A heart it was, bound in with diamonds—
And threw it towards thy land: the sea received it,
And so I wish’d thy body might my heart:
110 And even with this I lost fair England’s view
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart
And call’d them blind and dusky spectacles,
For losing ken of Albion’s wished coast.
How often have I tempted Suffolk’s tongue,
115 The agent of thy foul inconstancy,
[♦] To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did