Which other fansies driueth from my hart. (5) That to my selfe I do the thought reserue, The which vnwares did wounde my woful brest, For on her face mine eyes mought neuer rest, Sins that she knew I did her loue and serue, Her golden tresse is clad alway with blacke, (10) Her smiling lokes to hide thus euermore, And that restraines which I desire so sore. So doth this corner gouerne my alacke: In somer, sunne: in winters breath, of frost: Wherby the light of her faire lokes I lost.
Request to his loue to ioyne
bountie with beautie. +
T He golden gift that nature did thee geue To fasten frendes, and feede them at thy wyll, With fourme and fauour, taught me to beleue. How thow art made to shew her greatest skill. (5) Whose hidden vertues are not so vnknowen, But liuely domes might gather at the furst Where beauty so her perfect seede hath sowen, Of other graces folow nedes there must. Now certesse Garret, + sins all this is true, (10) That from aboue thy giftes are thus elect: Do not deface them than with fansies newe, Nor change of mindes let not thy minde infect: But mercy him thy frende, that doth thee serue, Who seekes alway thine honour to preserue.