I grieve and dare not show my discontent;
I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate;
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant;
I seem stark mute, but inwardly do prate.
I am, and am not; I freeze and yet am burned,
Since from myself another self I turned.
My love is like my shadow in the sun-
Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,
Stands, and lies be me, doth what I have done;
His to familiar care doth make me rue it.
No means I find to rid him from my hearts breast,
Till by the end of things it be supressed.
Some gentler passion slide into my mind,
For I am soft, and made of melting snow;
Or be more cruel, Love, and so be kind.
Let me float or sink, be high or low;
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
Or die, and so foret what love ever meant.
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