24.07.2010, 17:00
He wrote to the same friend from Excester, this Sonet following.
A Hundreth sonnes (in course but not in kind)
Can witnesse well that I possesse no joye:
The feare of death which fretteth in my mind
Consumes my hart with dread of darke anoye.
And for eche sonne a thousand broken sleepes
Devide my dreames with fresh recourse of cares:
The youngest sister sharpe hir sheare she keepes,
To cut my thred, and thus my life it weares.
Yet let such daies, such thousand restlesse nights,
Spit forth their spite, let fates eke showe their force:
Deathes daunting dart where so his buffet lights,
Shall shape no change within my friendly corse:
But dead or live, in heaven, in earth, in hell
I wilbe thine where so my carkase dwell.
A Hundreth sonnes (in course but not in kind)
Can witnesse well that I possesse no joye:
The feare of death which fretteth in my mind
Consumes my hart with dread of darke anoye.
And for eche sonne a thousand broken sleepes
Devide my dreames with fresh recourse of cares:
The youngest sister sharpe hir sheare she keepes,
To cut my thred, and thus my life it weares.
Yet let such daies, such thousand restlesse nights,
Spit forth their spite, let fates eke showe their force:
Deathes daunting dart where so his buffet lights,
Shall shape no change within my friendly corse:
But dead or live, in heaven, in earth, in hell
I wilbe thine where so my carkase dwell.