Oh might those sighes and teares return againe
Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent
That I might in this holy discontent
Mourne with some fruit, as I have mourn'd in vaine;
In mine Idolatry what show'rs of rain
Mine eyes did waste? What griefs my heart did rent?
That sufferance was my sinne; now I repent
'Cause I did suffer, I must suffer paine
Th'hydroptique drunkard, and night scouting thief
The itchy lecher and self-tickling proud
Have the remеmbrance of past joyes, for reliеf
Of coming ills. To poore me is allow'd
No ease; for long, yet vehement griefe hath been
Th'effect and cause, the punishment and sinne