Tottel sig. Ccir

[sig. Ccir]

Moued your minde, why changed your will, Sithe vertue the cause abideth still. Such, Fame reported her to be As rare it were to finde her peere, (15) For vertue and for honestie, For her free hart and lowly cheere. This laud had lied if you had sped, And fame bene false that hath ben spred. +Sith she hath so kept her good name. (20) Such praise of life and giftes of grace, As brute self + blusheth for to blame, Such fame as fame feares to deface: You sclaunder not but make it plaine, That you blame brute of brutish traine. +(25) If you haue found it looking neere, Not as you toke the brute to be. Bylike you ment by lowly cheere, Bountie and hart that you call free, But lewd lightnesse easy to frame, +(30) To winne your will against her name. Nay she may deme your deming so, A marke of madnesse in his kinde, Such causeth not good name to go: As your fond folly sought to finde. (35) For brute of kinde bent ill to blase, Alway sayth ill, but forced by cause. The mo there be, such as is she, More should be gods thank for his grace. The more is her ioy it to see. (40) Good should by geason, earne no place, Nor nomber make nought, that is good. +Your strange lusting hed wants a hoode. Her dealing greueth you (say ye) Byside your labour lost in vaine. (45) Her dealing was not as we see, Sclaunder the end of your great paine, Ha lewd lieng lips, and hatefull hart, What canst thou desire in such desart. Ye will repent, and right for done. (50) Ye haue a dede deseruing shame. +From reasons race farre haue ye ronne. Hold your rayling, kepe your tong tame.