Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
The Tears of FancieSonnet XXXV. Amongst the Idle toyes that tosse my brayne
Thomas Watson (1555–1592)A
And reaue my troubled mynd from quiet rest:
Vyle cruell loue I find doth still remayne,
To breede debate within my grieued brest.
VVhen weary woe doth worke to wound my will,
And hart surchargd with sorrow liues opressed:
My sowlen eyes then cannot wayle there fill,
Sorrow is so far spent and I distressed.
My toung hath not the cunning skill to tell,
The smallest greife that gripes my throbbing hart:
Myne eies haue not the secret power to swell,
Into such hugie seas of wounding smart.
That will might melt to waues of bitter woe,
And I might swelt or drowne in sorrowes so.