How long shall I in mine affliction morne,
A burthen to my selfe, distress’d in minde:
When shall my interdicted hopes returne,
From out despayre wherein they liue confin’d.
When shall her troubled browe charg’d with disdaine,
Reueale the treasure which her smyles impart:
When shall my faith the happinesse attaine,
To breake the yce that hath congeald her hart.
Vnto her selfe, her selfe my loue dooth sommon,
If loue in her hath any powre to moue:
And let her tell me as she is a woman,
Whether my faith hath not deseru’d her loue.
I knowe she cannot but must needes confesse it,
Yet deignes not with one simple signe t’expresse it.