Y Et once againe my muse I pardon pray, Thine intermitted song if I repeate: Not in such wise as when loue was my pay, My ioly wo with ioyfull verse to treate. (5) But now (vnthanke to our desert be geuen, Which merite not a heauens gift to kepe) Thou must with me bewaile that fate hath reuen, From earth a iewel laied in earth to slepe, A iewel yea a gemme of womanhed, (10) Whose perfect vertues linked as in chaine: So did adorne that humble wiuelyhed, As is not rife to finde the like againe. For wit and learnyng framed to obey, Her husbandes wil that willed her to vse (15) The loue he bare her chiefely as a staye, For al her frendes that wold her furtherance chuse Wel said therfore a heauens gift she was, Because the best are sonest hence bereft: And though her self to heauen hence dyd passe, (20) Her spoyle to earth from whence it came she left. And to vs teares her absence to lament, And eke his chance that was her make by law: Whose losse to lose so great an ornament, Let them esteme which true loues knot can draw.
That eche thing is hurt of
it self. +
W Hy fearest thou thy outward fo, When thou thy selfe thy harme dost fede, Of grief, or hurt, of paine or wo. Within eche thing is sowen the sede. (5) So fine was neuer yet the cloth, No smith so hard his yron did beate: But thone consumed was with moth, Thother with canker all to freate.The knotty oke and wainscot old, (10) Within doth eate the silly worme: Euen so a minde in enuy rold, Alwaies within it self doth burne.