Wer't granted me to choose, How I would end my dayes; Since I this Life must loose, It should be in Your praise; For there is no @3Bayes@1 Can be set above you. S'impossibly I love You And for You sit so hie, Whence none may remove You In my cleere Poesie, That I oft deny You so ample Merit. The freedome of my Spirit Maintayning (still) my Cause, Your Sex not to inherit, Urging the @3Salique@1 Lawes; But your Vertue drawes From Me every due. Thus still You me pursue, That no where I can dwell, By Feare made just to You, Who Naturally rebell, Of You that excell That should I still Endyte, Yet will You want some Ryte. That lost in Your high praise I wander to and fro, As seeing sundry Waies: Yet which the right not know To get out of this Maze. |