[XVIII. For verie griefe I dye]
For verie griefe I dye, if that you shew not in
your fayre eyes, some signe of grace & pittie, For verie
griefe I dye, if that you shew not in your fayre eyes, some signe of grace and pittie,
Hate beares a sway so mightie, Hate beares a sway so mightie,
That what to doe I know not, But pine with outward anguish,
And for your owne sweet sake, my hart doth languish.
That what to doe I know not, But pine with outward anguish, And
for your owne sweet sake, my hart doth languish. And
for your owne sweet sake, my hart doth languish.
