Blame not my lute

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 speaks 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 he 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 wiser 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 falsèd 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 deservèd 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 foolish rhyme Do make thee blush at any time, Blame not my lute.