To plead my faith where faith hath no reward, To moue remorse where fauour is not borne : To heape complaints where she doth not regard Were fruitlesse, bootelesse, vaine and yeeld but scorne. I loued her whom all the world admir'de. I was refus'de of her that can loue none : And my vaine hopes which far too high asspir'de Is dead and buri'd and for euer gone. Forget my name since you haue scornde my Loue, And womanlike doe not too late lament : Since for your sake I doe all mischiefe proue. I none accuse nor nothing doe repent. I was as fonde as euer she was faire, Yet lou'd I not more then I now dispaire.