'Twixt Hope and Fear, in doubtful balance peazed,
My fate, my fortune, and my love depends.
Sometimes my Hope is raised, when Love is pleased;
Which Fear weighs down, when ought his will offends.
The heavens are sometimes clear, and sometimes lower;
And "he that loves, must taste both sweet and sour!"
LV.
Retire, my wandering Thoughts! unto your rest!
Do not, henceforth, consume yourselves in vain!
No mortal man, in all points, can be blest;
What now is mine, may be another's pain.
The watery clouds are clear, when storms are past;
And "things, in their extremes, long cannot last."
LVI.
Visus. Sermo. Tactus.
The fire of Love is first bred in the Eye,
And thence conveys his heat unto the Heart,
Where it lies hid, till time his force descry.
The Tongue thereto adds fuel for his part;
The touch of Lips, which doth succeed the same,
Kindles the rest, and so it proves a flame.
LVII.
The tender Sprigs that sprouted in the field,
And promised hope of fruit to him that planted;
Instead of fruit, doth nought but blossoms yield,
Though care, and pain to prune them never wanted
Even so, my hopes do nought but blossoms prove,
And yield no fruits to recompense my love.
LVIII.
Though little sign of love in show appear;
Yet think, True Love, of colours hath no need!
It's not the glorious garments, which men wear,
That makes them other than they are indeed:
"In meanest show, the most affection dwells;
And richest pearls are found in simplest shells."