O Gods! that euer anie thing so sweete,
    So suddenlie should fade awaie, and fleete! 
  Hir armes are spread, and I am all unarm’d,
    Lyke one with Ouid’s cursed hemlocke charm’d; 124

  So are my Limms unwealdlie for the fight
    That spend their strength in thought of hir delight. 
  What shall I doe to shewe my self a man? 
    It will not be for ought that beawtie can. 128

  I kisse, I clap, I feele, I view at will,
    Yett dead he lyes, not thinking good or ill. 
  “Unhappie me,” quoth shee, “and wilt’ not stand? 
    Com, lett me rubb and chafe it with my hand! 132

  Perhaps the sillie worme is labour’d sore,
    And wearied that it can doe noe more;
  If it be so, as I am greate a-dread,
    I wish tenne thousand times that I were dead. 136

  How ere it is, no meanes shall want in me,
    That maie auaile to his recouerie.” 
  Which saide, she tooke and rould it on hir thigh,
    And when she look’t on’t, she would weepe and sighe; 140

  She dandled it, and dancet it up and doune,
    Not ceasing till she rais’d it from his swoune. 
  And then he flue on hir as he were wood,
    And on hir breeche did hack and foyne a-good; 144

  He rub’d, and prickt, and pierst her to the bones,
    Digging as farre as eath he might for stones;
  Now high, now lowe, now stryking shorte and thicke;
    Now dyuing deepe, he toucht hir to the quicke; 148

  Now with a gird he would his course rebate,
    Straite would he take him to a statlie gate;
  Plaie while him list, and thrust he neare so hard,
    Poore pacient Grissill lyeth at hir warde, 152

  And giue’s, and takes, as blythe and free as Maye,
    And ere-more meete’s him in the midle waye. 
  On him hir eyes continualy were fixt;
    With hir eye-beames his melting looke’s were mixt, 156

  Which, like the Sunne, that twixt two glasses plaies,
    From one to th’ other cast’s rebounding rayes. 
  He, lyke a starre that, to reguild his beames
    Sucks-in the influence of Phebus streames, 160

  Imbathes the lynes of his descending light
    In the bright fountaines of hir clearest sight. 
  She, faire as fairest Planet in the skye,
    Hir puritie to noe man doeth denye; 164

  The verie chamber that enclouds her shine
    Lookes lyke the pallace of that God deuine,
  Who leades the daie about the Zodiake,
    And euerie euen discends to th’oceane lake; 168

  So fierce and feruent is her radiance,
    Such fyrie stakes she darts at euerie glance
  As might enflame the icie limmes of age,
    And make pale death his seignedrie to aswage; 172