Sonet 20

Vnhappie ghost go waile thy griefe below,
Where neuer soule but endlesse horror sees,
Dismaske thy mind amongst the mirtle trees,
Which here I see thou art asham'd to show;
This breast that such a fierie breath doth blow,
Must haue of force some flood those flames to freeze.
And ô that drowsie Lethe best agrees,
To quench these euils that come, because I know
Since she whom I haue harbour'd in my heart,
Will grant me now no portion of her mind,
I die content, because she liues vnkind,
And suffers one whom once she grac'd to smart:
But I lament that I haue liu'd so long,
Lest blaming her, I ere I die do wrong.