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hath his cave,


The little bird his nest,
From heat and cold themselves to save,

At all times as they list.

The owl, with feeble sight,

Lies lurking in the leaves ; The sparrow,

in the frosty night, May shroud her in the eaves.

But, woe to me, alas !

In sun, nor yet in shade,
I cannot find a resting-place

My burthen to unlade.

The Lover, that once disdained love, is now become

subject, being caught in his snare. [The couplet printed in italics, is said to have been written

by Queen Mary, on a window of Fotheringay Castle.)

To this my song give ear who list,

And mine intent judge as you will; The time is come that I have miss'd

The thing whereon I hoped still ; And, from the top of all my trust Mishap hath thrown me in the dust,

The time hath been, and that of late,

My heart and I might leap at large,
And was not shut within the gate

Of love's desire, nor took no charge
Of any thing that did pertain
As touching love, in any pain.

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My thought was free, my heart was light,

I marked not who lost, who saught, I plaid by day, I slept by night,

I forced not who wept, who laught; My thought from all such things was free, And I myself at liberty.

I took no heed to taunts nor toys,

As lief to see them frown as smile; Where fortune laugh'd I scorn'd their joys,

I found their frauds, and every wile;
And to myself ofttimes I smiled,
To see how love had them beguiled.

Thus, in the net of my conceit,

I masked still among the sort Of such as fed


the bait,
That Cupid laid for his disport;
And ever, as I saw them caught,
I them beheld and thereat laught.

• Perhaps saved, or won.

Till at the end, when Cupid spied

My scornful will, and spiteful use,
And how I past not who was tied,

So that myself might still live loose ;
He set himself to lie in wait,
And in my way he threw a bait.

Such one as Nature never made,

I dare well say, save her alone; Such one she was as would invade

A heart more hard than marble stone; Such one she is, I know it right, Her Nature made to shew her might.

Then, as a man even in a maze,

When use of reason is away,
So I began to stare and gaze;

And suddenly, without delay,
Ere ever I had the wit to look,
I swallow'd up both bait and hook.

Which daily grieves me more and more,

By sundry sorts of careful woe, And none alive may salve the sore,

But only she that hurt me so; In whom


life doth now consist To save or slay me as she list.

But seeing now that I am caught,

And bound so fast I cannot flee;
Be ye by mine ensample taught,
That in your

fancies feel

you Despise not them that lovers are, Lest you be caught within his snare.


The Lover not regarded in earnest suit, being become

wiser, refuseth his proffered love.

[Abridged from 35 lines.]

Do 'way your physick, I faint no more ;

The salve you sent, it comes too late ;
You wist well all my grief before,

And what I suffer'd for your sake;
Whole is my heart, I plain no more,

A new the cure did undertake,
Wherefore do 'way, you come too late.

For whiles


knew I was your own,
So long in vain you made me gape,
And though my faith it were well known,

Yet small regard you took thereat.
But, now the blast is over-blown,

Of vaine physick a salve you shape,
Wherefore do 'way, you come too late.

How long, ere this, have I been fain

for mercy at your gate,
Until the time I spied it plain

That pity and you fell at debate.
For my redress then was I fain

Your service clean for to forsake :
Wherefore do 'way, you come too late.

Harpalus' complaint of Phillida's love bestowed on

Corin, who loved her not, and denied him that loved her.

[Abridged from 104 lines.]

PHILLIDA was a fair maid,

As fresh as any flower ;
Whom Harpalus the herdman pray'd

To be his paramour.

Harpalus, and eke Corín,

Were herdmen both yfere;'
And Phillida could twist and spin,

And thereto sing full clear.

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