 | Ivvenilia |  |
[Eleg. 1.]
Now that beloved Henries glasse is run,And others duties to his body shown;
Now that his sad-sad Obsequies be done,
And publike sorrows well-nigh over-blown:
Now give me leave to leave all joyes at one
For a dull melancholy lonelinesse;
To pine my selfe with a selfe-pining moan,
And fat my griefe with solitarinesse.
For if it be a comfort in distresse,
(As some think) to have sharers in our woes,
Then my desire is to be comfortlesse,
My soule in publike griefe no pleasure knows.)
Yea, I could wish, and for that wish would die,
That there were none had cause to grieve but I.
| Ivvenilia | |