Which makes the man so much himselfe mistake, To lay the guilt vnto his guiltles frend.
Ladie not so, not feard I found my death,(10) For no desart thus murdered is my minde, And yet before I yeeld my fainting breath, I quite the killer, tho I blame the kinde. +
You kill vnkinde, I die, and yet am true, For at your sight, my wound doth bleede anew. +
S Ought by the world, and hath the world disdain’d, +Is she, my hart, for whom thou doost endure, Vnto whose grace, sith Kings haue not obtaind, Sweete is thy choise, though losse of life be sowre: (5) Yet to the man, whose youth such pains must proue, No better end, than that which comes by Loue. +
Steere then thy course vnto the port of death, Sith thy hard hap no better hap may finde, Where when thou shalt vnlade thy latest breath, (10) Enuie hir selfe shall swim to saue thy minde, Whose bodie sunke in search to gaine that shore, Where many a Prince had perished before.
And yet my hart it might haue been foreseene, Sith skilfull medcins mends each kinde of griefe, (15) Then in my breast full safely hadst thou beene, But thou my hart wouldst neuer me beleeue, Who tolde thee true, when first thou didst aspire, Death was the end of euery such desire.
|H Ir face, +||Hir tong,||Hir wit,|
|So faire,||So sweete,||So sharpe,|
|First bent,||Then drew,||Then hit,|
|Mine eie,||Mine eare,||My hart.|