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Blame not my
lute! for he must sound
Of this or that as liketh me;
For lack of wit the lute is bound
To give such tunes
as pleaseth me;
Though my songs be somewhat strange,
And speak such words as touch thy change,
Blame not
my lute!
My lute, alas! doth not offend,
Though
that perforce he must agree
To sound such tunes as I
intend
To sing to them that heareth me;
Then
though my songs be somewhat plain,
And toucheth some
that use to feign,
Blame not my lute!
My lute and
strings may not deny,
But as I strike they must obey;
Break not them then so wrongfully,
But wreak thyself
some other way;
And though the songs which I indite
Do quit thy change with rightful spite,
Blame not my
lute!
Spite asketh spite, and changing change,
And
falsed faith must needs be known;
The fault so great,
the case so strange,
Of right it must abroad be
blown;
Then since that by thine own desert
My
songs do tell how true thou art,
Blame not my lute.
Blame but thyself that hast misdone,
And well
deserved to have blame;
Change thou thy way, so evil
begun,
And then my lute shall sound that same;
But
if till then my fingers play
By thy desert their
wonted way,
Blame not my lute!
Farewell, unknown!
for though thou break
My strings in spite with great
disdain,
Yet have I found out, for thy sake,
Strings for to string my lute again.
And if perchance
this seely rhyme
Do make thee blush at any time,
Blame not my lute!
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