[sig. Qiiiir]
Or who delightes so swift to swim, As doth the fish that scapes the hoke, (35) If these had neuer entred wo: How mought they haue reioysed so. But yet alas ye louers all, That here me ioy thus lesse reioyce, Iudge not amis what so befall. (40) In me there lieth no power of choyse, It is but hope that doth me moue: Who standerd bearer is to loue. On whose ensigne when I behold, I see the shadow of her shape, (45) Within my faith so fast I fold: Through drede I die, through hope I scape, Thus ease and wo full oft I finde, What will you more she knoweth my minde.