Newe sonets, and pretie pamphlets. Written by Thomas Howell gentelman

An humble sute to his friende, requesting Loue for Loue.

I Saw of late a wofull wight, That Willo wandes did winde to weare: Whose face declarde the painfull plight, Which he through loue then present beare. He lookte a loft as though he woulde Haue fled vnto the starrie skies: But still he stoode, as though he coulde, Not once heaue vs his heauie thées. His feathered handes he flashed foorthe, And thyther fayne he woulde haue ••••ead: But wofullman he was full wroothe, To see his limmes all lade with lead.

You are the bright and starrie skie, I am the man in painfull plight: My l••••••es are lade I cannot flie, My corps may not sustaine my weight

I read the woes of Sigismonde, The childe of Tanckred Salerne kinge: Her loue to Guystarde did so bounde, She fanced els none other thinge. For riches naught nor for his wealth, Whereof he had but slender store, His vertue was hir only health, She likte that well she sought no more. They had their hoped hap and ioye, If Tanckred coulde content him so, But he by workyng their anoy, Unto himselfe brought deepest woe.

You Sigismonde are fayre and bright, Woulde I had Guystardes vertuous life, And Tanckred chaste cleane out of sight, Then woulde I wish for such a wife.

I reade how Luna loued one, Of birth but meane of right good fame, By name iclipt Endimione, Whose loue was quite deuoyde of blame: In Laemi Hill it thus befell, She saw him sit all sad alone, Tis I ({que} she) I know full well, For whom he mournes and makes his mone: She was not shamde of Laemi Hill, Nor yet of Louers simple state, But straight consents, vnto his will, And him did choose for louing make.

O Luna looke vpon thy Loue, Endimion makes his mone to thée, Be not ashamde let pittie moue, And loue me like as I loue thée.

Finis.