By Lady Mary Wroth

You endless torments that my rest opress,
How long will you delight in my sad pain?
Will never love your favour more express?
Shall I still lie, and ever feel disdain?
Alas, now stay, and let my grief obtain
Some end; feed not my heart with sharp distress:
Let me once see my cruel fortunes gain,
At least release, and long-felt woes redress.
Let not the blame of cruelty disgrace
The honor'd title of your god-head Love;
Give not just cause for me say, a place to
Is found for rage alone on me to move.
O quickly end, and do not long debate
My needful aid, lest help do come too late.