W Hat rage is this? what furor? of what kinde? What power, what plage doth wery thus my minde? Within my bones to rankle is assindeWhat poyson pleasant swete? (5) Lo, see, myne eyes flow with continuall teares: The body still away slepelesse it weares: My foode nothing my fainting strength repaires, Nor doth my limmes sustain. In depe wide wound, the dedly stroke doth turne: (10) To cureles skarre that neuer shall returne. Go to: triumph: reioyce thy goodly turne: Thy frend thou doest oppresse. Oppresse thou doest: and hast of him no cure: Nor yet my plaint no pitie can procure. (15) Fierce Tigre, + fell, hard rock without recure: Cruel rebell to Loue, Once may thou loue, neuer beloued again: So loue thou styll, and not thy loue obtain: So wrathfull loue, with spites of iust disdain, (20) May thret thy cruell hart.
The louer blameth his instant
D Esire (alas) my master, and my fo: So sore altered thy self how mayst thou see? Sometime thou sekest, that driues me to and fro. Sometime, thou leadst, that leadeth the and me. (5) what reason is to rule thy subiectes so? By forced law, and mutabilitie. For where by thee I douted to haue blame: Euen now by hate again I dout the same.