❧ A New Ballad of a Lover/ Extollinge his Lady.  
To the tune of Damon and Pythias.  
ALas my heart doth boil, and burn with in my breast: To show to thee mine  
only dear, my suit and sure request. My love no tongue can tell, ne pen can well descry:  
Extend thy Love for love again? Or else for Love I die.  

¶ My love is set so sure,  
And fixed on thee so:  
That by no means I can abstain,  
My faithful love to show,  
My wounded heart therefore:  
To thee for help doth cry:  
Extend thy love for love again,  
Or else for love I die.   

¶ Although the Gods were bend,  
With greedy mind to slay:  
My corpses with cruel pangs of death,  
And life to take away.  
yet should my faithful heart,  
At no time from thee fly:  
Show love therefore for love again,  
Or else for love I die.   

¶ Although the Sun were bend,  
To burn me with his beams:  
and that mine eyes throw grievous pangs,  
Should send forth bloody streams.  
yet would I not for sake,  
But still to thee wolude cry:  
To show me love for love again,  
Or else for love I die.   

¶ ye though each star were turned,  
Until a fiery dart:  
And were all ready bent with pain,  
To pierce throw out my heart.  
yet could I not forsake,  
To love thee faithfully,  
Extend thy love for love again,  
Or else for love I die.   

❧ ye though each foul were formed,  
A Serpent fell to be:  
My corpse to slay which bloody wounds,  
And to devour me.  
yet would I be thine own,  
To love full heartily:  
Extend thy love for love again,  
Or else for love I die.   

¶ ye though the Lion were,  
with gaping greedy jaw:  
Ready with rygorus raggye teeth,  
My flesh to tear and gnaw,  
yet would I be thine own,  
To serve most earnestly:  
Extend thy love, for love again,  
Or else for love I die.   

¶ ye though the fishes all,  
That swymes in surging seize:  
should swallow me which greedy mouth  
yet could thee not appease.  
My earnest heart to thee,  
To love entyerlye:  
Extend thy love for love again,  
Or else for love I die.   

¶ ye though the earth would gape,  
And swallow me there in:  
And that I should tormented be,  
In hell with every fin.  
yet would I be thy own,  
To save or else to spill:  
Show me therefore like love again  
Or else thou dost me kill.   
Finis.  
ꝙ M. Osb.   

Imprinted at London, in Fletstrete at the sign of the Falcon, by William Gryffith. 1568.