Where shall I refuge seeke

Where shall I refuge seeke, if you refuse mee?

In you my hope, in you my fortune lyes,

In you my life, though you vniust accuse me,

My seruice scorn, and merit vnderprise:

O bitter griefe, that exile is become

Reward for faith, and pittie deafe and dumbe.

Why should my firmnesse finde a seate so wau'ring?

My simple vowes, my loue you entertain'd;

Without desert the same againe disfau'ring;

Yet I my word and passion hold vnstain'd.

Oh wretched me, that my chiefe ioy should breede

My onely griefe and kindnesse pitty neede!