Текст песни
Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show
That she (dear She) might take some pleasure of my pain
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe
Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain
Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burn'd brain
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay
Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Study's blows
And others' feet still seem'd but strangers in my way
Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes
Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite
"Fool," said my Muse to me, "look in thy heart and write"
