THE
SECOND BOOKE
OF
AYRES

William Corkine

	1 Deere, though your minde stand so auerse, That no assaulting words can pierce, Your swift and angry flight forbeare, What neede you doubt, what neede you feare ? In vaine I striue your thoughts to moue, But stay, and heare me yet sweet loue.
	2 Words may entreat you, not enforce, Speake though I might till I were hoarse, Already you resolue I know No gentle looke or Grace to show. My passions all must haplesse roue, But stay, and heare me yet sweet loue.
	3 Sith here no help nor hope remaines, To ease my griefe, or end my paines, Ile seeke in lowest shades to finde Rest for my heart, peace for my minde. Goe thou more cruell farre then faire, And now, : \|\| : leaue me to my despaire.