Dear Lady of my soule and heart,
I pray thee, with thy gentle art
Come soothe my troubl'd thoughts, and calme
My minde with thy sweet healing balme.
         
When unto thee in sore distresse
I turn, the darknesse that doth press
Upon my heart so bitterly
From thy soules light, doth swiftly flee.
         
My dearest love, thy joyful smile
Shall ease my wearinesse a while;
And for this comfort, thee I give
My hearts true love, whiles I doe live