A Revocation
WHAT should I say? Since Faith is dead, And Truth away From you is fled? Should I be led With doubleness? Nay! nay! mistress. I promised you, And you promised me, To be as
They Flee From Me
They flee from me that sometime did me seek With naked foot, stalking in my chamber. I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek, That now are wild and do not remember That sometime
In Spain
Tagus, farewell! that westward with thy streams Turns up the grains of gold already tried With spur and sail, for I go to seek the Thames Gainward the sun that shewth her wealthy pride,
My Galley, Charged with Forgetfulness
My galley, chargèd with forgetfulness, Thorough sharp seas in winter nights doth pass ‘Tween rock and rock; and eke mine en’my, alas, That is my lord, steereth with cruelness; And every owre a thought
Since so Ye Please
Since so ye please to hear me plain, And that ye do rejoice my smart, Me list no lenger to remain To such as be so overthwart. But cursed be that cruel heart Which
Avising The Bright Beams
Avising the bright beams of these fair eyes Where he is that mine oft moisteth and washeth, The wearied mind straight from the heart departeth For to rest in his worldly paradise And find
Of the Mean and Sure Estate
My mother’s maids, when they did sew and spin, They sang sometime a song of the field mouse, That, for because her livelood was but thin, Would needs go seek her townish sister’s house.
Alas Madam for Stealing of a Kiss
Alas, madam, for stealing of a kiss Have I so much your mind there offended? Have I then done so grievously amiss That by no means it may be amended? Then revenge you, and
My Lute Awake
My lute awake! perform the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And end that I have now begun; For when this song is sung and past, My lute be still, for I
Ye Old Mule
Ye old mule that think yourself so fair, Leave off with craft your beauty to repair, For it is true, without any fable, No man setteth more by riding in your saddle. Too much
Whoso List to Hunt
Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, helas! I may no more. The vain travail hath worried me so sore, I am of them that furthest come
What Needeth These Threat'ning Words
What needeth these threnning words and wasted wind? All this cannot make me restore my prey. To rob your good, iwis, is not my mind, Nor causeless your fair hand did I display. Let