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.