The forsaken Lover consoleth himself with remembrance of past Happiness

SPITE hath no power to make me sad,

Nor scornfulness to make me plain.

It doth suffice that once I had,

And so to leave it is no pain.

Let them frown on that least doth gain,

Who did rejoice must needs be glad;

And though with words thou wee’nst to reign,

It doth suffice that once I had.

Since that in checks thus overthwart,

And coyly looks thou dost delight;

It doth suffice that mine thou wert,

Though change hath put thy faith to flight.

Alas! it is a peevish spite,

To yield thyself and then to part;

But since thou force thy faith so light,

It doth suffice that mine thou wert.

And since thy love doth thus decline,

And in thy heart such hate doth grow;

It doth suffice that thou wert mine,

And with good will I quite it so.

Sometime my friend, farewell my foe,

Since thou change I am not thine;

But for relief of all my woe,

It doth suffice that thou wert mine.

Praying you all that hear this song,

To judge no wight, nor none to blame;

It doth suffice she doth me wrong,

And that herself doth know the same.

And though she change it is no shame,

Their kind it is, and hath been long;

Yet I protest she hath no name;

It doth suffice she doth me wrong.