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[XVII. The first part. Wounded I am and dare not seeke reliefe]

Wounded I am and dare not seeke reliefe

Wounded I am and dare not seeke reliefe, for this new stroke vnsene but not vnfelt, no bloud nor bruse is witnes of my griefe, is witnes of my griefe, but sighes, and teares wherewith I mourne and melt, wherwith I mourne and melt, if I complayne, my witnes is suspect, if I containe, with cares I am vndone, sit still and dye, tell truth and be reiect, tell truth and be reiect, O hatefull, O hatefull choyse that sorow cannot shunne, that sorow cannot shun.