Coward, whom nothing but thy power makes strong; Whom Age and Malice bred t'affright the young; Here thou dost tyrannize to that degree, That nothing but my Death will set me free.

Love, that long since hast to thy mighty powre Perforce subdude my poor captived hart, And raging now therein with restlesse stowre*, Doest tyrannize in everie weaker part, Faine would I seeke to ease my bitter smart 5 By any service I might do to thee, Or ought that else might to thee pleasing bee.