Columbine
38
Request to Cupide for revenge of his unkinde love by Sir Thomas Wyatt
chosen by Devon
Behold, Love, thy power how she despiseth:
My grevous pain how little she regardeth,
The solemne othe, whereof she takes no cure,
Broken she hath: and yet, she bydeth sure,
Right at her ease, and little thee she dredeth.
Weaponed thou art, and she unarmed sitteth:
To thee disdainfull, all her life she leadeth:
To me spitefull, without just cause, or measure.
Behold Love, how proudly she triumpheth,
I am in hold, but if thee pitie meveth:
Go, bend thy bow, that stony hartes breaketh:
And with some stroke revenge the great displeasure
Of thee, and him that sorrow doth endure,
And as his Lord thee lowly here entreateth.
From Mirour for Magistrates, by Author Unknown
chosen by Greta
For whan the kinge did know that for my cause,
His Lordes in Maske, would murder him by night,
To dash al doubts, he tooke no farther pause:
But Piers of Exton a cruel cutthroate knight,
To Pomfret Castle sent with great dispite,
Who reft my lyfe by force against al Lawes,
Thus lawlesse lyfe to lawlesse death ay drawes.
Wherfore bid kings be ruled, and rule by right.
And so Send concluding with this clause:
That God though late, at last will surely smyte.