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04c. 1576 AD
Full little knowest thou that hast not tride, What hell it is in suing long to bide: To loose good dayes, that might be better spent; To wast long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow. . . . . . . . . . To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares; To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires; To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne, To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne. Unhappie wight, borne to desastrous end, That doth his life in so long tendance spend!
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20Undated
The other (maiden) up arose And her fair lockes, which formerly were bound Up in one knot, she low adowne did loose: Which, flowing long and thick her clothed around. And the ivorie in golden mantle gowned: So that fair spectacle from him was reft, Yet that, which reft it, no less faire was found: So, hid in lockes and waves from looker’s theft, Nought but her lovely face she for his looking left. Withall she laughèd, and she blushed withall, That blushing to her laughter gave more grace, And laughter to her blushing.
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