Amanda Or, The Reformed Whore. Composed, and made by Thomas Cranley |
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[Fayrest, though my lines of late] |
 | Amanda |  |
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[Fayrest, though my lines of late]
Fayrest
, though my lines of late
Were not welcome to your hand,
Though they argu'de too much prate,
Doe not on your nicenesse stand.
Reade againe my second Letter
See if now my thrase be better.
Were not welcome to your hand,
Though they argu'de too much prate,
Doe not on your nicenesse stand.
Reade againe my second Letter
See if now my thrase be better.
I am sorry to offend,
So to purchase your displeasure,
And it grieves me I did send,
And doe now repent at leasure.
And I hope you'l be contented.
To forgive, since tis repented.
So to purchase your displeasure,
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And doe now repent at leasure.
And I hope you'l be contented.
To forgive, since tis repented.
Sure I am, I meant no ill,
Howsoever you may take it,
And I keepe that meaning still,
If you doubt, your tryall make it.
What I speake in words you shall,
Finde my deeds agree withall.
Howsoever you may take it,
And I keepe that meaning still,
If you doubt, your tryall make it.
What I speake in words you shall,
Finde my deeds agree withall.
Will you not be once perswaded
To returne an answer to me,
Can your heart not be invaded
Such a courtesie to doe me?
If for much you have beene tried,
I must looke t'had beene denyed.
To returne an answer to me,
Can your heart not be invaded
Such a courtesie to doe me?
If for much you have beene tried,
I must looke t'had beene denyed.
When so poore a thing as this
Can so hardly be obteyned
So as nothing comes amisse,
If from you it may be gained;
Write a line, a word, a letter,
Worst is best, when ther's no better.
Can so hardly be obteyned
So as nothing comes amisse,
If from you it may be gained;
Write a line, a word, a letter,
Worst is best, when ther's no better.
Doe you never use to write,
But to such as you doe know?
If love bids not, yet for spite,
To be rid of such a foe;
Let your nimble Pen disclose,
Whether we be friends, or foes.
But to such as you doe know?
If love bids not, yet for spite,
To be rid of such a foe;
Let your nimble Pen disclose,
Whether we be friends, or foes.
I will never give you over
Till you grant me my desire,
Doe you like or loathe a lover,
Be you frost, or be you fire,
I will send though you abhorre it,
Till you write, or chide me for it.
Till you grant me my desire,
Doe you like or loathe a lover,
Be you frost, or be you fire,
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Till you write, or chide me for it.
Wherefore to avoid the trouble
Take the course that may prevent it,
Give a single for a double,
So exchange, and nere repent it.
For two letters send me one,
Tis a thing is quickly done.
Take the course that may prevent it,
Give a single for a double,
So exchange, and nere repent it.
For two letters send me one,
Tis a thing is quickly done.
If you thinke I am too bold,
Chide me for it, I will leave it,
And when once your angers cold
Write your minde, and ile receive it:
So to be advisde, tis good
Not to write in heate of bloud.
Chide me for it, I will leave it,
And when once your angers cold
Write your minde, and ile receive it:
So to be advisde, tis good
Not to write in heate of bloud.
Then as I doe feele your minde
Ile reply, or else forbeare;
If you list not to be kinde,
Twill not make me shed a teare;
But continue as before,
Never writing to you more.
Ile reply, or else forbeare;
If you list not to be kinde,
Twill not make me shed a teare;
But continue as before,
Never writing to you more.
| Amanda | |