Vi

Thus long imposed to everlasting plaining, Divinely constant to the worthiest fair, And moved by eternally disdaining, Aye to persever in unkind despair: Because now silence wearily confined In tedious dying and a dumb restraint, Breaks forth in tears from mine unable mind To ease her passion by a poor complaint; O do not therefore to thyself suggest That I can grieve to have immured so long Upon the matter of mine own unrest; Such grief is not the tenour of my song, That 'bide so zealously so bad a wrong. My grief is this; unless I speak and plain me, Thou wilt persever ever to disdain me.