By whom I hop’d once to bee blest
How cruell art thou turned?
That first gav’st lyfe unto my love,
And still a pleasure nott to move
Or change though ever burned;
Have I thee slack’d, or left undun
One loving rite, and soe have wunn
Thy rage or bitter changing?
That now noe minutes I shall see,
Wherein I may least happy bee
Thy favors soe estranging.
Blame thy self, and nott my folly,
Time gave time butt to bee holly;
True love such ends best loveth
Unworhty love doth seeke for ends
A worthy love butt worth pretends
Nor other thoughts itt proveth:
Then stay thy swiftnes cruell time,
And lett mee once more blessed clime
To joy, that I may prayse thee:
Lett mee pleasure sweetly tasting
Joy in love, and faith nott wasting
And on fames wings I’le rayse thee:
Never shall thy glory dying
Bee untill thine owne untying
That time noe longer liveth;
T’is a gaine such tyme to lend:
Since soe thy fame shall never end
Butt joy for what she giveth.