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PASSION. XXIX. (Book 29)
FOre'd to endure the burthen of my charge,
Which loades my minde with more then I can beare,
Drench'd in dispaire, rowing'n cares cursed barge,
I trie the foordes which dangers new doe rearo:
Wherein I wade too farre for to returne,
For all in vaine against the pricke I spurne.
Against the pricke I spurne, the more I striue,
The deeper wo•…•… it makes within my minde,
For of true ioye it doth my poore heart shriue,
When feare doth leade and hope doth come behinde,
Thus like the Mer-maide pain'd, I watch deaths dome,
And reereat my selfe with glasse and come.
With glasse and combe I trifle thus the time,
Fit bables for those which are children twise,
The flood of care, late fild with mud and slime,
My swelling heart, which nowe beginns to rise,
Against her banke, and often doth rebell,
When paines extreame do pleasures sappe expell.
You handmaides which doe waite on beauties Queene.
Or rather peeres to beauties excellence,
In my distresse you which so well are seene,
For future harmes now lende your prouidence:
That though I paine, and pine eu•…•…n to my graue,
Yet after I may hope some rest to haue.