The neglected Lover calleth on his Pen to record the ungentle Behaviour of his unkind Mistress

MY pen! take pain a little space

To follow that which doth me chase,

And hath in hold my heart so sore;

But when thou hast this brought to pass,

My pen! I prithee write no more.

Remember oft thou hast me eased,

And all my pains full well appeased,

But now I know, unknown before,

For where I trust, I am deceived;

And yet, my pen! thou can’st no more.

A time thou haddest as other have

To write which way my hope to crave;

That time is past, withdraw, therefore:

Since we do lose that others have,

As good leave off and write no more.

In worth to use another way;

Not as we would, but as we may,

For once my loss is past restore,

And my desire is my decay;

My pen! yet write a little more.

To love in vain, who ever shall

Of worldly pain it passeth all,

As in like case I find; wherefore

To hold so fast, and yet to fall!

Alas! my pen, now write no more.

Since thou hast taken pain this space

To follow that which doth me chace,

And hath in hold my heart so sore,

Now hast thou brought my mind to pass,

My pen! I prithee write no more.