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PASSION, XXXII. (Book 32)
SVppose deere Dames you giue me such aduise,
This cannot please the humor of my minde,
For flesh is fraile, and cannot thus dispise,
The thinge whereto our nature is inclin'd:
Nurture may striue, but nature must preuaile;
Well may I trie, yet shall, not misse to faile.
What if I should endeauour to intreat,
Fortune no doubt would heare my carefull crie,
Sweete Fortune then giue care I will repeate,
The totall some of this my miserie:
I want my will, I would what may not be,
Vnlesse thou doest yeilde some reliefe to me.
I seeke no more but quiet to enioy,
Yeilde me my right, and that is all I craue,
Not to dispease I doe my minde imploy,
(With chastest thought) but comforts fruite to haue,
I seeke and sue not to a Goddesse blinde,
But vnto thee in hope some ease to finde.
Some one will reade that knoweth mine intent,
Let such but pause and canuas my desart,
And pittie him which thus his youth hath spent.
Then zealous thought of honour set apart:
Giue all their due and staine not vertues name,
With trifling trash that bringeth but defame.