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The paine of pleasure

describing in a perfect mirror, the miseries of man [by Anthony Munday]

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Loue, The fourth pleasure.

Of little ioyes, behold this first for one,
some, Ladies loue do count a heauenly ioy:
In seeking which, some are so woe begone,
As harts consume with griefe and great annoy.
And some haue bene in loue so ouer shooes,
As lacke or losse, makes them their liues to loose.
For sundry men, by sundry meanes do seeke,
Their Ladies loue or liking to procure,
And what they thinke, that may their fancies keepe,
That must they doe, what paine they so endure.


What gem so rare, may please their mistresse eye:
Cost lands and life, but Louers dayly buy.
And let wealth waste, then loue begins to shrinke,
And when loue shrinkes, then farewell louers ioy:
Then wretched wightes, in sorrow so must sincke,
And worthy well to ioy in such a toy.
As so to seeke, and labour day by day,
To purchase that dooth breede their owne decay.
See then by loue, what cost, what care, what woe?
In getting first, and keeping then with paine:
In getting first, what dayly griefes doe grow,
In loosing then, what more despight againe.
Oh madhead man, to ioy in such a thing:
And with small ioy, doth thousand sorrowes bring.