By gatheringe it in our false treacherous eye.
Love is nor you, nor you; but I a balme,
Sword to the stiff, unto the wounded balme.
Prayes noe thinge adds, if it be infinite,
30If it be nothing, who can lessen it?
To my Lord of Pembroke. A25, Chambers
3 confess; Ed: confess A25
5 disdaines, Ed: disdaines A25
6 fly? Ed: fly; A25
19 tame, Ed: tame A25