Songes and sonettes, written by the right honorable Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other

The louer declareth his paines to excede far the paines of hell.

THe soules that lacked grace, Which lye in bitter paine: Are not in such a place, As foolish folke do faine. Tormented all with fire, And boile in leade againe, With serpents full of ire, Stong oft with deadly paine. Then cast in frosen pittes: To freze there certaine howers: And for their painfull fittes, Apointed tormentours. No no it is not so, Their sorow is not such: And yet they haue of wo, I dare say twise as much. Which comes because they lack The sight of the godhed, And be from that kept back Where with are aungels fed This thing know I by loue Through absence crueltie, Which makes me for to proue Hell pain before I dye.

There is no tong can tell My thousand part of care Ther may no fire in hell, With my desire compare. No boyling leade can pas My scalding sighes in hete: Nor snake that euer was, With s••inging can so frete A true and tender hert, As my thoughtes da••ly doe, ••o that I know but smart, And that which longes thereto. O Cupid Uenns son, As thou hast showed thy might. And hast this conquest woon, Now end the same aright. And as I am thy slaue, Contented with all this: So helpe me soone to haue My parfect earthly blisse.