Let all the furies forth, that pine in Hell with payne, (120) Let all their torments come abroad: with lyuing wightes to rayne. Let peace be turnd to war, let all consume with fier, Sith I must dye that once did ioy, and lose that I desier. I hate my life and breath, I hate delighting food, I hate my greefe I hate my death: I hate that doth mee good. (125) I hate the gentill hart: that rueth on my payne, I hate the cruell stubborn sorte, that doth my life disdayne. I hate al sortes of men, that haue their life in price, And those I hate that folow death, esteeming them vnwise I hate those carefull thoughtes that thinke on my sweet fo, (130) I hate my selfe then twice as much: if I forget her so. I hate, what would you more, I wot not what I hate, I wish her dead and layed in graue: I wish her better state. Come wilde and sauadge beastes, stretch forth your cruell pawes, Dismember mee, consume my flesh: imbrew your greedy iawes. (135) Within your entrayles: see a coffin ye prepare, To tombe this carefull corpes that now, vnwillingly I bare. Come lingringe slothful death: that doost the wretch deny To show thy force and ridst the riche, that list not for to dye. Is this the recompence? is this the due reward? (140) Doth loue thus pay his seruants hier? and doth hee thus regard? And doth hee vse to set, the harmles soules on fier, With faire sweet intisinge lookes: to kindle their desier? Fye false loue that hast so decte, with bewty bright, A Lady faire with such vntroth, to worke such cruell spight. (145) And ye that did pursue blinde loue with speedy pace, Restraine your steps example take, of this my wofull case. Let this alone suffise, that in few wordes I say, Who can beware by others harmes, thrice blest and happy they. Beleeue this to bee true: that now too true I proue, (150) But litle troth in womens breast: and fleeting in their loue. God graunt each wight on earth, that serues with faythfull minde, A better hap and that hee may, a truer Mystrisse finde.