To his Ladie, that by hap when he kissed hir and made hir lip bleed, controld him and tooke disdaine

DIscharge thy dole,
Thou subtile soule,
It standes in little stéede
To cursse the kisse
That causer is
Thy chirrie lip doth bléede.
Thy bloud ascends
To make amends
For domage thou hast donne:
For by the same
I felt a flame
More scorching than the Sunne.
Thou reftst my harte
By secret Arte,
My sprites were quite subdude:
My Senses fled
And I was ded,
Thy lippes were scarce imbrude.
The kisse was thine,
The hurt was mine,
My hart felt all the paine:
Twas it that bled
And lookte so red,
I tell thée once againe.
But if you long
To wreake your wrong
Vpon your friendly fo:
Come kisse againe
And put to paine
The man that hurt you so.