(45) Now they languish since refused, Ewes and lambes are paind with pining: I with ewes and lambes confused, All vnto our deathes declining.
Silence leaue thy caue obscured, (50) Daine a dolefull Swaine to tender, Though disdaines I haue endured, Yet I am no deepe offender.
Philips sonne can with his finger, +Hide his scar, it is so little: (55) Little sinne a day to linger, Wise men wander in a tittle.
Trifles yet my Swaine haue turned, Tho my sonne he neuer showeth: Tho I weepe, I am not mourned, (60) Tho I want, no pitie groweth.
Yet for pitie loue my muses, Gentle silence be their couer, They must leaue their wonted vses, Since I leaue to be a Louer.
(65) They shall liue with thee inclosed, I will loath my pen and paper: Art shall neuer be supposed, Sloth shall quench the watching taper.
Kisse them silence, kisse them kindely, (70) Tho I leaue them, yet I loue them: Tho my wit haue led them blindely, Yet my Swaine did once approue them.
I will trauell soiles remoued, Night and morning neuer merie,