[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.