The days are now come to their shortest date; And must, in time, by course, increase again. But only I continue at one state, Void of all hope of help, or ease of pain; For days of joy must still be short with me, And nights of sorrow must prolongèd be. XLV. Sleep now, my Muse! and henceforth take thy rest! Which all too long thyself in vain hath wasted. Let it suffice I still must live opprest; And of my pains, the fruit must ne'er be tasted. Then sleep, my Muse! "Fate cannot be withstood." "It's better sleep; than wake, and do no good." XLVI. Why should I love, since She doth prove ungrateful: Since, for reward, I reap nought but disdain. Love thus to be requited, it is hateful! And Reason would, I should not love in vain. Yet all in vain, when all is out of season, For "Love hath no society with Reason." XLVII. Heart's Ease and I have been at odds, too long! I follow fast, but still he flies from me! I sue for grace, and yet sustain the wrong; So gladly would I reconcilèd be. LOVE! make us one! So shalt thou work a wonder; Uniting them, that were so far asunder. XLVIII. "Uncouth, unkist," our ancient Poet[10] said. And he that hides his wants, when he hath need, May, after, have his want of wit bewrayed; And fail of his desire, when others speed. Then boldly speak! "The worst is at first entering!" "Much good success men miss, for lack of venturing!" XLIX. Declare the griefs wherewith thou art opprest, And let the world be witness of thy woes! Let not thy thoughts lie buried in thy breast; But let thy tongue, thy discontents disclose! For "who conceals his pain when he is grieved, May well be pitied, but no way relieved." L. [Sidenote: _Ne amor ne signoria vuole compagnia._] Wretched is he that loving, sets his heart On her, whose love, from pure affection swerveth; Who doth permit each one to have a part Of that, which none but he alone deserveth. Give all, or none! For once, of this be sure! "Lordship and Love no partners may endure." LI. Who spends the weary day in pensive thought, And night in dreams of horror and affright; Whose wealth is want; whose hope is come to nought; Himself, the mark for Love's and Fortune's spite: Let him appear, if any such there be! His case and mine more fitly will agree. LII. Fair tree, but fruitless! sometimes full of sap! Which now yields nought at all, that may delight me! Some cruel frost, or some untimely hap Hath made thee barren, only to despite me! Such trees, in vain, with hope do feed Desire; And serve for fuel to increase Love's fire. LIII.