Was I never yet of your love grieved Nor never shall while that my life doth last. But of hating myself that date is past, And tears continual sore have me wearied. I will not yet in my grace be buried Nor on my tomb your name yfixed fast As cruel cause that did the spirit soon haste From th' unhappy bones by great sighs stirred. Then if an heart of amorous faith and will May content you without doing grief, Please it you so to this do relief. If otherwise ye seek for to fulfil Your disdain, ye err and shall not as ye ween, And ye yourself the cause thereof hath been. |