[K1v]
(5) Let hungry Woolues by dogges to death be torne, And Lambes reioyce, with passed Winter wearie. Let euery Riuers Ferrie. In waters flow, and siluer streames abounding, And fortune, ceaselesse wounding. (10) Turne now thy face, so cruell and vnstable, Be firme and fauourable. And thou that kill’st our soules with thy pretences: Molest not (wicked Loue) my inward sences.
Let Country plainenes liue in ioyes not ended, (15) In quiet of the desert Meades and mountaines, And in the pleasure of a Country dwelling Let Sheepheards rest, that haue distilled fountaines Of teares: prooue not thy wrath, + all paines excelling, Vpon poore soules, that neuer haue offended. (20) Let thy flames be incendedIn haughtie Courts, in those that swim in treasure, And liue in ease and pleasure. And that a sweetest scorne (my wonted sadnes) A perfect rest and gladnes (25) And hills and Dales, may giue me: with offences Molest not (wicked Loue) my inward sences.
In what law find’st thou, that the freest reason And wit, vnto thy chaines should be subiected, And harmelesse soules vnto thy cruell murder? (30) O wicked Loue, the wretch that flieth furderFrom thy extreames, thou plagu’st. O false, suspected, And carelesse boy, that thus thy sweets doost season, O vile and wicked treason. Might not thy might suffise thee, but thy fuell (35) Of force must be so cruell? To be a Lord, yet like a Tyrant minded, Vaine boy with errour blinded. Why doost thou hurt his life with thy offences: That yeelds to thee his soule and inward sences?