My Love, my Sweet, mine royalty,
No kings compare to thee in slight,
My Love, my Sweet, mine summer-night,
In me thee worshipp’d loyalty.

If oceans wide, thee hart (as fate),
More love than Genesis contain’d,
And if mine life enjoys me pain’d,
Thee kindness makes mine sorrow fade.

But alas, my Muse, of love and hell,
Doth send me silver darts laced toxin,
Mine thoughts’ cut wound doth dwell.

And thus my misery mix’d concoction,
waits and brews and boils and simmers,
while mine brain doth break and dimmers.