Thus kiss I Your fair hands, taking my leave,
40As prisoners at the bar their doom receive.
All joys go with You: let sweet peace attend
You on the way, and wait Your journey's end.
But let Your discontents and sourer fate
Remain with me, borne off in my retrait.
Might all your crosses, in that sheet of lead
Which folds my heavy heart, lie buried:
'Tis the last service I would do You, and the best
My wishes ever meant, or tongue profest.