54.
To you therefore ye heau’ns, whose cheerefull face
With mortall eyes I neuer more shall see,
To you and all your powers I crie for grace:
Let me, ah let me now no longer be,
But by swift death from foes do set me free:
My dayes be ouer long, for death I crie,
End then my dayes (O God) and let me die.
55.
Wanting the salue of patience, wherewithall