Love doth againe

Love doth againe
Put me to payne
And yet all is but lost,
I serve yn vayne
And am certayne
Of all, mislikid most.

Both heate and colde
Doth so me holde
And combred so my minde,
That when I shulde 'o
Speke and beholde
It dryveth me still behinde.

My wittis be paste.
My lif doeth waste.
My comforte is exild,
And I in haste
Am lyke to taste
How love hathe me begilde.

Onles that right
Maye yn her sight
Obtaine pitye and grace,
Whye shulde a wight
Have bewtye bright
Yf mercye have no place ?

Yett I alas
Am in soche cace
That bak I cannot goo,
But still forth trace
A patiente pace
And suffre secret woo,

Ffor with the winde
My fyred mynde
Doth still inflame.
And she unkinde
That ded me binde
Doth tome yt all to game.

Yet may no payne
Make me refraine
Nor here and there to range,
I shall tetaine
Hope to obtayne
Her hert that is so straunge.

But I require
The paynefull fire
That oft doth make me swete.
For all my yre,
Withe lyke desire
To gyve her herte a hete

Then shall she prove
Hove I her love.
And what I have offerde,
Wiche shulde her move
For to remove
The paynes I have suffrd.

And better ffe
Than she gave me
She shall of me attayne.
For whereas she
Showde crueltye,
She shall my hert obtayne.