Long languishing in double malady
Of my harts wound and of my bodies griefe,
There came to me a leach, that would apply
Fit medcines for my bodies best reliefe. 
Vayne man, quoth I, that hast but little priefe*
In deep discovery of the mynds disease;
Is not the hart of all the body chiefe,
And rules the members as it selfe doth please? 
Then with some cordialls seeke for to appease
The inward languor of my wounded hart,
And then my body shall have shortly ease. 
But such sweet cordialls passe physicians art: 
  Then, my lyfes leach! doe you your skill reveale,
  And with one salve both hart and body heale.
[* Priefe, proof, experience.]

LI.

Doe I not see that fayrest ymages
Of hardest marble are of purpose made,
For that they should endure through many ages,
Ne let theyr famous moniments to fade? 
Why then doe I, untrainde in lovers trade,
Her hardnes blame, which I should more commend? 
Sith never ought was excellent assayde
Which was not hard t’atchive and bring to end;
Ne ought so hard, but he that would attend
Mote soften it and to his will allure. 
So do I hope her stubborne hart to bend,
And that it then more stedfast will endure: 
  Only my paines wil be the more to get her;
  But, having her, my ioy wil be the greater.

LII.

So oft as homeward I from her depart,
I go lyke one that, having lost the field,
Is prisoner led away with heavy hart,
Despoyld of warlike armes and knowen shield. 
So doe I now my self a prisoner yield
To sorrow and to solitary paine,
From presence of my dearest deare exylde,
Long-while alone in languor to remaine. 
There let no thought of ioy, or pleasure vaine,
Dare to approch, that may my solace breed;
Bet sudden* dumps**, and drery sad disdayne
Of all worlds gladnesse, more my torment feed. 
  So I her absens will my penaunce make,
  That of her presens I my meed may take.
[* Sudden, Qu. sullen?]
[** Dumps, lamentations.]

LIII.

The panther, knowing that his spotted hyde
Doth please all beasts, but that his looks them fray*,
Within a bush his dreadful head doth hide,
To let them gaze, whylst he on them may pray. 
Right so my cruell fayre with me doth play;
For with the goodly semblance of her hew
She doth allure me to mine owne decay,
And then no mercy will unto me shew. 
Great shame it is, thing so divine in view,
Made for to be the worlds most ornament,
To make the bayte her gazers to embrew: 
Good shames to be to ill an instrument! 
  But mercy doth with beautie best agree,
  As in theyr Maker ye them best may see.
[* Fray, frighten.]

LIV.