I can not liue with stones (30) It is to hard a foode: I will be dead at onesTo do my lady good.
The picture of a louer. +
B Ehold my picture here well portrayed for the nones. With hart consumed and falling flesh, behold the very bones. Whose cruell chance alas and desteny is such, Onely because I put my trust in some folke all to much. (5) For sins the time that I did enter in this pine, I neuer saw the rising sunne but with my weping eyen. Nor yet I neuer heard so swete a voice or sound, But that to me it did encrease the dolour of my wound. Nor in so soft a bedde, alas I neuer lay, (10) But that it semed hard to me or euer it was day, Yet in this body bare, that nought but life retaines, The strength wherof clene past away the care yet still remaine. Like as the cole in flame doth spend it self you se, To vaine and wretched cinder dust till it consumed be. +(15) So doth this hope of mine inforce my feruent sute, To make me for to gape in vaine, whilst other eate the frute. And shall do till the death doth geue me such a grace, To rid this silly wofull sprite out of this dolefull case. And then would God wer writ + in stone or els in leade, (20) This Epitaphe vpon my graue, to shew why I am dead. Here lyeth the louer lo, who for the loue he aught, Aliue vnto his lady dere, his death therby he caught. And in a shielde of blacke, loe here his armes appeares, With weping eyes as you may see, well poudred all with teares. (25) Loe here you may behold, aloft vpon his brest, A womans hand straining the hart of him that loued her best. Wherfore all you that see this corps for loue that starues, Example make vnto you all, that thanklesse louers sarues.