[Fie tedious Hope, why doe you still rebell?]
Fie tedious Hope, why doe you still rebell?
Is it not yet enough you flatter’d me,
But cunningly you seeke to use a Spell
How to betray; must these your Trophees bee?
I look’d from you farre sweeter fruite to see,
But blasted were your blossomes when they fell:
And those delights expected from hands free,
Wither’d and dead, and what seemd blisse proves hell.
No Towne was won by a more plotted slight,
Then I by you, who may my fortune write,
In embers of that fire which ruin’d me:
Thus Hope your falshood calls you to be tryde,
You’r loth, I see, the tryall to abide;
Prove true at last, and gaine your liberty.
