I am two fools, I know
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry;
But where's that wiseman, that would not be I
If she would not deny?
Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea water's fretful salt away
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse

But when I have done so
Some man, his art and voice to show
Doth set and sing my pain;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs
But not of such as pleases when 'tis read
Both are increased by such songs
For both their triumphs so are published
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three;
Who are a little wise, the best fools be