Tosse not my soule, O love twixt hope and feare,
Shew mee some ground where I may firmely stand or surely fall,
I care not which apeare, So one will close me in a certaine band.
When once of ill the uttermost is knowen,
The strength of sorrow quite is over throwne.
Take mee Assurance to thy blisfull holde,
Or thou Despaire unto thy darkest Cell,
Each hath full rest, the on in joyes en rolde,
Th'other, in that hee feares no more, is well:
When once of ill the uttermost is knowen,
The strength of sorrow quite is over throwne.
