Raging and violent is this cruel distress,
And yet withal so long doth it endure,
That, ere it endeth, endeth steadfastness,
And even life's career, wretched and poor;
Death, jealousy, disdain, and fickleness,
An unkind, angry heart, do not assure
Such torment, nor inflict wounds so severe,
As doth this ill, whose very name is fear.
Fearful it were, did not a grief, so fierce
As this, produce in me such mortal grief;
And yet it is not mortal, since my years
End not, though I am absent from my life;
But I'll no more my woeful song rehearse,
For to such swains, in charm and wisdom chief,
As those I see before me, 'twill be right
That I should show to see them more delight.
OROMPO.
Delight thy presence gives us, Crisio friend,
And more, because thou comest at an hour,
When we our ancient difference may end.
CRISIO.
If it delights thee, come, let us once more
Begin, for in Marsilio of our strife
A righteous judge we have to plead before.
MARS.
Clearly ye show and prove your error rife,
Wherewith ye twain are so besotted, drawn
By the vain fancy that rules o'er your life,
Since ye wish that the sorrows ye bemoan,
Although so small, should be to mine preferred,
Bewailed enough, and yet so little known.
But that it may by earth and Heaven be heard,
How far your sorrows fall below the pain
That hath my soul beset and hope deferred,