IDA

I count of Court my Lord, as wise men do, 'Tis fit for those that knows what longs thereto: Each person to his place, the wise to Art, The Cobbler to his clout, the Swain to Cart. If beauty (as I know there's none in me) Were sworn my love, and I his life should be: The farther from the Court I were removed, The more I think of heaven I were beloved. Because the Court is counted Venus net, Where gifts and vows for stales are often set, None, be she chaste as Vesta, but shall meet A curious tongue to charm her ears with sweet. In sooth this is my thought most gracious king, That they that little prove Are much blessed, from bitter sweets of love: And weel I wot, I herd a shepherd sing, That Like a Be, Love hath a little sting: He lurks in flowers, he percheth on the trees, He on Kings pillows, bends his pretty knees: The Boy is blind, but when he will not spy, He hath a leaden foot, and wings to fly: Beshrew me yet, for all these strange effects, If I would Like the Lad, that so infects. And why dread King? What then? And were Apollo moved and ruled by me, His wisdom should be yours, and mine his tree. Not in delights, or pomp, or majesty. Since these are means to draw the mind From perfect good, and make true judgement blind. Yet would I (might I choose) be honest poor. For she that sits at Fortune's feet allow Is sure she shall not taste a further woe. But those that prank one top of Fortune's ball Still fear a change: and fearing catch a fallen. Good reason ̄ why, they know not good indeed. Yes they that virtue deem and honest dowry. Madame, by right this world I may compare, Unto my work, wherein with heedful care, The heavenly workman plants with curious hand, As I with needle draw each thing one land, Even as he list, some men Like to the Rose, Are fashioned fresh, some in their stalks do close, And born do sudden die: some are but weeds, And yet from them a secret good proceeds: I with my needle if I please may blot, The fairest rose within my cambricke plot, God with a beck can change each worldly thing, The poor to earth, the beggar to the king. What then hath man, wherein he well may boast, Since by a beck he lives, a lover is lost? As much salute as may become my sex, And he in virtue can vouchsafe to think, I yield him for the courteous Countess sake. Good sir fit down, my mother here and I, Count time mispent, and endless vanity. My needle sir. What if it were? Good Lord sir no, for hearts but pricked soft, Are wounded soar, for so I hear it oft. Should life & death within this needl urke, I'll prick no hearts, I'll prick upon my work. My Lord why are you thus impatient? Is he not married sir unto our Queen? And are not they by God accursed, That sever them whom he hath knit in one? O how he talks as if he should not die, As if that God in justice once could wink, Upon that fault I am a shamed to think. Better then live unchaste, to live in graven. But can his warrant keep my soul from hell? So counsel him, but sooth thou not his sin, 'Tis vain allurement that does make him love, I shame to hear, be you a shamed to move, In all allegiance I will serve his grace, But not in lust, o how I blush to name it? As I have said, in duty I am his: For other lawless lustest, that ill beseem him, I cannot Like, and good I will not deem him. If he have no great haste, he may come nigh. If haste, though he be gone, I will not cry. I cannot hate. 'Tis Greek to me my Lord, I'll wish you well, and thereon take my word. I, if her Ladyship will give me leave. Then noble English Peer, Accept this ring, wherein my heart is set, A constant heart, with burning flames befret: But under written this: Oh mortem duram: Hereon when so you look with eyes Puram, The maid you fancy most will favour you. Thanks good Woodman for the same, And our sport and merry meeting. Why not my Lord, since nature teaches art, To senseless beasts to cure their grievous smart. Dictanum serves to close the wound again. Why love again. Then I the herb would be. You shall not die for help, come follow me. Good Sir look on, how Like you this compact? Not grace in the ̄ good sir, but those that teach. Now gentle sir what would his grace with me? What though, the world may shame to him account To be a king of men and worldly pelf.