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Willobie His Avisa

Or The true Picture of a modest Maid, and of a chast and constant wife. In Hexamiter verse. The like argument wherof, was neuer heretofore published [by Henry Willoby]
  

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CANT. XXIIII.
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CANT. XXIIII.

AVISA.
Your fierie flame, your secret smart,
That inward frets with pining griefe,
Your hollow sighes, your heuie hart,
Me thinks might quickly find reliefe,
If once the certaine cause were knowne,
From whence these hard effects haue growne.
It little boots to shew your sore,
To her that wants all Phisicke skill,
But tell it them, that haue in store,
Such oyles as creeping cankers kill,
I would be glad, to doe my best,
If I had skill, to giue you rest.
Take heede, let not your griefe remaine,
Till helpes doe faile, and hope be past,
For such as first refus'd some paine,
A double paine haue felt at last,
A little sparke, not quencht be time,
To hideous flames will quickly clime.
If godly sorrow for your sin,
Be chiefest cause, why you lament,
If giltie conscience doe begin,
To draw you truely to repent,
A ioyfull end must needs redound,
To happie griefe so seldome found.


To striue all wicked lusts to quell,
Which often sort to dolefull end,
I ioye to heare you meane so well,
And what you want, the Lord will send:
But if you yeeld to wanton will,
God will depart, and leaue you still.
Your pleasant aide with sweete supply,
My present state, that might amend,
If honest loue be ment thereby,
I shall be glad of such a frend,
But if you loue, as I suspect,
Your loue and you, I both reiect.