(15) To sound that wit, that doth amaze the wise, To know that sence, no sence can vnderstand, To vnderstande that all the world may know, Such wit, such sence, eies, hands, there are no moe.
W Ho list to heare the sum of sorrowes state, +The depth of dole, wherein a minde may dwell, The loathed life, that happie harts may hate, The saddest tale, that euer toong could tell, (5) But reade this verse, and say who wrote the same, Doth onely dwell, where comfort neuer came.
A carefull head, first crost with crooked hap, A wofull wit, bewitcht with wretched will, A clyming hart, falne downe from Fortunes lap, (10) A bodie borne, to loose his labour still, A mourning minde, sore mated with despite, May serue to shewe, the lacke of my delite.
Yet more than this, a hope still founde in vaine, A vile dispaire, that speakes but of distresse, (15) A forst content, to suffer deadly paine, A paine so great, as can not get redresse, Will all affirme, my sum of sorrow such, As neuer man, that euer knew so much.
A S rare to heare, as seldome to be seene, +It can not be, nor euer yet hath beene, That fire should burne, with perfect heate and flame, Without some matter for to yeeld the same.
(5) A straunger case, yet true by proofe I knowe, A man in ioye, that liued still in woe, Burnt with desire, and doth posses at will, Enioying all, yet all desiring still.