XV.
If I hope, I pine; if I feare, I faint and die;
So betweene hope and feare I desp'rat lie,
Looking for joy to heaven, whence it should come:
But hope is blinde, joy deafe, and I am dumbe.

Yet I speake and crie, but alas with words of wo;
And joy conceives not them that murmure so.
He that the eares of joy will ever pearse
Must sing glad noates, or speake in happier verse.