Afflicts this woeful life, and with continual rage
Torments ten thousand ways my miserable breast?
O greedy envious heaven! what needed thee to have
Enriched with such a jewel this unhappy age;
To take it back again so soon? Alas, when shall
Mine eyes see ought that may content them, since thy grave
My only treasure hides, the joy of my poor heart?
As here with thee on earth I lived, even so equal
Methinks it were, with thee in heaven I did abide:
And as our troubles all, we here on earth did part;