That death with daily dolours deepe, within my breast doth breede.
I am my Mistresse thrall, and yet I doe not kno,
If she beare me good will at all, or if she loue or no.
My wound is made so large, with bitter wo in brest,
That still my heart prepares a place to lodge a carefull guest.
O dame that hath my lyfe and death at thy desire.
Come ease my mind, wher fancies flames doth burne like Ethna fire,
For wanting thee my life is death and doleful cheere,
And finding fauor in thy sight, my dayes are happy heere.
Then he began to sigh so terribly, as if already she had geuen sentence, and difinitiue Iudgement of his farewell, and disputed with his fellow in sutch sort, and wyth Opinion so assured of hys contempt, as if he had bene in loue with some one of the Infants of Spayne: for which cause he began very pitifully to sing these verses.