V.
IF what is heavy craves the Centre base; The earth below, as Nature wills the same: Heavy the woeful griefs are, in this case, Which inward in my heart I do sustain. And if what's light, by kind, aloft doth mount: Then light's my love with thee, of light account. So that in doubtful dangerous extreme, Wretch that I am! myself am sore afraid: And doubt of thee, so far from Golden Mean; Nor know I well out of this depth to wade. Lest that my life be shortened, or I die; Whether it heavy, falls; or light, ascends on high.
VI.
LAdy, what time I seek in mournful note To show mine agonies and bloody moan, My Voice doth fail; and hoarse and harsh my throat: And this doth come through you, through you alone. The whilst I think, by means of you in Song, To mitigate some part of this my smart; Instead thereof, you do me double wrong: And with a glance you take away my Heart. So that I find great hurt by this your theft: Since where, before but Voice, now Heart, 's bereft.
VII.