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 dimmed

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 cans't not o'ercome her will

Thy love will be thus fruitless ever

Wilt thou be thus abused still

Seeing that she will right thee never

If thou cans't not o'ercome her will

Thy 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 yield to that which reason is

It is reason's will that love should be just

Dear

Make me happy still by granting this

Or cut off delays if that I die 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 contented

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 contented