Flowring to day, to morowe apt to faile, Tickell treasure abhorred of reason, +(5) Daugerous to dele with, vaine, of none auaile, Costly in keping, past not worthe two peason, Slipper in sliding as is an eles taile, Hard to attaine, once gotten not geason, Iewel of ieopardie that perill doth assaile, (10) False and vntrue, enticed oft to treason, Enmy to youth: that most may I bewaile. Ah bitter swete infecting as the poyson: Thou farest as frute that with the frost is taken, To day redy ripe, to morowe all to shaken.
A complaint by night of the louer
not beloued. +
A Las so all things now do hold their peace. Heauen and earth disturbed in nothing: The beasts, the ayre, the birdes their song do cease: The nightes chare the starres about doth bring: (5) Calme is the Sea, the waues worke lesse and lesse: So am not I, whom loue alas doth wring, Bringing before my face the great encrease Of my desires, whereat I wepe and sing, In ioy and wo, as in a doutfull ease. (10) For my swete thoughtes sometime do pleasure bring: But by and by the cause of my disease Geues me a pang, that inwardly doth sting. When that I thinke what griefe it is againe, To liue and lacke the thing should ridde my paine.