(45) I thinke my selfe right well appay’d, although they prooue 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 cruelty maintaines: O that thou wert so pittifull Vnto these torments that doo 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 doo’st beare, Dooth make me tremble yet for feare thou wilt not end my smart. In contraries of such a kinde: Tell me what succour shall I finde?
(65) If then young Sheepheardesse thou craue A Heards-man for thy beast to haue, with grace thou maist restore Thy Sheepheard from his barren loue, For neuer other shalt thou prooue, (70) that seekes to please thee more: And who to serue thy turne, will neuer shun, The nipping frost, and beames of parching Sun.
FINIS. Bar. Yong.