“For certes, Lord, so well us likë you And all your work, and ev’r have done, that we Ne couldë not ourselves devisë how We mightë live in more felicity: Save one thing, Lord, if that your will it be, That for to be a wedded man you lest; Then were your people in sovereign heart’s rest. 2448

“Bowë your neck under the blissful yoke Of sovereignty, and not of servíce, Which that men call espousal or wedlóck: And thinkë, Lord, among your thoughtës wise, How that our dayës pass in sundry wise; For though we sleep, or wake, or roam, or ride, Aye fleeth time, it will no man abide.