For when death did take away
All my glory and content,
That it might the more torment,
It allowed my life to stay.
Evil comes, and hastily
With such swiftness good doth go,
That life findeth cause of woe
In that death doth pass it by.
MARS.
In my dread and grievous woe
Now are wanting to my eyes
Tears, and breath unto my sighs,
Should my troubles greater grow,
For ingratitude, disdain,
Hold me in their toils so fast
That from death I hope at last
Longer life and greater gain.
Little can it linger now,
Since are wanting to my eyes
Tears, and breath unto my sighs,
Should my troubles greater grow.
ORFENIO.
If it could, my joy should be
Truly all things else above:
If but jealousy were love,
And if love were jealousy.
From this transformation I
So much bliss and pride should gain
That of love I would attain
To the palm and victory.
If 'twere so, then jealousy
Would so much my champion prove,
That, if jealousy were love,
Nothing I save love should be.