University of Virginia Library

Where shall I haue

The louer complaineth himself forsaken.

Where shall I haue, at myne owne wyll,
Teares to complain? Where shall I fet
Such sighes? that I may sigh my fyll:
And then agayne my plaintes repete.
For, though my plaint shall haue none end:
My teares cannot suffise my wo.
To mone my harm, haue I no frend.
For fortunes frend is mishaps fo.
Comfort (God wot) els haue I none:
But in the winde to wast my wordes,
Nought moueth you my dedly mone:
But stil you turne it into bordes.

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G1v

I speake not, now, to moue your hart,
That you should rue vpon my payn:
The sentence geuen may not reuert:
I know, such labour were but vayn.
But since that I for you (my dere)
Haue lost that thyng, that was my best:
A right small losse it must appere,
To lese these wordes, and all the rest.
But, though they sparcle in the winde:
Yet, shall they shew your falsed faith:
Which is returned to his kynde:
For lyke to like: the prouerb sayeth,
Fortune, and you did me auance.
Me thought, I swam, and could not drowne:
Happiest of all, but my mischance
Did lift me vp, to throw me downe.
And you, with her, of cruelnesse,
Dyd set your foote vpon my neck,
Me, and my welfare to oppresse:
Without offence, your hart to wreck,
Where are your pleasant wordes? alas:
Where is your faith? your stedfastnesse?
There is no more: but all doth passe:
And I am left all comfortlesse.
But since so much it doth you greue,
And also me my wretched life:
Haue here my troth: Nought shall releue,
But death alone my wretched strife.
Therfore, farewell my life, my death,
My gayn, my losse: my salue, my sore:
Farewell also, with you my breath:
For, I am gone for euermore.