My God, my God, I do now listless roam:

An haughty mistress did I take;

She bids me now to come.

My tomb I make:

Deep-hewn, inlaid with woes.

At my long task I am a fake:

Too quick did I on me a mate impose:

With love I cannot serve her well;

Her beauty is too high.

My loves, farewell!

My fright has left you lone.

I cannot now my duty quell,

Nor it fulfill with loathsome heart of stone.