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The EKATOMPATHIA[Greek] Or Passionate Centurie of Loue

Diuided into two parts: whereof, the first expresseth the Authors sufferance in Loue: the latter, his long farewell to Loue and all his tyrannie. Composed by Thomas Watson

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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IIII. 
 V. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIIII. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIIII. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIIII. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIIII. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
 LI. 
 LII. 
 LIII. 
 LIIII. 
 LV. 
 LVI. 
 LVII. 
 LVIII. 
 LIX. 
 LX. 
 LXI. 
 LXII. 
 LXIII. 
 LXIIII. 
 LXV. 
 LXVII. 
 LXVIII. 
 LXIX. 
 LXX. 
 LXXI. 
 LXXII. 
 LXXIII. 
 LXXIIII. 
 LXXV. 
 LXXVI. 
 LXXVII. 
 LXXVIII. 
 LXXIX. 
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 LXXXI. 
 LXXXII. 
 LXXXIII. 
 LXXXIIII. 
 LXXXV. 
 LXXXVI. 
 LXXXVII. 
 LXXXVIII. 
 LXXXIX. 
 XCI. 
 XCII. 
 XCIII. 
XCIII.
 XCIIII. 
 XCV. 
 XCVI. 
 XCVII. 
 XCVIII. 
 XCIX. 
 C. 



XCIII.

[My loue is past, woe woorth the day and how'r]

In the first and sixt line of this Passion the Authour alludeth to two sentencious verses in Sophocles; whereof the first is,

ω μωρε, θυμος δ' εν κακοις ου συμφορον,,

In Oedipo Colonæo.


O foole, in euills fretting nought auailes. The second,
το γαρ

In Trachiniis.


φανθεν τις αν δυναιτ' αγενητος ποιειν..
For who can make vndon what once is done?

In the other two staffes following, the Authour pursueth on his matter, beginning and ending euery line with the selfe same sillable he vsed in the first: wherein hee imitateth some Italian Poets, who more to trie their witts, hen for any other conceite, haue written after the like manner.

My loue is past, woe woorth the day and how'r
When to such folly first I did encline,
Whereof the very thought is bitter sow'r,
And still would hurte, were not my soule diuine,
Or did not Reason teach, that care is vaine
For ill once past, which cannot turne againe.
My Loue is past, blessed the day and how'r.
When from so fond estate I did decline,
Wherein was little sweet with mickle sow'r,
And losse of minde, whose substance is diuine,
Or at the lest, expence of time in vaine,
For which expence no Loue returneth gaine.
My Loue is past, wherein was no good how'r:
When others ioy'd, to cares I did encline,
Whereon I fedde, although the taste were sow'r,
And still beleu'd Loue was some pow'r diuine,
Or some instinct, which could not worke in vaine,
Forgetting, Time well spent was double gaine.