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VI. A LOUER DISDAINED, COMPLAINETH.

If euer man had Loue to deerely bought,
Lo I am he that plaies within her maze:
And finds no waie, to get the same I sought,
But as the Dere are driuen vnto the gaze.
And to augment the grief of my desire,
My self to burne, I blowe the fire:
But shall I come nye you?
Of force I must flie you.
What death alas, maie be compared to this,
I praie within the maze of my sweete foe:
And when I would of her but craue a kiss,
Disdaine enforceth her awhile to goe.
My self I checke: yet doe I twiste the twine,
The pleasure hers, the paine is myne,
But shall I come nye you?
Of force I must flie you.

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You courtly wights, that wants your pleasaunt choyse:
Lende me a floud of teares, to waile my chaunce:
Happie are thei in Loue that can reioyse,
To their greate paines, where Fortune doth aduance.
But sith my sute alas, can not preuaile,
Full fraight with care, in grief still will I waile:
Sith you will nedes flie me,
I maie not come nye you.