Lady Mary Wroth

[Fie tedious Hope, why doe you still rebell?]

Fie tedious Hope, why doe you still rebell?
    Is it not yet enough you flatter’d me,
    But cunningly you seeke to use a Spell
    How to betray; must these your Trophees bee?
 
I look’d from you farre sweeter fruite to see,
    But blasted were your blossomes when they fell:
    And those delights expected from hands free,
    Wither’d and dead, and what seemd blisse proves hell.
 
No Towne was won by a more plotted slight,
    Then I by you, who may my fortune write,
    In embers of that fire which ruin’d me:
 
Thus Hope your falshood calls you to be tryde,
    You’r loth, I see, the tryall to abide;
    Prove true at last, and gaine your liberty.
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