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But if thou dost (my sweet) denie To recompence me by and by, (35) thy promise shall relent me: Here-after some reward to finde, Behold how I doe please my minde, and fauours doe content me, That though thou speak’st it but in iest: (40) I meane to take it at the best.
Behold how much loue workes in me, And how ill recompenc’d of thee that with the shadow of Thy happy fauours (though delay’d) (45) I thinke my selfe right well appay’d, although they proue a scoffe. Then pitty me, that haue forgot, My selfe for thee that carest not.
O in extreame thou art most faire, (50) And in extreame vniust despaire thy crueltie maintaines: Oh that thou wert so pittifull Vnto these torments that doe pull my soule with sencelesse paines, (55) As thou shew’st in that face of thine: Where pitty and mild grace should shine.
If that thy faire and sweetest face Assureth me both peace and grace, thy hard and cruell hart: (60) Which in that white breast thou do’st beare, Doth make me tremble yet for feare thou wilt not end my smart.