Let not the world beleive: the accuising of my fate
It tendis to alluirit to condole with me my tragicke state
Nor that I haue sent furthe: these stormie teeris of rage
So by disburding of my breast: my sorrowes to assuage
No no that serues for noucht: I craue no suche releef
Nor will I zeild that any sould: be partiners of my greef
My fantassie to feid: I onlie spend thois teares
My plaintes playes me no musick sound's: so sweetlie in my eares
I wish that from my birth: I had acquanted beine
Still with mishap's and never had: but noyes and horrours seine
Then ignoraunte of Joyes! Lamenting as I doe
As thinking all menn did the Lyke: I micht content me to
But ohe my fate was worse: for it is in ane glas
Schow me throw Lytle blenks of bles: the state quherein I was
Quhich wnperfyted Joyes: scairce constante for ane hour
Was Lyke but to ane wateriesoonne: that schynes befoir a schour
ffor giue I euer thoucht: or rather dreem'd of Joyes
That Lytle Lichtning but foirshewde: a thunder of annoyes
It was but Lyke the fruite: that tantalus tormentes
Quhich whill hee sies and not attanes: his hunger but augments
ffor sua the shaddow of: that but Imaginit mirth
Cald all the crosses to recoirde I suffered since my birth
Quhich are to be bewaill'd: but hard to be redresst
Quhois strange effect's may weill be felt: but cannot be exprest
Judge what the feelling was: whenn thinking on thinges past
I trimble at the torment zit: and stande ane tyme agast
Zit doe I noucht repent: but will with patience pyne
ffor thoucht I murne I murmure not: Lyke men that doe repyne
I grante I waile my Lote: zit I approve her will
Quhat my suill oracle thinkes gude: I never sall think ill
Giue I had onlie sought: ane salue to ease my paines
Long since I hade bewailled my Lote: alongst the illisian planes
Zit mynde I noucht in this: selff Louer Lyke to dyee
As ane that cair't not for her Lois: so I my self wer free
No may ten night's annoyes: mak her ane nicht secuire
Ane day of dolour's vnto her: ane momentes mirth procure
Ore may ane zeeres Lament's: rejoyce her half ane hour
May seavin zeir's sorrow's mak her sade: I sall not think them sour
And gif shee doeth delychte: to heere of my deseeis
Thenn O bleast I quho soe may haue: the occasioun her to pleas
ffor now the caus I liue: is noucht for lufe of Lyfe
But onlie for to honour her: that holds me still in stryfe
And ore these vowes I mak: doe vnperformit escaipt
This world sall anes agane renverst: resoome her shaples shape
But what: what haue I vowed my passiones wer too strong
As giue the myldest of the world delighted to doe wrong
As schee quhom I adoire: with so devoite ane mynde
Could rest content to see me sterve: be glade to see my pynde
No no schee wailles my state: and wald appays my caires
Zet interdytit to the faites: confirmes her will to theris
Thenn O vnhappie man: whom evin thyne sanct wold saue
And zit thy crewell destanie; doeth damne the to thy grave
This sentence thenn may serve: for to confound my fear's
Quhy brust I not my breist with sighis: and droune my eyes with teirs
Ohe I haif murnit so muche: that I may murne no moir
My miseries pas numbring now: plaintes perisch in their stoir
The meanes to vnloade my breast: does quyte begin to faill
ffor being drunk with too much doole: I wate not how to waill
And sinco I wante ane way: my anguishe to reveell
Of force contented with my faite: I'le suffer and conceell
And for to wishe the world: evin as my Loue wish'd me
I vse ane countenance Lyke to one, quhois mynde from greif wer free
ffor quhenn shoe did disdaine: shee schew'd ane smylling face
Evin quhen that schoe denunc'd my death: schee sem'd to promieis grace
So sall I seeme in shaw: my thoughtes for to repois
Zit in the centure of my saull: sall shrow'd a world of woes
Thenn wofull breast and eyes: zour restles cours controule
And with na outward signes betraye: the anguishe of my soule
Eyes rayne zour shoures within: arrouze the eirth no moir
Pas doune with a deludge of tear's: the breast ze burnd befoir
Breast arme zour seelf with sigh's, giue ou'r waike to defend
Then perishe by zour proper fyres: and mak ane honest and
It tendis to alluirit to condole with me my tragicke state
Nor that I haue sent furthe: these stormie teeris of rage
So by disburding of my breast: my sorrowes to assuage
No no that serues for noucht: I craue no suche releef
Nor will I zeild that any sould: be partiners of my greef
My fantassie to feid: I onlie spend thois teares
My plaintes playes me no musick sound's: so sweetlie in my eares
I wish that from my birth: I had acquanted beine
Still with mishap's and never had: but noyes and horrours seine
Then ignoraunte of Joyes! Lamenting as I doe
As thinking all menn did the Lyke: I micht content me to
But ohe my fate was worse: for it is in ane glas
Schow me throw Lytle blenks of bles: the state quherein I was
Quhich wnperfyted Joyes: scairce constante for ane hour
Was Lyke but to ane wateriesoonne: that schynes befoir a schour
ffor giue I euer thoucht: or rather dreem'd of Joyes
That Lytle Lichtning but foirshewde: a thunder of annoyes
It was but Lyke the fruite: that tantalus tormentes
Quhich whill hee sies and not attanes: his hunger but augments
ffor sua the shaddow of: that but Imaginit mirth
Cald all the crosses to recoirde I suffered since my birth
Quhich are to be bewaill'd: but hard to be redresst
Quhois strange effect's may weill be felt: but cannot be exprest
Judge what the feelling was: whenn thinking on thinges past
I trimble at the torment zit: and stande ane tyme agast
Zit doe I noucht repent: but will with patience pyne
ffor thoucht I murne I murmure not: Lyke men that doe repyne
I grante I waile my Lote: zit I approve her will
Quhat my suill oracle thinkes gude: I never sall think ill
Giue I had onlie sought: ane salue to ease my paines
Long since I hade bewailled my Lote: alongst the illisian planes
Zit mynde I noucht in this: selff Louer Lyke to dyee
As ane that cair't not for her Lois: so I my self wer free
No may ten night's annoyes: mak her ane nicht secuire
Ane day of dolour's vnto her: ane momentes mirth procure
Ore may ane zeeres Lament's: rejoyce her half ane hour
May seavin zeir's sorrow's mak her sade: I sall not think them sour
And gif shee doeth delychte: to heere of my deseeis
Thenn O bleast I quho soe may haue: the occasioun her to pleas
ffor now the caus I liue: is noucht for lufe of Lyfe
But onlie for to honour her: that holds me still in stryfe
And ore these vowes I mak: doe vnperformit escaipt
This world sall anes agane renverst: resoome her shaples shape
But what: what haue I vowed my passiones wer too strong
As giue the myldest of the world delighted to doe wrong
As schee quhom I adoire: with so devoite ane mynde
Could rest content to see me sterve: be glade to see my pynde
No no schee wailles my state: and wald appays my caires
Zet interdytit to the faites: confirmes her will to theris
Thenn O vnhappie man: whom evin thyne sanct wold saue
And zit thy crewell destanie; doeth damne the to thy grave
This sentence thenn may serve: for to confound my fear's
Quhy brust I not my breist with sighis: and droune my eyes with teirs
Ohe I haif murnit so muche: that I may murne no moir
My miseries pas numbring now: plaintes perisch in their stoir
The meanes to vnloade my breast: does quyte begin to faill
ffor being drunk with too much doole: I wate not how to waill
And sinco I wante ane way: my anguishe to reveell
Of force contented with my faite: I'le suffer and conceell
And for to wishe the world: evin as my Loue wish'd me
I vse ane countenance Lyke to one, quhois mynde from greif wer free
ffor quhenn shoe did disdaine: shee schew'd ane smylling face
Evin quhen that schoe denunc'd my death: schee sem'd to promieis grace
So sall I seeme in shaw: my thoughtes for to repois
Zit in the centure of my saull: sall shrow'd a world of woes
Thenn wofull breast and eyes: zour restles cours controule
And with na outward signes betraye: the anguishe of my soule
Eyes rayne zour shoures within: arrouze the eirth no moir
Pas doune with a deludge of tear's: the breast ze burnd befoir
Breast arme zour seelf with sigh's, giue ou'r waike to defend
Then perishe by zour proper fyres: and mak ane honest and