Loves Conqvest

Wer't granted me to choose, How I would end my dayes; Since I this life must loose, It should be in Your praise; For there is no Bayes Can be set aboue you.

S' impossibly I loue You, And for you sit so hie, Whence none may remoue You In my cleere Poesie, That I oft deny You so ample Merit.

The freedome of my Spirit Maintayning (still) my Cause, Your Sex not to inherit, Vrging the Salique Lawes; But your Vertue drawes From me euery due.

Thus still You me pursue, That no where I can dwell, By Feare made iust to You, Who naturally rebell, Of You that excell That should I still Endyte,

Yet will You want some Ryte. That lost in your high praise I wander to and fro, As seeing sundry Waies: Yet which the right not know To get out of this Maze.