A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions Garnished and decked with diuers dayntie deuises, right delicate and delightfull, to recreate eche modest minde withall. First framed and fashioned in sundrie formes, by diuers worthy workemen of late dayes: and now, ioyned together and builded up: By T. P. [i.e. Thomas Procter] |
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The Louer declareth his paynfull plight
for his beloued sake.
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 | A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions |  |
The Louer declareth his paynfull plight for his beloued sake.
Since
needes ye will mee singe, giue eare vnto the voyce,
Of mee pore man your bond seruant, ye knoweth not to reioyce.
Consider wel my care, my paine and my vnrest:
Which thou with force of Cupids Dart hast grafted in my brest.
Heale, and withdraw from mee, the venim of that Darte
Haue pitty, and release this wo, that doth consume my hart:
The greatnes of my greefe, doth bid mee seeke release
I seeke to finde to ease my payne, yet doth my care encrease.
Of mee pore man your bond seruant, ye knoweth not to reioyce.
Consider wel my care, my paine and my vnrest:
Which thou with force of Cupids Dart hast grafted in my brest.
Heale, and withdraw from mee, the venim of that Darte
Haue pitty, and release this wo, that doth consume my hart:
The greatnes of my greefe, doth bid mee seeke release
I seeke to finde to ease my payne, yet doth my care encrease.
I cease not to beholde, that doth augment my payne:
I see my selfe I seeke my wo, yet can I not refrayne.
That should my wo release, doth most encrease the same,
The colde that should acquench the heat, doth most enrage the flame
My pleasure is my payne, my game is most my greefe
My cheefe delite doth worke my wo, my hart is my releefe
Sutch haps doth hap to them, that happeth so to loue,
And hap most harde: so fast to binde, that nothing can remooue.
I see my selfe I seeke my wo, yet can I not refrayne.
That should my wo release, doth most encrease the same,
The colde that should acquench the heat, doth most enrage the flame
My pleasure is my payne, my game is most my greefe
My cheefe delite doth worke my wo, my hart is my releefe
Sutch haps doth hap to them, that happeth so to loue,
And hap most harde: so fast to binde, that nothing can remooue.
For when the harme is fixed, and rooted in the hart,
No tongue can tell, nor pen may write, how greuous is the smart
I haue thought loue but play, vntill I felte the sore,
But now I felte a thousand greefes I neuer felt before.
To tell what paynes I bide, if that I could deuise,
I tel the truth, beleeue mee wel, the day will not suffise
Graunt now therfore some rest, since thus thou hast mee bound,
To be thine owne, til body mine, lye buried vnder ground.
No tongue can tell, nor pen may write, how greuous is the smart
I haue thought loue but play, vntill I felte the sore,
But now I felte a thousand greefes I neuer felt before.
To tell what paynes I bide, if that I could deuise,
I tel the truth, beleeue mee wel, the day will not suffise
Graunt now therfore some rest, since thus thou hast mee bound,
To be thine owne, til body mine, lye buried vnder ground.
FINIS.
| A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions | |