Go, Passions, to the cruel fair

Go, Passions, to the cruel fair,

Plead my sorrows never ceasing;

Tell her those smiles are empty air,

Growing hopes but not increasing,

Hasting, wasting, with swift pace,

Date of joy in dull disgrace.

Urge her but gently, I request,

With breach of faith and wrack of vows;

Say that my grief and mind's unrest

Lives in the shadow of her brows,

Plying, flying, there to die

In sad woe and misery.

Importune pity at the last,

(Pity in those eyes should hover);

Recount my sighs and torments past

As annals of a constant lover

Spending, ending, many days

Of blasted hopes and slack delays.