1584.
¶And sith thou canst no man intice,
That he should stil loue thee alone:
Thy beautie now hath lost her price,
I see thy sauorie s[c]ent is gone.
¶Therefore leaue off thy wonted plaie,
But, as thou art, thou wilt appeare,
Ynlesse thou canst deuise a waie,
To dark the Sun that shines so cleare.
¶And keep thy friend that thou hast won,
In trueth to him thy loue supplie,
Least he at length as I haue done,
Take off thy Belles and let thee flie.
A Sonet of two faithfull Louers, exhorting one another to be constant.
To the tune of Kypascie.
He famous Prince of Macedon,
whose wars increst his worthy name
Triumphed not so, when he had won
By conquest great, immortall fame,
As I reioice, reioice,
For thee, my choice, with heart and voice,
Since thou art mine,
Whom, long to loue, the Gods assigne.
¶The secret flames of this my loue,
The stars had wrought ere I was borne,
Whose sugred force my hart doth moue,
And eke my will so sure hath sworne.
that Fortunes lore, no more,
though I therefore, did life abhor[r]e:
Shall neuer make,
Forgetful dewes my heat to slake.
