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PASSION. XIX. (Book 19)
YF fortunes crosse be bitter to endure,
That frets the minde which tasteth her despite,
The same being past, when changes new procure,
Some offer which might wearied mind delight,
But that fore-chance, his latter fate preuent,
Then will he rue the fruite of fond intent.
The freeman thinkes it small for to be bound,
Not knowing then the daunger which ensues,
But freedome lost dispaire doth straight confound,
Confused thoughts, which bring vntimely newes,
For bondage come, and libertie being lost,
What is the the thing whereof we then can boast.
Who would not seeme for to condemne his eye,
That first did lust, and heart that gaue consent,
When fruite thereof proues seede of miserie,
But more when as some kindly glaunces lent,
Yeilde constant hope if that his minde were free,
Some better happe in time obtain'd might bee.
You iudges of my heauie dolefull song,
To whose g•…•…e doomes my selfe I doe submit,
Yf worth, may not obtaine his worth; tis wrong,
Such is the fate of those which dayly flit:
Such was my cha•…•…ce to make my prime•…•… choise,
That to be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I onely might reioyce.