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Behold my picture here

The Picture of a louer.

Behold my picture here well portrayed for the nones,
With hart consumed and fallyng flesshe, lo here the very bones.
Whose cruell chaunce alas and desteny is such,
Onely because I put my trust in some folke all to much.

X1v


For since the time that I did enter in this pine,
I neuer saw the risyng sunne but with my wepyng eyen.
Nor yet I neuer heard so swete a voice or sounde,
But that to me it did encrease the dolour of my wounde.
Nor in so soft a bedde, alas I neuer laye,
But that it semed hard to me or euer it was daye.
Yet in this body bare that nought but life retaines,
The strength wherof clene past away the care yet still remaines.
Like as the cole in flame dothe spende it selfe you se,
To vaine and wretched cinder dust till it consumed be.
So dothe 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 do geue me such a grace,
To rid this sillye wofull spirite out of this dolefull case.
And then wold God were writte in stone or els in leade,
This Epitaphe vpon my graue, to shew why I am deade.
Here lieth the louer loe, who for the loue he aught,
Aliue vnto his ladye dere, his death therby he caught.
And in a shielde of blacke, loe here his armes appeares,
With weping eies as you may see, well poudred all with teares.
Loe here you may beholde, aloft vpon his brest,
A womans hand strainyng the hart of him that loued her best.
Wherfore all you that se this corps for loue that starues,
Example make vnto you all, that thankelesse louers sarues.