!
Richly shalt thou be entombed, since, for thy grave,
Fidessa, fair Fidessa, thou shalt have!

XXIX

Earth, take this earth wherein my spirits languish;
Spirits, leave this earth that doth in griefs retain you;
Griefs, chase this earth that it may fade with anguish;
Spirits, avoid these furies which do pain you!
O leave your loathsome prison; freedom gain you;
Your essence is divine; great is your power;
And yet you moan your wrongs and sore complain you,
Hoping for joy which fadeth every hour.
O spirits, your prison loathe and freedom gain you;
The destinies in deep laments have shut you
Of mortal hate, because they do disdain you,
And yet of joy that they in prison put you.
Earth, take this earth with thee to be enclosed;
Life is to me, and I to it, opposed!

XXX

Weep now no more, mine eyes, but be you drowned
In your own tears, so many years distilled.
And let her know that at them long hath frowned,
That you can weep no more although she willed;
This hap her cruelty hath her allotten,
Who whilom was commandress of each part;
That now her proper griefs must be forgotten
By those true outward signs of inward smart.
For how can he that hath not one tear left him,
Stream out those floods that are due unto her moaning,
When both of eyes and tears she hath bereft him?
O yet I'll signify my grief with groaning;
True sighs, true groans shall echo in the air
And say, Fidessa, though most cruel, is most fair!

XXXI

Tongue, never cease to sing Fidessa's praise;
Heart, however she deserve conceive the best;
Eyes, stand amazed to see her beauty's rays;
Lips, steal one kiss and be for ever blest;
Hands, touch that hand wherein your life is closed;
Breast, lock up fast in thee thy life's sole treasure;
Arms, still embrace and never be disclosed;
Feet, run to her without or pace or measure;
Tongue, heart, eyes, lips, hands, breast, arms, feet,
Consent to do true homage to your Queen,
Lovely, fair, gentle, wise, virtuous, sober, sweet,
Whose like shall never be, hath never been!
O that I were all tongue, her praise to shew;
Then surely my poor heart were freed from woe!

XXXII

Sore sick of late, nature her due would have,
Great was my pain whe