Yet will I nill I thou to practise it.
I greeue I cannot hinder this intent,
But if (in fine) perforce vnto my paine
thou wilt loue me, perforce I must consent.
If that from being lou’d, I could remaine,
(As from all loue) in faith I neuer would
Haue left it to thy choosing to abstaine.
For he that lou’d me with such rigour should
Be punish’t, that he should haue thence no soule
To loue me, if his loue preuent I could.
But Ile doe that which no man shall controule,
Which is that none presume to manifest
His loue to me so wanton and so bolde.
Let therefore punishment thy minde suggest,
To mooue this fancie from thy idle minde,
A fancie first conceiu’d within thy brest,
Of no good ground where hope thou canst not finde:
Hope is exil’d where honour taketh place;
Honour is deere to women of my kinde:
Virgins I meane, and liuing in the face
Of all the world with honour and renowne.
Which if it be but staind, each other grace
She hath, with no recou’rie falleth downe.
If then these few perswasions cannot make
Thee change thy minde, nor now this present frowne,
Nor trembling hands, which now for anger shake
By writing of these lines with little rest,
Nor feare of punishment make thee forsake
This fond conceit nurc’d vainly in thy brest,
When thou maist neuer hope to haue a day;
Then let mine honour mooue thee (at the lest)
To make thee hide this fier (if you may)
Wherewith thou saist thy brest is so inflam’d:
Marke this, and let thy wits not so estray.
If that thou saist, that hardly is reclam’d
The fire of loue, and hardly hid againe;
To tell it Palna lesse thou shalt be blam’d.
But since thy hope incertaine is and vaine,
And all thy harmes most sure, then ope the dore
(To helpe thee) to obliuion and disdaine.
And thus I end in hope to heare no more.