The mournful Lover to his Heart with Complaint that it will not break

COMFORT thyself, my woful heart,

Or shortly on thyself thee wreak;

For length redoubleth deadly smart;

Why sigh’st thou, heart! and wilt not break?

To waste in sighs were piteous death;

Alas! I find thee faint and weak.

Enforce thyself to lose thy breath;

Why sigh’st thou, heart! and wilt not break?

Thou knowest right well that no redress

Is thus to pine; and for to speak,

Perdie! it is remediless;

Why sigh’st thou then, and wilt not break?

It is too late for to refuse

The yoke, when it is on thy neck!

To shake it off, vaileth not to muse;

Why sigh’st thou then, and wilt not break?

To sob, and sigh it were but vain,

Since there is none that doth it reck;

Alas! thou dost prolong thy pain;

Why sigh’st thou then, and wilt not break?

Then in her sight to move her heart

Seek on thyself, thyself to wreak,

That she may know thou suffered’st smart;

Sigh there thy last, and therewith break.