So let us, which this chaunge of weather vew, Chaunge eke our mynds, and former lives amend; The old yeares sinnes forepast let us eschew, And fly the faults with which we did offend.

That in nought else on earth they can delight, But in th'aspect of that felicitie Which they have written in theyr inward ey; 285 On which they feed, and in theyr fastened mynd All happie ioy and full contentment fynd.

The laurel-leafe which you this day doe weare Gives me great hope of your relenting mynd:

The fear whereof, O how doth it torment His troubled mynd with more then hellish paine!

I will, if shee persist to proove thus kind, If not to speeke my thoughts, to wryte my mynd.