Sonnet XXXII: Yeares, months, daies, houres, in sighes I

Yeares, months, daies, houres, in sighes I sadlie spend,
I blacke the night, wherein I sleeplesse tosse:
I love my griefs, yet wish them at an end,
Thus tymes expence, encreaseth but my losse.
I musing stand, and woonder at my love:
That in so faire, should be a heart of steele:
And then I thinke, my fancie to remove:
But then more painfull, I my passions feele.
Thus must I love (sweet faire) untill I die,
And your unkindnesse, doth my love encrease;
I conquerd am, I can it not denie:
My lyse must end, yet shall my love not cease.
Then heavens, make Licia faire, most kind to me:
Or with my life, my loue may finisht be.