Nicholas Udall

Yea, Custance, better (they say) a bad excuse than none.

Gay love, God save it, so soone hotte, so soone colde.

Since I went no grasse hath growne on my hele.

Wowers never speede well, that have a false harte.

I am sorie God made me so comely.

For Myrth prolongeth lyfe, and causeth health.

That same manne, that renneth awaye, Maye again fight, an other daye.