I do confesse my selfe to haue a mate.
13.
“Sith sorrowe so hath seasde vpon my bones,
That nowe too late I doo lament my losse,
And sith no meanes may turne my gastfull grones
To ioyfull glye, sith trouble still doth tosse
Me to and fro, in walteryng waues of woe:
Death is my friend, and life I compt my foe:
Which death though once my feeble fleshe did feare,
Yet now I fayne would feele his murdring speare.