The Louer recounteth his faythfull diligence towarde
his beloued, with the rewardes that
hee reapeth therof. +
M Y fancy feedes, vpon the sugred gaule, My witlesse will, vnwillingly workes my woe: My carefull choyse, doth choose to keepe mee thraule, My franticke folly, fawns vpon my foe: (5) My lust alluers, my lickering lyppes to taste, The bayte wherin, the subtill hooke is plaste.
My hungry hope, doth heape my heauy hap, My sundry sutes, procure my more disdayne: My steadfast steppes, yet slyde into the trap, (10) My tryed truth, entangleth mee in trayne: I spye the snare, and will not backward go, My reason yeeldes, and yet sayth euer, no.
In pleasant plat, I tread vpon the snake. My flamyng thirst, I quench with venomd Wine: (15) In dayntie dish, I doo the poyson take, My hunger biddes mee, rather eate then pine: I sow, I set, yet fruit, ne flowre I finde, I pricke my hand, yet leaue the Rose behinde.