And therfore now all my requestes, From perill can not saue. Yet would I well it might appere To her my chiefe regard: (35) Though my desertes haue been to dereTo merite such reward. Sith fortunes will is now so bent To plage me thus poore man: I must my selfe therwith content: (40) And beare it as I can.
To his loue that had geuen
him answere of
T He answere that ye made to me my dere, When I did sue for my poore hartes redresse: Hath so appalde my countenance and my chere: That in this case, I am all comfortlesse: (5) Sins I of blame no cause can well expresse. I haue no wrong, where I can claime no right. Nought tane me fro, where I haue nothing had, Yet of my wo, I can not so be quite. Namely, sins that another may be glad (10) With that, that thus in sorow makes me sad. Yet none can claime (I say) by former graunt, That knoweth not of any graunt at all. And by desert, I dare well make auaunt, Of faithfull will, there is no where that shall (15) Beare you more truth, more ready at your call. Now good then, call againe that bitter word: That toucht your friende so nere with panges of paine: And say my dere that it was sayd in bord. Late, or to sone, let it not rule the gaine, +(20) Wherwith free will doth true desert retaine.