London, hast thou accused me Of breach of laws, the root of strife? Within whose breast did boil to see, So fervent hot, thy dissolute life, That even the hate of sins that grow Within thy wicked walls so rife, For to break forth did convert so That terror could it not repress.
1557 'London, hast thou accused me'.
Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest; Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain, And virtue sank the deeper in his breast; Such profit he of envy could obtain.Surrey, Henry Howard, Earl Of
Love, that doth reign and live within my thought, And built his seat within my captive breast, Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought, Oft in my face he doth his banner rest.Surrey, Henry Howard, Earl Of
So cruel prison how could betide, alas, As proud Windsor? Where I in lust and joy With a king's son my childish years did pass In greater feast than Priam's sons of Troy.Surrey, Henry Howard, Earl Of
Set me whereas the sun doth parch the green, Or where his beams may not dissolve the ice, In temperate heat, where he is felt and seen, With proud people, in presence sad and wise; Set me in base, or yet in high degree, In the long night, or in the shortest day, In clear weather, or where mists thickest be, In lusty youth, or when my hairs be grey? Yours will I be, and with that only thought Comfort myself when that my hap is nought.Surrey, Henry Howard, Earl Of