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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. XXXI,
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CANT. XXXI,

D. B. To AVISA more pittie.

There is a cole that burnes the more,

Canol cole found in many places of England.


The more ye cast colde water neare,
Like humor feedes my secret sore,
Not quencht, but fed by cold dispaire,
The more I feele, that you disdaine,
The faster doth my loue remaine.
In grace they find a burning soile,

By the Ionian Sea there is a place that burnes continually, and the more water is cast into it, the more it flames.


That fumes in nature like the same,
Colde water makes the hotter broyle,
The greater frost, the greater flame,
So frames it with my loue or lost,
That fiercely fries amidst the frost.
My hart inflam'd with quenchlesse heate,
Doth fretting fume in secret fire,
These hellish torments are the meate,
That dayly feede this vaine desire;
Thus shall I grone in gastly griefe,
Till you by mercy send reliefe.


You first inflam'd my brimstone thought,
Your faining fauour witcht mine eye,
O lucklesse eye, that thus hast brought,
Thy masters hart to striue awrye,
Now blame your selfe, if I offend,
The hurt you made, you must amend.
With these my lines I sent a Ring,
Least you might thinke you were forgot,
The posie meanes a pretie thing,
That bids you, Do but dally not,
Do so sweete hart, and doe not stay,
For daungers grow from sound delay.
Fiue winters Frosts haue say'd to quell
These flaming fits of firme desire,
Fiue Sommers sunnes can not expell
The cold dispaire, that feeds the fire,
This time I hope, my truth doth trie,
Now yeeld in time, or else I die.
Dudum beatus, D. B.