"For I assure thee, even by oath, And thereon take my hand and troth, That she is one of the worthiest, The truest, and the faithfullest; The gentlest and the meekest of mind That here on earth a man may find: And if that love and truth were gone, In her it might be found alone. For in her mind no thought there is, But how she may be true, I wis; And tenders thee and all thy heale, And wishes both thy health and weal; And loves thee even as far forth than As any woman may a man; And is thine own, and so she says; And cares for thee ten thousand ways. Of thee she speaks, on thee she thinks; With thee she eats, with thee she drinks; With thee she talks, with thee she moans; With thee she sighs, with thee she groans; With thee she says 'Farewell mine own!' When thou, God knows, full far art gone. And even, to tell thee all aright, To thee she says full oft 'Good night!' And names thee oft her own most dear, Her comfort, weal, and all her cheer; And tells her pillow all the tale How thou hast done her woe and bale; And how she longs, and plains for thee, And says, 'Why art thou so from me?' Am I not she that loves thee best! Do I not wish thine ease and rest? Seek I not how I may thee please? Why art thou then so from thine ease? If I be she for whom thou carest, For whom in torments so thou farest, Alas! thou knowest to find me here, Where I remain thine own most dear. Thine own most true, thine own most just, Thine own that loves thee still, and must; Thine own that cares alone for thee, As thou, I think, dost care for me; And even the woman, she alone, That is full bent to be thine own."[299] Certainly it is of his wife[300] that he is thinking here, not of an imaginary Laura. The poetic dream of Petrarch has become the exact picture of deep and perfect conjugal affection, such as yet survives in England; such as all the poets, from the authoress of the "Nutbrown Maid" to Dickens,[301] have never failed to represent. SECTION III.--Surrey's Style