Lo, here the impost of a faith entire
Which love doth pay and her disdain extorts;
Behold the message of a chaste desire
Which tells the world how much my grief imports.
These tributary pa**ions, beauty's due,
I send those eyes, the cabinets of love,
That cruelty herself might grieve to view
Th' affliction her unkind disdain doth move,
And how I live, cast down from off all mirth,
Pensive, alone, only but with despair;
My joys, abortive, perish in their birth;
My griefs long lived, and care succeeding care.
This is my state, and Delia's heart is such;
I say no more, I fear I said too much.