To M[r]. C[hristopher] B[rooke]

THY friend, whom thy deserts to thee enchain,

Urged by this unexcusable occasion,

Thee and the saint of his affection

Leaving behind, doth of both wants complain.

And let the love I bear to both sustain

No blot nor maim by this division;

Strong is this love which ties our hearts in one,

And strong that love pursued with amorous pain.

But though besides thyself I leave behind

Heaven’s liberal, and the thrice fair sun,

Going to where starved winter aye doth won,

Yet Love’s hot fires, which martyr my sad mind,

Do send forth scalding sighs, which have the art

To melt all ice, but that which walls her heart.