Tired with all these
For restfull d**h I cry
As to behold
Desert a beggar born
And needy nothing
Trimmed in jolly ty
Tired with all these
From these would i be gone
Save that to die
I leave my love alone
And purest fouth unhappily torsworn
And gilded honour shamefully misplaced
And simple truth miscaled simplicity
Goner - Die.
Goner - Die.