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Yet life's strong love doth so intoxicate
Our misty minds, that we do fear to dy.
What did dame Nature brood all things of hate
And onely give them life for misery?
Sense for an undeserved penalty?
And show that if she list, that she could make
Them happy? but with sprightfull cruelty
Doth force their groaning ghosts this house forsake?
And to their ancient Nought their empty selves betake.

Thus in deep sorrow and restlesse disdain
Against the cankered doom of envious fate,
I clove my very heart with riving pain,
While I in sullen rage did ruminate
The Creature's vanity and wofull state;
And night that ought to yield us timely rest,
My swelling griefs did much more aggravate:
The sighs and groans of weary sleeping beast
Seem'd as if sleep itself their spirits did molest:

Or as constrain'd perforce that boon to wrest
From envious Nature. All things did augment
My heavy plight, that fouly I blam'd the hest
Of stubborn destiny cause of this wayment.
Even sleep that's for our restauration meat,
As execrable thing I did abhorre,
Cause ugly death to th' life it did depeint.
What good came to my mind I did deplore,
Because it perish must and not live evermore.