Iv

Weigh but the cause, and give me leave to plain me, For all my hurt, that my heart's queen hath wrought it; She whom I love so dear, the more to pain me, Withholds my right where I have dearly bought it. Dearly I bought that was so slightly rated, Even with the price of blood and body's wasting; She would not yield that ought might be abated, For all she saw my love was pure and lasting, And yet now scorns performance of the passion, And with her presence justice overruleth. She tells me flat her beauty bears no action; And so my plea and process she excludeth. What wrong she doth, the world may well perceive it, To accept my faith at first, and then to leave it.

[This sonnet was Number 8 in Newman's edition of 1591, is found in the editions of '92 and '94, but was omitted thereafter.]