The Lover sendeth his Complaints and Tears to sue for Grace

PASS forth, my wonted cries,

Those cruel ears to pierce,

Which in most hateful wise

Do still my plaints reverse.

Do you, my tears, also

So wet her barren heart,

That pity there may grow,

And cruelty depart.

For though hard rocks among

She seems to have been bred,

And of the tiger long

Been nourished and fed;

Yet shall not nature change,

If pity once win place;

Whom as unknown and strange

She now away doth chase.

And as the water soft,

Without forcing or strength,

Where that it falleth oft

Hard stones doth pierce at length:

So in her stony heart

My plaints at last shall grave,

And, rigour set apart,

Win grant of that I crave.

Wherefore, my plaints, present

Still so to her my suit,

As ye, through her assent,

May bring to me some fruit.

And as she shall me prove,

So bid her me regard;

And render love for love;

Which is a just reward.