Stay my thoughts do not aspire,
To vaine hopes of high desire;
See you not all meanes bereft,
To injoye no joye is left,
Yet still me thinkes my thoughts doe say,
Some hopes do live amid dismay.

Hope then once more, hope for joy,
Bury feare which joyes destroy,
Thought hath yet some comfort given,
Which despaire hath from us driven:
Therefore deerely my thoughts cherish,
Never let such thinking perish.

'Tis an idle thing to plaine,
Odder farre to dye for paine;
Thinke and see how thoughts doe rise,
Winning where there noe hope livs;
Which alone is louers treasure,
For by thoughts we love doe measure.

Then kinde thought my fant'sie guide,
Let me never haplesse slide;
Still maintaine thy force in me,
Let me thinking still be free;
Nor leave thy might untill my death,
But let me thinking yeeld up breath.