[XVII. Hope of my hart]
Hope of my hart, oh, wherefore doe the words
Hope of my hart, oh, wherefore doe the words,
Oh, oh, which your sweet tongue affords,
which your sweet tongue affords, no hope impart, no hope impart, impart?
But cruell without measure, To my eternall payne, to my eternall paine, eternall paine,
Still thunder forth disdaine, still thunder forth disdaine, On him whose life,
on him whose life, on him whose life depends vpon your pleasure? vpon your
pleasure, whose life depends vpon your pleasure?
