Can she excuse my wrongs with Virtue's cloak?
Shall I call her good when she proves unkind?
Are those clear fires which vanish into smoke?
Must I praise the leaves where no fruit I find?
No no: where shadows do for bodies stand
Thou may'st be abus'd if thy sight be dim
Cold love is like to words written on sand
Or to bubbles which on the water swim
Wilt thou be thus abused still
Seeing that she will right thee never?
If thou canst not o'ercome her will
The love will be thus fruitless ever
Was I so base, that I might not aspire
Unto those high joys which she holds from me?
As they are high , so high is my desire:
If she this deny, what can granted be?
If she will yeld to that which reason is
It is Reason's will that Love should be just
Dear make me happy still be granting this
Or cut off delays if that die I must
Better a thousand times to die
Than for to live thus still tormented:
Dear, but remember it was I
Who for thy sake did die contended