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To one whom he had long loued, and at last was refused vvithout cause, and one imbraced that least deserued it.

If lyking best with fancy firmely set,
If louing most, with retchlesse care of state,
If true good will, whom time could neuer fret,
If pardoning faults, which now I rewe too late,

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[162]

If good stil done, and euer meant to you:
Are not of force to make your frendships true.

If foule abuse and tearmes of loathsome sound,
If mischiefe meant, and seldome good bestowed,
If black defame and credit brought to ground
If base reports so rashly spread abroad,
Can winne good wil, and binde a surer band:
Then he that loues and beares you not in hand.

Then happy he that workes your deepe decay,
And slaunder seekes to both your open shames,
For he doth laugh and beare the bel away,
Unlucky I with whom so il it frames,
As now at last in guerdon of my toyle:
I reape refuse and bide this second foile.

Wel may he laugh that is my deadly foe,
And I lament impatient of my paine,
Il may she fare whose craft hath causde my woe,
And fickle faith deceiued me thus againe.
But I too blame as many foulers bee.
Who had the bird in hand and let her flee.

More wise then you the babe that feeling flame
And once indangerd of the burning blaze,
Doth straight refuse the touching of the same,
But you much like the gnat doe loue to gaze,

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And flee so long about the candle light:
As both wil seare your wings and carcasse quight.

The slaue that serues his prentiship in paine
Not halfe so much a wretch as wretched I,
For he doth end his yeeres with certaine gaine,
Where I haue leaue the hardest hap to trie,
And hopelesse quite of what by due was mine
To grone in greefe, and with my paines to pine.

Wel, wel, content, sith chaunce and you agree
I take my hap though cleane against my wil
Enforst by you my faith and frend I flee,
You must by kinde remaine a woman stil,
Who lookes to haue the crowe to change his blacke
Before it chaunce perchance his eyes may lacke.

Sith you can rule (as by report you may,)
(And that to rule is it you women craue)
Begin your raigne, God graunt he doe obey
That long in yoke hath kept you like a slaue,
I feare, I wish, I hope the time wil bee:
When Loue daies made for lucre wil not gree.

Sticke fast to him who bolsters your estate,
Forgiue the faults that haue been done amisse,
Forget reports, cling closely to your mate,
But thinke on him sometime that wrote you this,

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[168]

If euer chaunce doe make your bondage free:
God send your second choyce like this to bee.

And as for him whose helping hand hath done,
The best it might to worke my cruel woe,
I trust in time when all the threede is sponne,
Shall deepely rewe that he abusde me so.
That womans spite all other spites exceedes:
It doth appeere by both your cursed deedes.

If my desert to him had been so ill,
Then could I not on him haue laid the blame,
If mine abuse to you had crackt good will,
Yours were the praise and mine the open shame,
I loued you both, and yet doe reape at last:
But hate from both, for all my frendship past.

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