(25) I catch at hope, yet ouertake it neuer: I feede on thought, yet thought doth force my end: I craue repose, yet finde disquiet euer: I scorne aduice, yet counsell is my frend: I will be free, yet feede on thraldome still: (30) I honor wit, yet feede on foolish will.
Mine eies complaine the follies of my hart: My hart laments the errors of mine eie: My thoughts would burie endles things in art: Mine eie, my hart, my thoughts, wend all awrie: (35) Yet of my harmes (ye heauens) the worst is this; I cannot censure what my sorrow is.
My life is death, for no delights are in it: My musike mone, and yet I neuer leaue it: My succour hope, yet can I neuer win it: (40) My gaines report, yet will I not perceiue it: My foode suspect, and yet I cannot flie it: My foe neglect, and yet I meane to trie it.
By day I freeze, I frie, I wish, I wait: By night I loath my rest, and wish for day: (45) Both day and night, my hart with doubts I bait: Weying delight from cause of my decaie: The Vultures that consume my tender brest, Is sweete desire, the cause of my vnrest.
Now what I am, my sorie cheekes disclose: (50) Once what I was, my smiling eies bewraid: Now what I want, coniecture by my woes: Once what I scornd, hath now my hart betraid: Wo’s me, my want of helpe doth well approue, The paines I feele, is euen the pangs of Loue.
(55) Well, be it paine, Loues torments let it be: Let endles thoughts consume my restles braines: