Homage to loue, dutie to thee my deare,
Deare mistris of my thoughts, Queene of my ioy:
Then my lifes gratious planet bright appeare,
My hearts deepe griefe and sorrow to destroy.
Be not (I thee beseech) my cares maintainer:
For in thy power it lyes to saue or strike,
To kill the griefe, or els the griefes retainer,
With loue or hate the infant of dislike.
O if that cruell loue did not command
To slay my heart without remorse or pitie:
Or if he did that sad doome countermand,
And be a gratious Queene of gentle mercie:
Sweet shew thy selfe diuine in being pitifull,
For nature of the gods is to be mercifull.