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Sir Thomas Wyatt
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Sir Thomas Wyatt
(1503–42)
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A
Alas, madame, for stelyng of a kysse
B
Behold, love, thy power how she dispiseth
Blame not my lute for he must sownd
C
Caesar, when that the traytour of Egipt
F
Farewell, Love, and all thy lawes for ever
G
Goo, burnyng sighes, Vnto the frosen hert
H
Helpe me to seke for I lost it there
I
I fynde no peace and all my warr is done
M
Madame, withouten many wordes
My galy charged with forgetfulnes
My hert I gave the, not to do it payn
My lute, awake! perfourme the last
O
Ons as me thought fortune me kyst
S
Som fowles there be that have so perfaict sight
Some tyme I fled the fyre that me brent
Syghes ar my foode, drynke are my teares
T
The longe love that in my thought doeth harbar
They fle from me that sometyme did me seke
Thou hast no faith of him that hath none
Through out the world, if it wer sought
W
Was I never yet of your love greeved
What menythe thys when I lye alone?
What no, perdy, ye may be sure!
What vaileth trouth or by it to take payn
When first mine eyes did view, and marke
Who so list to hounte, I know where is an hynde
Y
Ye old mule that think your self so fayre
Yf amourous faith, an hert vnfayned
Yf it be so that I forsake the