The Louer to his carefull bed declaring his restlesse state

THou that wert earst a restfull place
dost now renue my smart,
And woonted eake to salue my sore
that now increasest wo,
Vnto my carefull Corse an ease,
a torment to my hart,
Once quieter of minde perdie,
now an vnquiet fo:
The place sometime of slumbring sléepe
wherein I may but wake,
Drenched in Sea of saltish brine
(O bed) I thée forsake.

No Ise of Apenynus top
my flaming fire may quent,
Ne heate of brightest Phoebus beames
may bate my chillie colde,
Nought is of stately strength ynough
my sorrowes to relent,
But (such is hap) renewed cares
are added to the olde:
Such furious fits and fonde affects
in mée my fansies make,
That bathed all in trickling teares
(O bed) I thée forsake.

The dreames that daunt my dazed hed
are pleasant for a space,
Whilst yet I lie in slumbring sléepe
my carkasse feeles no wo,
For cause I séeme with clasped armes
my Louer to imbrace:
But when I wake, and finde away
that did delight me so,
Then in comes care to pleasures place
that makes my limmes to quake,
That all besprent with brackish bryne
(O bed) I thee forsake.

No sooner stirres Auroras Starre,
the lightest Lampe of all,
But they that rousted were in rest
not fraught with fearefull dreames,
Do pack apace to labours left
and to their taske doe fall:
When I awaking all inragde
doe baine my breast with streames,
And make my smokie sighes to Skies
their vpwarde way to take,
Thus with a surge of teares bedewde
(O bed) I thée forsake.

Thus hurlde from hungrie Hope by Hap
I die, yet am aliue,
From pangues of plaint to fits of fume
my restlesse minde doth runne,
With rage and fansie Reason fights,
they altogither striue,
Resistaunce vayleth naught at all,
for I am quickly wunne:
Thus séeking rest no ruth I finde
that gladsome ioy may make,
Wherefore consumde with flowing teares
(O bed) I thée forsake.