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Poem	THe loue which me so cruelly tormenteth, So pleasing is in my extreamest paine: that all the more my sorrow it augmenteth, the more I loue and doe embrace my bane. Ne doe I wish (for wishing were but vaine) to be acquit fro my continuall smart: but ioy her thrall for euer to remayne, and yield for pledge my poore captyued hart The which that it from her may neuer start, let her, yf please her, bynd with adamant chayne: and from all wandring loues which mote peruart, his safe assurance strongly it restrayne. Onely let her abstaine from cruelty, and doe me not before my time to dy.
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