I speak, fair Licia, what my torments be, But then my speech too partial do I find; For hardly words can with those thoughts agree, Those thoughts that swarm in such a troubled mind. Then do I vow my tongue shall never speak Nor tell my grief that in my heart doth lie; But cannon-like, I then surcharged do break, And so my silence worse than speech I try. Thus speech or none, they both do breed my care; I live dismayed, and k** my heart with grief; In all respects my case alike doth fare To him that wants, and dare not ask relief. Then you, fair Licia, sovereign of my heart, Read to yourself my anguish and my smart.