2371653O teach me how to make mine owne excuse,

1654Or (at the least) this refuge let me finde,

1655Though my grosse bloud be staind with this abuse,

1656Immaculate, and spotlesse is my mind,

1657That was not forc'd, that neuer was inclind

1658 To accessarie yeeldings, but still pure

1659 Doth in her poyson'd closet yet endure.

2381660Lo heare the hopelesse Marchant of this losse,

1661With head declin'd, and voice dam'd vp with wo,

1662With sad set eyes and wretched armes acrosse,

1663From lips new waxen pale, begins to blow

1664The griefe away, that stops his answer so.

1665 But wretched as he is he striues in vaine,

1666 What he breaths out, his breath drinks vp again.

2391667As through an Arch, the violent roaring tide,

1668Outruns the eye that doth behold his hast:

1669Yet in the Edie boundeth in his pride,

1670Backe to the strait that forst him on so fast:

1671In rage sent out, recald in rage being past,

1672 Euen so his sighes, his sorrowes make a saw,

1673 To push griefe on, and back the same grief draw.