VII
[Al my wits hath will inwrapped]
[1]
Al my wits hath will inwrapped,
All my sence desire in trapped.
Al my faith to fancy fixed,
All my ioyes to loue a mixed.
All my loue I offer thee,
Once for all yet looke on me.
2
Let me see thy heauenly feature,
Oh heauens what a heauenly Creature,
All the powers of heauen preserue thee,
Loue himselfe is sworne to serue thee,
Princesse in a Goddes place,
Blessed be that Angels face.
3
Looke how loue thy seruant dyeth,
Harke how hope for comfort crieth,
Take some pitty on poore fancy,
Let not fancie proue a franzie;
Comfort this poore hart of mine,
Loue and I and all are thine.