Was I never yet of your love greeved
Nor never shall while that my liff doeth last:
But of hating myself that date is past,
And teeres continuell sore have me weried.
I will not yet in my grave be buried
Nor on my tombe your name yfixed fast
As cruell cause that did the sperit sone hast
From th’unhappy bonys, by great sighes sterred.
Then if an hert of amourous faith and will
May content you withoute doyng greiff,
Please it you so to this to doo releiff:
Yf othre wise ye seke for to fulfill
Your disdain, ye erre and shall not as ye wene,
And ye yourself the cause therof hath bene.