The absent lover (in ciphers) deciphering his name, doth crave some spedie relief as followeth.
	L' Escu d' amour, the shield of perfect love,
	The shield of love, the force of steadfast faith,
	The force of fayth which never will remove,
	But standeth fast, to byde the broonts of death:
	That trustie targe, hath long borne of the blowes,
	And broke the thrusts, which absence at me throws.
	In dolefull dayes I lead an absent life,
	And wound my will with many a weary thought:
	I plead for peace, yet sterve in stormes of strife,
	I find debate, where quiet rest was sought.
	These panges with mo, unto my paine I prove,
	Yet beare I all uppon my shield of love.
	In colder cares are my conceipts consumd,
	Than Dido felt when false Enaeas fled:
	In farre more heat, than trusty Troylus fumd,
	When craftie Cressyde dwelt with Diomed.
	My hope such frost, my hot desire such flame,
	That I both fryse, and smoulder in the same.
	So that I live, and dye in one degree,
	Healed by hope, and hurt againe with dread:
	Fast bounde by fayth when fansie would be free,
	Vntyed by trust, though thoughts enthrall my head.
	Reviv'd by joyes, when hope doth most abound,
	And yet with grief, in depth of dollors drownd.
	In these assaultes I feele my feebled force
	Begins to faint, thus weried still in woes:
	And scarcely can my thus consumed corse,
	Hold up this Buckler to beare of these blowes.
	So that I crave, or presence for relief,
	Or some supplie, to ease mine absent grief.
	Lenuoie
	To you (deare Dame) this dolefull plaint I make,
	Whose onely sight may some redresse my smart:
	Then shew your selfe, and for your servauntes sake,
	Make hast post hast, to helpe a faythfull harte.
	Mine owne poore shield hath me defended long.
	Now lend me yours, for elles you do me wrong.
	Meritum petere, grave.