so false an hew: (5) And makest all women cry, Lo, how ye men be vntrew?
But yet to excuse thee now, To them that would thee spot: Ile say, it was not thou, (10) It was mine owne poore lot.
¶ The Louer declareth his paynfull plight
for his beloued sake. +
S Ince needes ye will mee singe, giue eare vnto the voyce, Of mee pore man your bond seruant, that knoweth not to reioyce. Consider wel my care, my paine and my vnrest: Which thou with force of Cupids Dart hast grafted in my |(brest. (5) Heale, and withdraw from mee, the venim of that Darte Haue pitty, and release this wo, that doth consume my hart: The greatnes of my greefe, doth bid mee seeke release I seeke to finde to ease my payne, yet doth my care encrease.
I cease not to beholde, that doth augment my payne: +(10) I see my selfe I seeke my wo, yet can I not refrayne. That should my wo release, doth most encrease the same, The colde that should acquench the heat, doth most enrage the flame My pleasure is my payne, my game is most my greefe My cheefe delite doth worke my wo, my hart is my releefe (15) Sutch haps doth hap to them, that happeth so to loue, And hap most harde: so fast to binde, that nothing can remooue.