Newe Sonets and pretie Pamphlets. Written by Thomas Howell. Newly augmented, corrected and amended |
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The Lamentation of the vvofull man, hauinge for entire Loue no goodvvyll.
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 | Newe Sonets |  |
The Lamentation of the vvofull man, hauinge for entire Loue no goodvvyll.
The
time that I began, to enter first to life,
Woulde God the sisters three had cut the threade with fatale knife
Wolde God that death had been, with arowes readie bente,
To pearce the wofull harte of mine, whiche now with care is spente.
Woulde God the sisters three had cut the threade with fatale knife
Wolde God that death had been, with arowes readie bente,
To pearce the wofull harte of mine, whiche now with care is spente.
Then should I not at all, haue folowed fancies lewre,
Whose outwarde showe of suger sweet, is mixt with poyson sowre:
As now I am constrainde, by destnie sure I thinke,
That still doth finde but bitter tast, yet cannot choose but drinke.
Whose outwarde showe of suger sweet, is mixt with poyson sowre:
As now I am constrainde, by destnie sure I thinke,
That still doth finde but bitter tast, yet cannot choose but drinke.
Thus I God knowes full oft a heauie harte do beare,
When outwardly I seeme to shew a mery carelesse cheare,
Desembling eke my case, in hope of happier day,
But aye from time to time I finde nought els but my decay.
When outwardly I seeme to shew a mery carelesse cheare,
Desembling eke my case, in hope of happier day,
But aye from time to time I finde nought els but my decay.
I pine in secret flames, like waxe consumde with fyre,
I wishe, but alwaies wante my will, lo this mine only hier:
What Paps did geue hir foode, that nought regardes my wo?
What Tiger fearce alas coulde hate, the harte that loued hir so.
I wishe, but alwaies wante my will, lo this mine only hier:
What Paps did geue hir foode, that nought regardes my wo?
What Tiger fearce alas coulde hate, the harte that loued hir so.
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Great crueltie it is, to slay the yeelding wight,
That mercy stil doth sue to haue, and vseth none other fight:
But sith my haplesse hap alas must needes be so,
With speede come death to ende my life, and ridde me of this wo.
That mercy stil doth sue to haue, and vseth none other fight:
But sith my haplesse hap alas must needes be so,
With speede come death to ende my life, and ridde me of this wo.
Finis.
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