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The complete works of John Lyly

now for the first time collected and edited from the earliest quartos with life, bibliography, essays, notes and index by R. Warwick Bond

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64.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Why ------]

Why ------
When life is my true happinesse disease?
My soule, my soule, thy saftie makes me flie
The fault is meanes, that might my payne appease. [OMITTED]
But in my hart her seuerall tormentes dwell.
Ah worthlesse witt to traine mee to this woe,
Deceiptfull arts that nourish discontent:
Ill thriue the follie that bewitcht me so,
Vaine though[t]s adieu for now I will repent.
And yet my wantes perswade me to proceed,
Since none takes pittie one a Scholers need.
forgiue me God althought I curse my birth,
And ban the ayre wherin I breath a wreatch:
Since miserie hath daunted all my mirth,
And I am quite vndon through promis[e breach]
Oh frendes, no frendes that then vn[kind]ly frowne,
When changing fortune casts vs headlong downe.
Without redresse complains my carelesse Verse,
And Mydas eares relent not at my moane
In some farr land will I my griefe rehearse,
Mongst them that wilbee mooued when I groane,
Ingland adieu the soyle that brought mee forth
Adieu vnkinde where skill is no[t]hing worth.