Прочитаний :  124
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Breake now, my heart, and dye!
Breake now, my heart, and dye! Oh no, she may relent.
Let my despaire preuayle ! O stay, hope is not spent.
Should she now fixe one smile on thee, where were despaire?
The losse is but easy, which smiles can repayre.
A stranger would please thee, if she were as fayre.
Her must I loue or none, so sweet none breathes as shee;
The more is my despayre, alas, shee loues not mee:
But cannot time make way for loue through ribs of steele?
The Grecian, inchanted all parts but the heele,
At last a shaft daunted, which his hart did feele.
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