Tottel sig. Fiiiv

[sig. Fiiiv]

It plesed me then to haue so faire a grace, To stynge the hart, that would haue had my place,

To his loue from whom he had
her gloues. +

W Hat nedes these threatning woordes, and wasted wynd? All this can not make me restore my pray. To robbe your good ywis is not my mynde: Nor causelesse your faire hand did I display, (5) Let loue be iudge: or els whom next we finde: That may both hear, what you and I can say. She reft my hart: and I a gloue from her: Let vs se then if one be worth the other.

Of the fained frend. +

R Ight true it is, and sayd full yore ago: Take hede of him, that by the backe thee claweth. +For, none is worse, then is a frendly fo. Though thee seme good, all thinge that thee deliteth: (5) Yet know it well, that in thy bosome crepeth. +For, many a man such fire oft times he kindleth: That with the blase his berd him self he singeth.

The louer taught, mistrusteth
allurementes. +

I T may be good like it who list: But I do dout, who can me blame? For oft assured, yet haue I mist: And now againe I feare the same
(5) The wordes, that from your mouth last came, Of sodain change make me agast. For dread to fall, I stand not fast. Alas I tread an endlesse mase: That seke taccord two contraries: (10) And hope thus still, and nothing hase: