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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. LVII.
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CANT. LVII.

H. W.
If then the welspring of my ioy,
A floud of woe, in fine become,
If loue ingender loues annoy,
Then farewell life, my glasse is runne:
If you thus constant still remaine;
Then must I die, or liue in paine.
Thrice happie they, whose ioyned harts,
Vnited wils haue linckt in one,
Whose eies discerne the due desarts,
The griping griefe, and grieuous grone,
That faith doth breed in setled mind,
As fancies are by fates inclind.

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And shall I role the restlesse stone?
And must I proue the endlesse paine?
In curelesse care shall I alone,
Consume with griefe, that yeelds me gaine?
If so I curse these eies of mine,
That first beheld that face of thine.
Your will must with my woe dispence,
Your face the founder of my smart,
That pleasant looke fram'd this offence,
These thrilling gripes that gall my hart,
Sith you this wound, and hurt did giue,
You must consent to yeeld relieue.
How can I cease, while fancie guides
The restlesse raines of my desire?
Can reason rule, where folly bides?
Can wit inthrald to will retire?
I little thought, I should haue mist,
I neuer feard of, Had I wist.
Let old men pray, let setled heads
Inthrall their necks to wedlocke band,
Shrend golden gyues, who euer weds
With pleasant paine, shall take in hand:
But I will be your faithful frend,
If health by hope you yeeld to send.