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My lute, awake ; perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall wast,

And ende that I have now begunne ;
And when this song is song and past,

My lute, be styll; for I have done.

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* Born 1503; dyed 1541. - To distinguish him from another of the name, be is usually called Sir Thomas Wyats the elder,

Vol. I.

As to be heard where eare is none,
As leade to grave in marble stone,

My song may pearce her hart as soon;
Should we then figh, or fing, or mone?

No, no, my lute, for I have done.

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The rocks do not so cruelly
Repulse the waves continually,

As she my suite and affection;
So that I am past remedy,

Whereby my lute and I have done.

15

Proude of the fpoyle that thou hast gotte
Of simple hearts, through loves shot,

By whome, unkind, thou hast them wonne;
Think not he hath his bow forgott,

Although my lute and I have done.

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20

Vengeance shall fall on thy disdaine,
That makest but game on earnest payne ;

Think not alone under the funn
Unquit to cause thy lovers playne,

Although my lute and I have done.

25

May chance thee lye withred and old,
In winter nights that are so cold,

Playning in vaine unto the moon;
Thy wishes then dare not be told,

Care then who list, for I have doone.

30

V. 26. chanced.

And then may chaunce thee to repent
The time that thou hast loft and spent,

To cause thy lovers fighe and swone ;
Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,

And with and want as I have done.

35

Now cease, my lute; this is the last
Labour that thou and I shall waft,

And ended is that we begonne ;
Now is this song both song and past :

My lute, be still; for I have done.

40

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PRISONER IN WINDSOR, HE RECOUNTETH

HIS PLEASURE THERE PASSED.

BY HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY.

So cruell prison howe could betyde, alas !
As proude Windsor; where I, in luft and joy,
Wythe a Kynges sonne, my chyldysh yeres dyd passe,
In greater feast than Priams sonnes of Troye;
Where eche swete place returnes a taftfull sower: 5
The large grene court where we were wont to“ hove,'
Wyth eyes caft up into the maydens tower,
And easy fighes, such as folkes draw in love;
The stately feates, the ladies brighte of hewe;
The daunces short, long tales of greate delight, 10
Wyth woordes and lookes, that tygers could but rewe,
Where eche of us dyd please the others ryghte;
The palme play, where despoyled for the game,
With dared eyes oft we by gleames of love, ,
Have myst the ball, and gote fighte of our dame, 15
To bayte her eyes, whyche kept the leads above;
The gravel ground, wythe sleves tyde on the helme
On fomyng horse, with swordes and friendly hartes ;
Wythe chere as though one should another whelme,
Where we have fought, and chased oft with dartes ; 20

* Born 15..; beheaded 1546.

V. 6. trove.

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