"For all things having life, sometime hath quiet rest; The bearing ass, the drawing ox, and every other beast; The peasant, and the post, that serves at all assays; The ship-boy, and the galley-slave, have time to take their ease; Save I, alas! whom care of force doth so constrain, To wail the day, and wake the night, continually in pain, From pensiveness to plaint, from plaint to bitter tears, From tears to painful plaint again; and thus my life it wears."[296] That which brings joy to others brings him grief: "The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill, and eke the vale. The nightingale with feathers new she sings; The turtle to her mate hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs; The hart has hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes flete with new repaired scale; The adder all her slough away she slings; The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale; The busy bee her honey now she mings; Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale. And thus I see among these pleasant things Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs!"[297] For all that, he will love on to his last sigh: "Yea, rather die a thousand times, than once to false my faith; And if my feeble corpse, through weight of woful smart Do fail, or faint, my will it is that still she keep my heart. And when this carcass here to earth shall be refar'd, I do bequeath my wearied ghost to serve her afterward."[298] An infinite love, and pure as Petrarch's; and she is worthy of it. In the midst of all these studied or imitated verses, an admirable portrait stands out, the simplest and truest we can imagine, a work of the heart now, and not of the memory, which behind the Madonna of chivalry shows the English wife, and beyond feudal gallantry domestic bliss. Surrey alone, restless, hears within him the firm tones of a good friend, a sincere counsellor, Hope, who speaks to him thus: