XXXI

    Tongue, never cease to sing Fidessa’s praise;
      Heart, however she deserve conceive the best;
      Eyes, stand amazed to see her beauty’s rays;
      Lips, steal one kiss and be for ever blest;
    Hands, touch that hand wherein your life is closed;
      Breast, lock up fast in thee thy life’s sole treasure;
      Arms, still embrace and never be disclosed;
      Feet, run to her without or pace or measure;
    Tongue, heart, eyes, lips, hands, breast, arms, feet,
      Consent to do true homage to your Queen,
      Lovely, fair, gentle, wise, virtuous, sober, sweet,
      Whose like shall never be, hath never been! 
    O that I were all tongue, her praise to shew;
    Then surely my poor heart were freed from woe!

    XXXII

    Sore sick of late, nature her due would have,
      Great was my pain where still my mind did rest;
      No hope but heaven, no comfort but my grave,
      Which is of comforts both the last and least;
    But on a sudden, the Almighty sent
      Sweet ease to the distressed and comfortless,
      And gave me longer time for to repent,
      With health and strength the foes of feebleness;
    Yet I my health no sooner ’gan recover,
      But my old thoughts, though full of cares, retained,
      Made me, as erst, become a wretched lover
      Of her that love and lovers aye disdained. 
    Then was my pain with ease of pain increased,
    And I ne’er sick until my sickness ceased.

    XXXIII

    He that would fain Fidessa’s image see,
      My face of force may be his looking-glass. 
      There is she portrayed and her cruelty,
      Which as a wonder through the world must pass. 
    But were I dead, she would not be betrayed;
      It’s I, that ’gainst my will, shall make it known. 
      Her cruelty by me must be bewrayed,
      Or I must hide my head and live alone. 
    I’ll pluck my silver hairs from out my head,
      And wash away the wrinkles of my face;
      Closely immured I’ll live as I were dead,
      Before she suffer but the least disgrace. 
    How can I hide that is already known? 
    I have been seen and have no face but one.

    XXXIV

    Fie pleasure, fie!  Thou cloy’st me with delight;
      Sweet thoughts, you kill me if you lower stray! 
      O many be the joys of one short night! 
      Tush, fancies never can desire allay! 
    Happy, unhappy thoughts!  I think, and have not. 
      Pleasure, O pleasing pain!  Shows nought avail me! 
      Mine own conceit doth glad me, more I crave not;
      Yet wanting substance, woe doth still assail me. 
    Babies do children please, and shadows fools;
      Shows have deceived the wisest many a time. 
      Ever to want our wish, our courage cools. 
      The ladder broken, ’tis in vain to climb. 
    But I must wish, and crave, and seek, and climb;
    It’s hard if I obtain not grace in time.