Viii

Of the end and death of his love

Much sorrow in itself my love doth move, More my despair to love a hopeless bliss, My folly most to love whom sure to miss O help me, but this last grief to remove; All pains, if you command, it joy shall prove, And wisdom to seek joy. Then say but this, "Because my pleasure in thy torment is, I do command thee without hope to love!" So when this thought my sorrow shall augment That my own folly did procure my pain, Then shall I say to give myself content, "Obedience only made me love in vain. It was your will, and not my want of wit; I have the pain, bear you the blame of it!"