Ay me, when I alone sit and bemoan me, Of thy hard heart, and my unjust correction, When by myself I sit, and think upon thee, With what sure bonds I'm brought into subjection, Then, then my heart, grieving to be restrain'd, Beats up a loud alarm, to come to thee; If when I think of thee I am so pain'd, What do I then when I thy face do see? Such is my pain, if pains may be believ'd, Griev'd at thy sight, and at thy absence griev'd. |