Since that I cannot (Shepherdesse)
With things in earnest please thy vaine,
I will content thee (at the lest)
FroÌ„ hence with toies (though to my pain)
To thee they are but things in iest
(For so thou mean’st to take them all)
But euer to my painfull brest
True they haue proou’d, and so they shall.
Mocke me thy fill, since thou dost make
It all thy glee, thy sport, and laughter:
But I doe wish, that Loue may take
A narrow count of thee heereafter.
I once did also iest with loue,
Loue did I scoffe, and loue despise,
But to my paine I now doe proue
What did thereof to me arise.
And this is that poore silly mee
This wicked traitor brought vnto;
But woe is me, that now with thee
I knowe not what he meanes to do.
With iestes and sports of thousand fashions
Two thousand fauors thou didst lend me,
But yet the God of loue, to passions
In earnest turnes them, to offend me.
With thine owne hand (O what a thing)
In iesting didst thou carue to me?
In iest thou saidst, and sometimes sing,
Mine onely Shepherd thoushalt be.
O sweetest foode of sauourie tast,
Of force my poore lafe to maintaine:
Sweet words, whose sound did bind me fast,
Of force to giue me rest againe.
Both word, and deede, and what did passe
(Though but a merry iest it were yet)
So singular a grace it was,
That in my brest I cannot beare it.
To sickest men, to giue great store
Of meate, and so much as they craue,
It is not good, but iust no more,
Then it is meete for them to haue.
Fauours I craue by heapes of thee,
That thou wouldst giue me (Shepherâˆ£desse)
But yet (perhaps) they may kill me,
For little force I doe possesse.
It hurts the driest field and meade,
As much to cast in them great plentie
Of water, as if they lay deade,
Of water, and of moisture emptie.
So fauours in the selfesame sort,
If that they haue no rule, nor measure,
Suffice to make ones life more short,
As wel as scornes, hates, and displeasure.
But in the end, and howsoeuer,
Take thy full ioy, although I die.
Whether it be with death for euer,
Or with my life, I care not I.
Mocke, and with me doe what thou list,
And happen will, what happen may,
My will thy will shall not resist,
But thy commaund shall still obay,
Commaund me then to be thy loue,
Commaund me in thy loue to end,
And he that rules, and is aboue
All harts, commaund thy hart to bend.
Since mightie Loue commaunds my hart,
Of force thy louer I must bee,
Ioine thou with loue, and take his part,
Then all the world shall honour thee.
But I haue written to be plaine
Enough, since thou hast not thy fill
By giuing me continuall paine,
Desiring yet to serue thee still.
But in the end now will I cease,
Although my torment doth not end:
Desire is conquerd by the feare
I haue, thy patience to offend.