A Posie of Gilloflowers :: :: University of Virginia Library

Like as a forte or fenced towne,
By foes assault that lies in field,
When Bulwarkes all are beaten downe,
Is by perforce constraynde to yeelde,
So I that could no while withstand,
The battery of your pleasant loue,
The flagge of truce tooke in my hande,
And meant your mercy for to proue.
My foolish fancie did enforce,
Me first to like your friendly sute,
Whiles your demaunds bred such remorce,
That I coulde not the same refute.
I bad you take with free consent,
All that which true pretence might craue,
And you remaynde as one content,
The thing obtaynd that you would haue.
Such friendly lookes and countenance fayre,
You freely then to me profest.

As if all troth that euer were,
Had harboured beene within your brest.
And I which saw such perfect shewes,
Of fraudlesse fayth in you appeare.
Did yeelde my selfe to Cupids Lawes,
And shewde likewise a merrie cheere.
No louing toyes I did withholde,
And no suspect did make me doubt.
Til your demeanure did vnfolde,
The wilie traines ye went about.
Who sees a ruinous house to fall,
And will not shift to get him thence.
When limmes be crusht, and broken all.
Its then too late to make defence.
When pleasant baite is swallowed downe.
The hooked fish is sure to die,
On these Dame Fortune oft doe frowne,
As trust too farre before they trie.
Of had I wist, who makes his moane,
Its ten to one he neuer thriues,
When theeues are from the Gibbet throwne,
No pardon then can saue theyr liues.
Such good aduice as comes too late,
May wel be calde, Sir fore wits foole:
Elswhere goe play the cosoning mate,
I am not now to goe to schoole.
But cleerely doe at length discerne,
The marke to which your bow is bent,
And these examples shall me warne,
What harme they haue that late repent.
Your sugred speech was but a baite,
Wherwith to bleare my simple eyes,
And vnder them did lurke deceipt,
As poyson vnder hony lies.
Wherefore since now your drift is knowne,
Goe set your staule some other where:

I may not so be ouerthrowne,
Your double dealings make me feare.
When steede by theeues is stolne away,
I wil not then the doore locke fast,
Wherfore depart without delay,
Your words are winde; your sute is wast.
And this shalbe the finall doome,
That I to your request will giue,
Your loue in me shall haue no roome,
Whiles life and breath shal make me liue,