WRITTEN WITH A DIAMOND ON HER
WINDOW AT WOODSTOCK
1 Much suspected by me,
2 Nothing proved can be,
3 Quoth Elizabeth prisoner
WRITTEN ON A WALL AT WOODSTOCK
1 Oh Fortune, thy wresting wavering state
2 Hath fraught with cares my troubled wit,
3 Whose witness this present prison late
4 Could bear, where once was joy's loan quit.
5 Thou causedst the guilty to be loosed
6 From bands where innocents were inclosed,
7 And caused the guiltless to be reserved,
8 And freed those that death had well deserved.
9 But all herein can be nothing wrought,
10 So God send to my foes all they have thought.
WRITTEN IN HER FRENCH PSALTER
1 No crooked leg, no bleared eye,
2 No part deformed out of kind,
3 Nor yet so ugly half can be
4 As is the inward suspicious mind.
THE DOUBT OF FUTURE FOES
1 The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,
2 And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine
annoy;
3 For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects' faith doth
ebb,
4 Which should not be if reason ruled or wisdom weaved
the web.
5 But clouds of joys untried do cloak aspiring minds,
6 Which turn to rain of late repent by changed course of
winds.
7 The top of hope supposed the root upreared shall be,
8 And fruitless all their grafted guile, as shortly ye shall
see.
9 The dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition
blinds,
10 Shall be unsealed by worthy wights whose foresight
falsehood finds.
11 The daughter of debate that discord aye doth sow
12 Shall reap no gain where former rule still peace hath
taught to know.
13 No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port;
14 Our ...
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