The flaming sighes that boyle within my Brest

The flaming sighes that boyle within my Brest
Sometime breake forth ; and they can well declare
The hartes unrest, and how that it doth fare,
The pain therof, the grief, and all the rest.
The watred eyen, from whence the teares doe fall.
Do fele some force or els they would be drye :
The wasted flesh of color ded can trye.
And something tell what swetenesse is in gall.
And he that luste to see, and do disarne.
How care can force within a weried minde,
Come he to me : — I am that place assynd.
But for all this no force it doth no harme ;
The wound alas happe in some other place,
From whence no toole away the skar can race.
But you, that of such like have had your part.
Can best be judge : wherefore, my frend so deare,
I thought it good my state should now appeare
To you, and that ther is no great desart.
And wher as you, in weighty matters great
Of fortune saw the shadow that you know :
For trifling thinges, I now am striken so;
That though I fele my hart doth wound and beat,
I sit alone, save on the second day
My fever comes, with whom I spend the time
In burning heat while that she list assigne.
And who hath helth and libertie alway
Let him thank God, and let him not provoke
To have the like of this my painfull stroke.