For the Earl of Essex

O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse
O how much do I love your solitarinesse.

From fames desire from loves delight retir`d
In these sad groves an Hermits life I led
And those flase pleasures which once I admir`d
With sad remembrance of my fall I dread.
To birds to trees to earth impart I this
For shee less secret and as senceless is.
O sweet woods etc.
O how much etc.

Experience which repentance only brings
Doth bid mee now my hart from love estrange
Love is disdained when it doth looke at Kings
And love loe placed base and apt to change
The power doth take from him his liberty
His want of worth makes him in cradell die.
O sweet woods etc.
O how much etc.

You men that give false worship unto Love
And seke that which you never shall obtaine
The endlesse worke of Sisisphus you procure
Whose end is this to know you strive in vaine
Hope and desire which now your Idols bee
You needs must loose and feele dispaire with mee.
O sweet woods etc.
O how much etc.

You woods in you the fairest Nimphs have walked
Nimphs at whose sight all harts did yeeld to Love.
You woods in whom deere lovers oft have talked
How doe you now a place of mourning prove
Wansted my Mistres saith this is the doome
Thou art loves Childbed Nursery and Tombe.
O sweet woods etc.
O how much etc.