Where shall I have at myn owne will

Where shall I have at myn owne will
Teres to complain? where shall I fett
Suche sighes that I may sigh my fill,
And then again my plaintes repete?

For tho my plaint shall have none end.
My teres cannot suffice my woo :
To mone my harme have I no frend.
For fortunes frend is myshappes ffoo.

Comfort (God wot) els have I none
But in the wynde to wast my wordes :
Nought moveth you my dedly mone.
But all, you torn it into hordes.

I speke not now to move your hert.
That you should (rue) upon my pain :
The sentence geven may not revert :
I know suche labor were but vayn

But syns that I for you my dere
Have lost that thing that was my best,
A right small losse it must appere.
To lese thes wordes and all the rest.

But tho they sparkill in the wynde
Yet shall they show your falsed faith,
Which is retorned unto his kynde,
For like to like, the proverbe saieth.

Ffortune and you did me avaunce :
Me thought I swam and could not drowne.
Happiest of all : but my myschaunce
Did lyft me up to thro we me downe.

And you with your owne cruelnes,
Did set your fote upon my neck :
Me and my welfare to oppresse
Withoute offence your hert to wreke.

Wher are your plaisaunt wordes, alas;
Where your faith, your stedfastnes ?
There is no more, but all doeth passe
And I ame left all comfortles.

But forbicause it doeth you greve,
And al so me, my wretched liff :
Have here my trouth, shall not releve,
But deth alone, my very striff.

Therefore farewell my liff, my deth,
My gayn, my losse, my salve, my sore :
Farewell also with you, my breth,
For I ame gone for evermore.