ÆLLA.
Mie lyttel kyndnesses whyche I dydd doe, 55
Thie gentleness doth corven them soe grete,
Lyche bawsyn[24] olyphauntes[25] mie gnattes doe shewe;
Thou doest mie thoughtes of paying love amate[26].
Botte hann mie actyonns straughte[27] the rolle of fate,
Pyghte thee fromm Hell, or broughte Heaven down to thee, 60
Layde the whol worlde a falldstole atte thie feete,
On smyle woulde be suffycyll mede for mee.
I amm Loves borro'r, & canne never paie,
Bott be hys borrower stylle, & thyne, mie swete, for aie.
BIRTHA.
Love, doe notte rate your achevmentes[28] soe smalle; 65
As I to you, syke love untoe mee beare;
For nothynge paste wille Birtha ever call,
Ne on a foode from Heaven thynke to cheere.
As farr as thys frayle brutylle flesch wylle spere,
Syke, & ne fardher I expecte of you; 70
Be notte toe slacke yn love, ne overdeare;
A smalle fyre, yan a loude flame, proves more true.