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Epitaphes, Epigrams, Songs and Sonets

with a Discourse of the Friendly affections of Tymetes to Pyndara his Ladie. Newly corrected with additions, and set out by George Turbervile
 

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To his Friend that refusde him without cause why but onely vpon delight of chaunge.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To his Friend that refusde him without cause why but onely vpon delight of chaunge.

You showe your selfe to bee
a Woman right by kinde:
You lyke and then mislyke againe
where you no cause doe finde.
I can not thinke that loue
was planted in your brest,
As did your flattring lookes declare,
and periurde tongue protest.
Thou swarste alone that I
thy fansie did subdue,
Then why should frensie force thee now
to show thy selfe vntrue?

[113]

Fie faithlesse woman fie,
wilt thou condemne the kinde
Bicause of iust report of yll
and blot of wauering minde?
Too playne it now appeares
that lust procurde thy loue,
Or else it would not so decay
and causelesse thus remoue.
I thought that I at first
a Lucrece had subdude,
But nowe I finde that fansie fonde
my senses did delude
I deemde that I had got
a Fawlcon to the fist,
Whome I might quickly haue reclaimde,
but I my purpose mist.
For (oh) the worser hap
my Fawlcon is so free,
As downe shee stoupes to straungers lure
and forceth least of mee.
Good shape was yll bestowde
vpon so vile a Kite,
That Haggard wise doth loue to liue
and doth in chaunge delight.
Yeeld me thy slanting Hood,
shake off those Belles of thine,
Such checking Bussards yll deserue
or Bell or Hood so fine.

114

With Fowles of baser sort
how can you brooke too flie,
That earst your Nature did to Hawkes
of stately kinde applie?
If want of pray enforste
this chaunge thou art too blame:
For I had euer traines in store
to make my Fawlcon game.
I had a Tassell eke
full gentle by his kinde,
Too flie with thee in vse of wing
the greater ioy to finde.
No, doubtlesse wanton lust
and fleshly fowle desire
Did make thee loath my friendly lure,
and set thy hart on fire
Too trie what mettall was
in Bussards to be founde
This, this was it that made thee stowpe
from loftie gate to grounde.
Wherefore if euer luck
doe let me light on thee,
And Fortune graunt me once againe
thy keeper for to bee:
Thy diet shall be such,
thy tyring rumpes so bare,
As thou shalt know thy keeper well,
and for none other care.

[114]

Meanewhile on carren feede,
thy hungrie gorge to glut:
That all thy lust in daylie chaunge
and diet new dost put.
Diseases must of force
such feeding fowle ensue:
No force to me, thou wert my Bird,
But (Fawlcon) now adue.