1 Shall I sue, shall I seeke for grace ? shall I pray shall I proue ? Shall I striue to a heauenly Ioy, with an earthly loue ? Shall I think that a bleeding hart or a wounded eie, Or a sigh can ascend the cloudes, to attaine so hie. 2 Silly wretch forsake these dreames, of a vaine desire, O bethinke what hie regard, holy hopes doe require. Fauour is as faire as things are, treasure is not bought, Fauour is not wonne with words, nor the wish of a thought. 3 Pittle is but a poore defence, for a dying hart, Ladies eies respect no mone, in a meane desert. Shee is to worthie far, for a worth so base, Cruell and but iust is shee, in my iust disgrace. 4 Iustice giues each man his owne though my loue bee iust, Yet will not shee pittie my griefe, therefore die I must. Silly hart then yeeld to die, perish in dispaire, Witnesse yet how faine I die, When I die for the faire.Close