Fauours are so farre sweete as there remaines
Place for requitall; but if past that Place
They grow to great Hearts, but to bee great paines;
Which lothe such Loue, and grudge at so much grace .
This happily (deere Sweete ) you thinke vpon
When your deere graces on me dropping bee:
Who make them fall with such small effusion,
Lest they should cause the like effect in mee
But you (o mee!) do quite my Hart mistake:
For, you haue made it poore, and hardly liues:
Which loues you more, the more of it you make:
For Fauours excesse hardly it relliues:
Then o, wise Faire , my poore Hart fauour still,
Sith still it liues, by hope , that so you will.