As close as you your wedīing kept

yet now the trueth I here:

Which you (yer now) might me have
told

what nede you nay to swere?

You know I alwayes wisht you wel

so wyll I during lyfe:

But sith you shal a Husband be

God send you a good wyfe.

And this (where so you shal become)

full boldly may you boast:

That once you had as true a Love,

as dwelt in any Coast.

Whose constāantnesse had never quaild

if you had not begonne:

And yet it is not so far past,

but might agayne be wonne.

If you so would: yea and not change

so long as lyfe should last:

But yf that needes you marry must?

then fare well, hope is past,

And if you cannot be content

to lead a single lyfe?

(Although the same right quiet be)

then take me to your wife.

So shall the promises be kept,

that you so firmly made:

Now chuse whether ye wyll be true,

or be of Sinons trade.

Whose trade if that you long shal use,

it shal your kindred stayne:

Example take by many a one

Whose falshood now is playne.

As by Eneas first of all,

who dyd poore Dido leave,

Causing the Quene by his untrueth

with Sword her hart to cleave,

Also I finde that Theseus did,

his faithfull love forsake:

Stealyng away within the night,

before she dyd a wake.

Jason that came of noble race,

two Ladies did begile:

I muse how he durst shew his face,

to them that knew his wile.

For when he by Medeas arte,

had got the Fleece of Gold

And also had of her, that time,

al kynd of things he wolde.

He toke his Ship and fled a way

regarding not the vowes:

That he dyd make so faithfully,

unto his loving Spowes,

Now durst he trust the surging Seas

knowing himselfe forsworne:

Why dyd he scape safe to the land,

before the ship was torne?

I think king Aeolus stayd the winds

and Neptune rulde the Sea:

Then might he boldly passe the waves

no perils could him stea.

But if his falsehed had to them,

bin manifest befor:

They wold have rent the ship as soone

as he had gon from shore.

Now may you heare how falsenes is

made manyfest in time:

Although they that cōommit the same,

think it a veniall crime.

For they, for their unfaithfulnes,

did get perpetuall Fame:

Fame? wherfore dyd I terme it so?

I should have cald it shame.

Let Theseus be, let Jason passe,

let Paris also scape:

That brought destruction unto Troy

all through the Grecian Rape.

And unto me a Troylus be,

if not you may compare:

With any of these parsons that

above expressed are.

But if I can not please your minde,

for wants that rest in me:

Wed whom you list, I am content,

your refuse for to be.

It shall suffise me simple soule,

of thee to be forsaken:

And it may chance although not yet

you wish you had me taken.

But rather thēen you shold have cause

to wish this through your wyfe:

I wysh to her, ere you her have,

no more but love of lyfe.

For she that shal so happy be,

of thee to be elect:

I wish her vertues to be such,

she nede not be suspect.

I rather wish her Helens face,

then one of Helens trade:

With chastnes of Penelope

the which did never fade.

A Lucres for her constancy,

and Thisbie for her trueth:

If such thou have, then Peto be

not Paris, that were rueth.

Perchance, ye will think this thing,
rare

in on woman to fynd:

Save Helens beauty, al the rest

the Gods have me assignd.

These words I do not spek, thinking

from thy new Love to turne thee:

Thou knowst by prof what I deserve

I nede not to informe thee.

But let that passe: would God I had

Cassandraes gift me lent:

Then either thy yll chaunce or mine

my foresight might prevent.

But all in vayne for this I seeke,

wishes may not attaine it

Therfore may hap to me what shall,

and I cannot refraine it.

Wherfore I pray God be my guide

and also thee defend:

No worser then I wish my selfe,

untill thy lyfe shal end.

Which life I pray God, may agayne,

King Nestors lyfe renew:

And after that your soule may rest

amongst the heavenly crew.

Therto I wish King Xerxis wealth,

or els King Cressus Gould:

With as much rest and quietnesse

as man may have on Mould.

And when you shall this letter have

let it be kept in store?

For she that sent the same, hath sworn

as yet to send no more.

And now farewel, for why at large

my mind is here exprest?

The which you may perceive, if that

you do peruse the rest?

Ye Virgins that from Cupids tentes

do beare a way the foyle

Whose hartes as yet with raginge
love

most paynfully do boyle.

To you I speake: for you be they,

that good advice do lacke:

Oh, if I could good counsell geve

my tongue should not be slacke?

But such as I can geve, I wyll,

here in few wordes expresse

Which if you do observe, it will

some of your care redresse.

Beware of fayre and painted talke,

beware of flattering tonges:

The Mermaides do pretend no good

for all their pleasant Songs.

Some use the teares of Crocodiles,

contrary to their hart:

And yf they cannot alwayes weepe,

they wet their Cheekes by Art.

Ovid, within his Arte of love,

doth teach them this same knacke

To wet their hāand, & touch their eies:

so oft as teares they lacke.

Why have ye such deceit in store?

have you such crafty wile?

Lesse craft thēen this god knows wold
soone

us simple soules begile.

And wyll ye not leave of? but still

delude us in this wise?

Sith it is so, we trust we shall,

take hede to fained lies.

Trust not a man at the fyrst sight,

but trye him well before:

I wish al Maids within their brests

to kepe this thing in store.

If Scilla had not trust to much

before that she dyd trye:

She could not have ben clene forsake

when she for help did crye.

Or yf she had had good advice

Nisus had lived long:

Now durst she trust a strainger, and

do her deare father wrong.

King Nisus had a Haire by fate

which Haire while he dyd kepe:

He never should be overcome

neither on Land nor depe.

The straūunger that the Daughter lov’d

did warre against the King

And alwaies sought how that he might

them in subjection bring.

This Scylla stole away the Haire,

for to obtaine her wyll:

And gave it to the Straunger that,

dyd straight her father kyll.

Then she, who thought her self most
sure

to have her whole desyre:

Was cleane reject, and left behind

When he dyd whom retyre.

Or if such falshood had ben once,

unto Oenone knowne:

About the fieldes of Ida wood,

Paris had walkt alone.

Or if Demophoons deceite,

to Phillis had ben tolde:

She had not ben transformed so,

as Poets tell of olde.

Hero did trie Leanders truth,

before that she did trust:

Therfore she found him unto her

both constant, true, and just.

For he alwayes did swim the Sea,

when starres in Skie did glide:

Till he was drowned by the way

nere hand unto the side.

She scrat her Face, she tare her Heir

(it greveth me to tell)

When she did know the end of him,

that she did love so well.

But like Leander there be fewe,

therfore in time take heede:

And alwayes trie before ye trust,

so shall you better speede.

The little Fish that carelesse is,

within the water cleare:

How glad is he, when he doth see,

a Bayt for to appeare.

He thinks his hap right good to bee,

that he the same could spie:

And so the simple foole doth trust

to much before he trie.

O little Fish what hap hadst thou?

to have such spitefull Fate:

To come into ones cruell hands,

out of so happy state?

Thonu diddst suspect no harme, when
thou

upon the bait didst looke:

O that thou hadst had Linceus eies

for to have seene the hooke.

Then hadst thou with thy prety mates

bin playing in the streames

Wheras syr Phebus dayly doth,

shew forth his golden beames.

But sith thy fortune is so yll

to end thy lyfe on shore:

Of this thy most unhappy end,

I minde to speake no more.

But of thy Felowes chance that late

such prety shift did make:

That he from Fishers hooke did sprīint

before he could him take.

And now he pries on every baite,

suspecting styll that pricke:

(for to lye hid in every thing)

where with the Fishers stricke.

And since the Fish that reason lacks

once warned doth beware:

Why should not we take hede to that

that turneth us to care.

And I who was deceived late,

by ones unfaithfull teares:

Trust now for to be ware, if that

I live this hundreth yeares,

As dutie wils, so nature moves,

thy frend these lines to wright:

Wherin thy fraude, (O faithlesse
thou)

I minde to bring to light.

Can plighted faith, so firmly plight,

without defect be moved?

Or should the man that faithfull is,

so slenderly be loved?

Should hate his guerdon thus remaine

in place of thy good wyl?

Should rigor raign within thy brest

to vanquish reasons skyll?

Should faith to falshod so be changed

(alas) the greater ruthe?

When double dealying is preferd,

before a perfect truethe?

Yf case such hap, as recompence,

unto your friend you yelde?

What Bulwarke canst thou clayme,

gainst Gods thy selfe to sheilde?

Can they that sit in hauty Heavens

such covert gilt abyde?

Or ar they parcial now deemst thou?

isJustice throwne a syde?

Nay just are they, and justice styll,

as just, they justly use:

And unto them, as giltlesse then,

canst thou thy selfe excuse?

No, no, not so, for they beholde,

thy double deades, be sure:

No forged style, nor flattryng phrase

their favour may allure.

No gifts, no golde, can them corrupt

such justice there doth raigne:

And they that disobey their heastes,

are subject unto payne.

These are no novel newes I tell,

the proofe is playnly knowne:

To such as do offend their wils,

their powre forth are showne:

To see thy conscience, gylty is,

thy faithles frawde they see:

And thinkste thou then, this gilt of
thine,

can unrewarded bee?

O faith, think not so far to wish,

from reasons lymyts pure:

But judg thy selfe, what justice they

to sinfull ones inure.

And thy selfe such domb, shalt geve,

as gilty shalt thou find:

Therfore relent, and once agayne,

thy grudging conscience minde.

Which unto Gods that sacred are,

as gilty thee bewray:

In place of fraude, let faith & trueth

with thee now beare the sway.

Revoke and call to memory,

the fruits of friendship showne:

Perpend in mind, my tormēents strong

my playnts and pensive mone.

Which sixe yeares long, as pacionate

to carpyng yoake of care:

I bod for thee, as thou thy selfe,

I know canst wel declare.

Remēember thou the plaints & teares,

which I powrd foorth for thee:

And ponder well the sacred vow,

that thou hast made to mee.

Which vow gave comfort to thi frend

that subject served to griefe:

Thou gavest thy selfe a pledg to me,

thy faith was my releife.

But now what helysh hagge? (alas)

hath tournde thy love to hate:

Or els what whelpe of Hydras
kind

in thee hath wrought debate.

Alas, wilt thou dispoyle me quight,

of my possessed joye?

Or wilt thou plunge me headlong thus,

to gulphes of great annoye?

Who would a thought (alas)

such fraude to rest in thee?

Who wold have deemd withou desert

thy hart should change from mee?

Whose hart hath coucht his tent,

within my covert brest:

And thine I hopte, of me thy friend,

likewise had ben possest.

But waveryng minds I plainly see,

so compassed with guile:

Pretend by slights, the perfect joyes,

of frindes for to exile.

O, shuld a pratlying Parasite, so egge

thee with disdayne?

That thou the presence of thy friend

through flattery should refrayne?

Not vouching once to speake with him

whose hart thou hast in hold:

Sith likeing fame hath graunted
grace

should love so soone be cold.

Consider these my letters well,

and answer them agenne:

For I thy friend in covert zeale,

this time hath closd my penne.

Farewel, adieu ten thousand times,

to God I thee commend:

Beseching him his heavenly grace,

unto thee styll to send.

Thy friend in wealth, thy friend in woe,

Thy friend while lyfe, shal flytt me froe:

And whilst that you, injoy your breath,

Leave not your friend, unto the death:

For greater praise cannot be wonne,

Then to observe true love begonne.

All youthful Wights at lyberty

whom love did never thrall,

I wish that my decay may bee,

a warnyng to you all:

That have a soare bred in my Brest

although it be not strange:

Yet wyll it bryng mee to the Grave

without some sodaine change.

For I by Sute have served one

two yeares and somwhat more,

And now I can no longer serve

my hart it is so sore.

Whiche hart I let to Userie

through gredie fond desire:

Not doubting to receive home twain

when I would them requyre.

But if that everie Userer

had such good hap as I,

There would not be so many men

would use this Userie.

My Debtor hath deceyved mee

for she is from mee fled:

And I am left among the Bryers

to bryng a Foole to Bed.

So that I seely man remayne

eche day in doubtfull case:

For death doth dayly lye in
wayte

to rest me with his Mace.

And cast mee into Prison strong

the Doore is made of Brasse:

And I might bles my houre of birth

if it were come to passe.

For lo my carefull choyce doth choose

to keepe mee styll in thrall,

And doth regard my love no more

then Stone that lyes in wall:

Wherby I see that Womens hartes

are made of Marble Stone

I see how carelesse they can bee

when pensive men do mone.

I sowed both pure and perfect seede

on fayre and pleasant grounde

In hope though harvest brought som
pain

som profit might bee found.

But now the Harvest ended is

and for my faythfull Seedes

And all my payne and labour past:

I have nought els but Weedes.

I thrust my hand among the Thornes

in hope the Rose to finde.

I prickt my hand and eke my hart

yet left the Rose behynde.

Not I, but many more I knowe

in Love do lacke releefe,

But I as cause doth mee compell,

do wayle my payne and griefe.

I doubtlesse can not bee the first

That Love hath put to payne,

Nor yet I shall not be the last

that Women wyll disdayne.

If I poore wretch should think upon

the paynes that I have past:

Or if I should recount the cares,

that she hath made me taste

Into Dispayre it would mee drive,

and cleave my hart in twaine:

Or els bereave me of my Wittes

to thinke upon the payne.

I never spent one day in Joye

my carefull hart doth know,

Since first I lent my Love to her

by whom my griefe doth growe.

There are not greater paynes assignd

for dampned Ghostes in hell:

Then I do suffer for her sake,

that I do love so well.

The Pryce that I have paid for love

not many men do gyve.

But I my Bargayne shall repent

as longe as I do lyve.

I payde for love and that full deare

yet I receyve right nought,

I never was so much deceyved

in any thynge I bought.

If everie woman on her friend

such pitie use to take,

Then shortly men wyll ron to love,

as Beares unto a stake.

But now let Venus fire her forge

let Cupids Shafte be sent:

They can no more encrease my woe

for all my Love is spent.

But here good Reader thou maist see

how Love hath paide my hyre,

To leave mee burnyng in the flame,

compeld to blow the fyre.

But if that thou good frende desire

to lyve in happy state,

Then seeke in time lest thou mistep,

Repentance comes too late.

Frequent not Womens company

but see thou from them swerve

For thy Rewarde shall be but smal,

whatever thou deserve.

Take heede for thou maist come in thrall

Before that thou beware:

And when thou art entangled once

thou canst not flie the snare.

Take thou not this to be a Jest,

but thinke it to be true,

Before thou prove as I have done,

least proofe do make thee rew.

Yet if thou chaunce to place thy love

take heede what thou doest saie:

And see thou place thy talke in Print

or els beware a fraie.

And thus I ende: not doubtyng but

these wordes may well suffice,

To warne thy gredie hart of harme

and ease thy roving eyes.