What though[1727] my penne wax faynt, And hath smale lust to paint? Yet shall there no restraynt Cause me to cese, Amonge this prese, For to encrese Yowre goodly name. 960 I wyll my selfe applye, Trust[1728] me, ententifly, Yow for to stellyfye; And so obserue That ye ne swarue For to deserue Inmortall fame.[1729] Sith mistres[1730] Iane Haiset[1731] Smale flowres helpt to sett In my goodly chapelet, 970 Therfore I render of her the memory Vnto the legend of fare Laodomi.[1732] _To maystres Isabell Pennell._ By saynt Mary, my lady, Your mammy and your dady Brought forth a godely babi! My mayden Isabell, Reflaring rosabell, The flagrant camamell; The ruddy rosary, The souerayne rosemary, 980 The praty strawbery; The columbyne, the nepte, The ieloffer well set, The propre vyolet; Enuwyd your[1733] colowre Is lyke the dasy flowre After the Aprill showre; Sterre[1734] of the morow gray, The blossom on the spray, The fresshest flowre of May; 990 Maydenly demure, Of womanhode[1735] the lure; Wherfore I make you sure[1736], It were an heuenly helth, It were an endeles welth, A lyfe for God hymselfe, To here this nightingale, Amonge the byrdes smale, Warbelynge in the vale, Dug, dug, 1000 Iug, iug, Good yere and good luk, With chuk, chuk, chuk, chuk! _To maystres Margaret Hussey._ Mirry Margaret, As mydsomer flowre, Ientill as fawcoun Or hawke of the towre; With solace and gladnes, Moche mirthe and no madnes, All good and no badnes, 1010 So ioyously, So maydenly, So womanly Her demenyng In euery thynge, Far, far passynge That I can endyght, Or suffyce to wryght Of mirry Margarete, As mydsomer flowre, 1020 Ientyll as fawcoun Or hawke of the towre; As pacient and as styll, And as full of good wyll, As fayre[1737] Isaphill; Colyaunder, Swete pomaunder, Good cassaunder; Stedfast of thought, Wele made, wele wrought; 1030 Far may be sought Erst that[1738] ye can fynde So corteise, so kynde As mirry Margarete[1739], This[1740] midsomer flowre, Ientyll as fawcoun Or hawke of the towre. _To mastres Geretrude Statham._