To his Love that hath given him answer of refusal

THE ANSWER that ye made to me, my dear,

When I did sue for my poor heart’s redress,

Hath so appall’d my countenance and my cheer,

That in this case I am all comfortless;

Since I of blame no cause can well express.

I have no wrong, where I can claim no right,

Nought ta’en me fro, where I have nothing had,

Yet of my woe I cannot so be quite;

Namely, since that another may be glad

With that, that thus in sorrow makes me sad.

Yet none can claim, I say, by former grant,

That knoweth not of any grant at all;

And by desert, I dare well make avaunt

Of faithful will; there is nowhere that shall

Bear you more truth, more ready at your call.

Now good then, call again that bitter word,

That touch’d your friend so near with pangs of pain;

And say, my dear, that it was said in bord:

Late, or too soon, let it not rule the gain,

Wherewith free will doth true desert retain.