Yet is their hope: Then Love but play thy part
Remember well thy self, and think on me;
Shine in those eyes which conquer'd have my heart;
And see if mine be slack to answer thee:
Lodge in that breast, and pity moving see
For flames which in mine burn in truest smart
Exiling thoughts that touch inconstancy,
Or those which waste not in the constant art,
Watch but my sleep, if I take any rest
For thought of you, my spiritt soe distressed
As pale, and famish'd, I, for mercy cry;
Will you your servant leave? Think but on this;
Who wears love's crown, must not do so amiss,
But seek their good, who on thy force do lie.