If euer wofull wight had cause, to pipe in bitter smart,
I which am thrall to Cupids lawes, with him may beare a part.
Whose ioyful dayes alas, are gone; whom daily cares doe tosse,
But wote yee why I thus take on? my lucke is turnde to losse.
Ere cruell loue my heart possest, no cares did vexe my head,
But since he harboured in my brest, my golden dayes are fled.
Time was when fortune did allow, great gladnesse to my share,
But ah, for that time is not, now doth grow my cause of care.
Time was when I liude in delight and reapt of ioyes my fill:
But now time is, workes me despite, would waste had tarried still.
No hap so hard, no griefe so great, whereof I feele not part,
Now shiuering colde, now flaming heate, anoyes my wofull heart.
So that hope is the onely stay, on which my life dependes,
Which if it once be tane away, my date of liuing ends.
God graunt my hope, such hap may see, that good successe ensue,
Which if it long prolonged be, through griefe I die, adiew.