When those renoumed noble Peres of Greece,
thrugh stubborn pride amongst themselues did jar
forgetfull of the famous golden fleece,
then Orpheus with his harp theyr strife did bar.
But this continuall cruell civill warre,
the which my selfe against my selfe doe make:
whilest my weak powres of pa**ions warreid arre,
no sk** can stint nor reason can aslake.
But when in hand my tunelesse harp I take,
then doe I more augment my foes despight:
and griefe renew, and pa**ions doe awake,
to battaile fresh against my selfe to fight.
Mongst whome the more I seeke to settle peace,
the more I fynd their malice to increace.