1 Shall I die? Shall I fly Lovers' baits and deceits, sorrow breeding? Shall I tend? Shall I send? Shall I sue, and not rue my proceeding? In all duty her beauty Binds me her servant for ever. If she scorn, I mourn, I retire to despair, joying never. 2 Yet I must vent my lust And explain inward pain by my love breeding. If she smiles, she exiles All my moan; if she frown, all my hopes deceiving -- Suspicious doubt, O keep out, For thou art my tormentor. Fly away, pack away; I will love, for hope bids me venter.
3 'Twere abuse to accuse My fair love, ere I prove her affection. Therefore try! Her reply Gives thee joy -- or annoy, or affliction. Yet howe'er, I will bear Her pleasure with patience, for beauty Sure [will] not seem to blot Her deserts, wronging him doth her duty. . . . .
4 In a dream it did seem -- But alas, dreams do pass as do shadows -- I did walk, I did talk With my love, with my dove, through fair meadows. Still we passed till at last We sat to repose us for our pleasure. Being set, lips met, Arms twined, and did bind my heart's treasure.
5 Gentle wind sport did find Wantonly to make fly her gold tresses, As they shook I did look, But her fair did impair all my senses. As amazed, I gazed On more than a mortal complexion. Them that love can prove Such force in beauty's inflection. . . . .
6 Next her hair, forehead fair, Smooth and high; next doth lie, without wrinkle, Her fair brows; under those, Star-like eyes win love's prize when they twinkle. In her cheeks who seeks Shall find there displayed beauty's banner; Oh admiring desiring Breeds, as I look still upon her.
7 Thin lips red, fancy's fed With all sweets when he meets, and is granted There to trade, and is made Happy, sure, to endure still undaunted. Pretty chin doth win Of all [the world] commendations; Fairest neck, no speck; All her parts merit high admirations.
8 A pretty bare, past compare, Parts those plots which besots still asunder. It is meet naught but sweet Should come near that so rare 'tis a wonder. No mishap, no scape Inferior to nature's perfection; No blot, no spot: She's beauty's queen in election.
9 Whilst I dreamt, I, exempt From all care, seems to share pleasures in plenty; But awake, care take -- For I find to my mind pleasures scanty. Therefore I will try To compass my heart's chief contenting. To delay, some say, In such a case causeth repenting. Note: Bracketed words indicate alterations to correct what appear to be errors by the copyist; ``sue'' in Line 5 is the most recent rendering of the text.