Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
| 21 |  |
| 13 | | I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| 1 | V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| 1 | XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| 1 | XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| 1 | LIII. |
| 1 | LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| 1 | LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| 2 | LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| 1 | LXXXII. |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXXIV. |
| LXXXV. |
| LXXXVI. |
| LXXXVII. |
| LXXXVIII. |
| LXXXIX. |
| XC. |
| XCI. |
| XCII. |
| XCIII. |
| XCIV. |
| XCV. |
| XCVI. |
| XCVII. |
| 3 | XCVIII. |
| XCIX. |
| C. |
| 1 | CI. |
| CII. |
| CIII. |
| CIV. |
| II. |
| CV. |
| CVI. |
| CVII. |
| 4 | | III. |
| 4 | | CVIII. |
| 1 |
| 1 |
| 2 |
| IV. |
| CIX. |
| CX. |
| CXI. |
| CXII. |
| CXIII. |
| CXIV. |
| CXV. |
| CXVI. |
| CXVII. |
| CXVIII. |
| CXIX. |
| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
| CXXII. |
| CXXIII. |
| CXXIV. |
| CXXV. |
| CXXVI. |
| CXXVII. |
| CXXVIII. |
| CXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
| CXXXII. |
| CXXXIII. |
| CXXXIV. |
| CXXXV. |
| CXXXVI. |
| CXXXVII. |
| CXXXVIII. |
| CXXXIX. |
| CXL. |
| CXLI. |
| CXLII. |
| CXLIII. |
| CXLIV. |
| CXLV. |
| CXLVI. |
| CXLVII. |
| CXLVIII. |
| CXLIX. |
| CL. |
| CLI. |
| CLII. |
| CLIII. |
| CLIV. |
| CLV. |
| CLVI. |
| CLVII. |
| CLVIII. |
| CLIX. |
| CLX. |
| CLXI. |
| CLXII. |
| CLXIII. |
| CLXIV. |
| CLXV. |
| CLXVI. |
| CLXVII. |
| CLXVIII. |
| CLXIX. |
| CLXX. |
| CLXXI. |
| CLXXII. |
| CLXXIII. |
| CLXXIV. |
| CLXXV. |
| CLXXVI. |
| CLXXVII. |
| 2 | | V. |
| CLXXVIII. |
| CLXXIX. |
| 1 | CLXXX. |
| CLXXXI. |
| CLXXXII. |
| CLXXXIII. |
| CLXXXIV. |
| CLXXXV. |
| CLXXXVI. |
| CLXXXVII. |
| CLXXXVIII. |
| CLXXXIX. |
| CXC. |
| CXCI. |
| CXCII. |
| CXCIII. |
| CXCIV. |
| CXCV. |
| CXCVI. |
| CXCVII. |
| CXCVIII. |
| CXCIX. |
| CC. |
| CCI. |
| CCII. |
| CCIII. |
| CCIV. |
| CCV. |
| CCVI. |
| CCVII. |
| CCVIII. |
| 1 | CCIX. |
| CCX. |
| CCXI. |
| CCXII. |
| CCXIII. |
| CCXIV. |
| CCXV. |
| CCXVI. |
| CCXVII. |
| CCXVIII. |
| CCXIX. |
| CCXX. |
| CCXXI. |
| CCXXII. | CCXXII
|
| CCXXIII. |
| CCXXIV. |
| CCXXV. |
| CCXXVI. |
| CCXXVII. |
| CCXXVIII. |
| CCXXIX. |
| CCXXX. |
| CCXXXI. |
| CCXXXII. |
| CCXXXIII. |
| VI. |
| CCXXXIV. |
| CCXXXV. |
| CCXXXVI. |
| CCXXXVII. |
| CCXXXVIII. |
| CCXXXIX. |
| CCXL. |
| 2 | | VII. |
| CCXLI. |
| CCXLII. |
| 2 | CCXLIII. |
| CCXLIV. |
| CCXLV. |
| CCXLVI. |
| VIII. |
| CCXLVII. |
| CCXLVIII. |
| CCXLIX. |
| CCL. |
| CCLI. |
| CCLII. |
| CCLIII. |
| CCLIV. |
| CCLV. |
| CCLVI. |
| CCLVII. |
| CCLVIII. |
| CCLIX. |
| CCLX. |
| CCLXI. |
| IX. |
| CCLXII. |
| CCLXIII. |
| CCLXIV. |
| CCLXV. |
| CCLXVI. |
| CCLXVII. |
| CCLXVIII. |
 | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt |  |
CCXXII
[Greting to you bothe yn hertye wyse]
Greting to you bothe yn hertye wyse
As vnknowen I sende, and this mye entente
As I do here, you to aduertyse,
Lest that perchaunce your deades you do repente.
The unknowen man dredes not to be shente,
But sayes as he thinckes: so fares yt bye me
That nother ffere nor hope in no degree.
As vnknowen I sende, and this mye entente
As I do here, you to aduertyse,
Lest that perchaunce your deades you do repente.
The unknowen man dredes not to be shente,
But sayes as he thinckes: so fares yt bye me
That nother ffere nor hope in no degree.
226
The bodye and the sowle to holde togiddre,
Yt is but right and resone woll the same,
And ffryndelie the one to love the other
Yt incresith your brute and also your fame.
But marke well my wordes, for I fere no blame:
Truste well your selves but ware ye trust no mo,
For such as ye think your frinde maye fortune be your ffoe.
Yt is but right and resone woll the same,
And ffryndelie the one to love the other
Yt incresith your brute and also your fame.
But marke well my wordes, for I fere no blame:
Truste well your selves but ware ye trust no mo,
For such as ye think your frinde maye fortune be your ffoe.
Beware hardelye ere ye have enye nede,
And to frindes reconsilide trust not greatelye;
Ffor theye that ons with hasty spede
Exilid them selves out of your companye,
Though theye torne againe and speke swetlye,
Fayning them selves to be your frindes faste,
Beware of them for theye will disseyeve you at laste.
And to frindes reconsilide trust not greatelye;
Ffor theye that ons with hasty spede
Exilid them selves out of your companye,
Though theye torne againe and speke swetlye,
Fayning them selves to be your frindes faste,
Beware of them for theye will disseyeve you at laste.
Fayre wordes makis ffoolys fayne,
And bering in hande causith moche woo,
For tyme tryeth trothe, therefore refrayne:
And from suche as be redye to doo—
None doo I name but this I kno,
That bye this faute cause causith moche,
Therefore beware if ye do kno anye suche.
And bering in hande causith moche woo,
For tyme tryeth trothe, therefore refrayne:
And from suche as be redye to doo—
None doo I name but this I kno,
That bye this faute cause causith moche,
Therefore beware if ye do kno anye suche.
‘To wise folkes fewe wordes’ is an old sayeng;
Therefore at this tyme I will write nomore,
But this short lesson take fore a warninge:
Bye soche light frindes sett littill store;
Yf ye do othere wise ye will repent yt sore.
And thus of this lettre making an ende,
To the boddye and sowle I me commend.
Therefore at this tyme I will write nomore,
But this short lesson take fore a warninge:
Bye soche light frindes sett littill store;
Yf ye do othere wise ye will repent yt sore.
And thus of this lettre making an ende,
To the boddye and sowle I me commend.
Wryting lyfles at the manner place
Of him that hathe no chave nore no were dothe dwell,
But wandering in the wilde worlde, wanting that he hase,
And nother hopis nor ffearis heven nor hell;
But lyvith at adventure, ye kno him full well,
The twentie daye of marche he wrote yt yn his house,
And hathe him recommendyd to the kat and the mowse.
Of him that hathe no chave nore no were dothe dwell,
But wandering in the wilde worlde, wanting that he hase,
And nother hopis nor ffearis heven nor hell;
But lyvith at adventure, ye kno him full well,
The twentie daye of marche he wrote yt yn his house,
And hathe him recommendyd to the kat and the mowse.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |