Mary Wroth
Sweet shades why do you seek to give delight
To me who deem delight in this vile place
But torment, sorrow, and mine own disgrace
To taste of joy, or your vain pleasing sight;
Show them your pleasures who saw never night
Of grief, where joying's fawning, smiling face
Appears as day, where grief found never space
Yet for a sigh, a groan, or envy's spite;
But O, on me a world of woes doe lie,
Or else on me all harms strive to rely,
And to attend like servants bound to me,
Heat in desire, while frosts of cares I prove,
Wanting my love, yet surfeit do with love,
Burn, and yet freeze, better in hell to be.