These bloody days have broken my heart: My lust,my youth did them depart. For your wit alone,many men would bemoan. And since it is so, many still cry loud. It is a great loss that you are dead and gone. The time you had about above your poor degree. The fall whereof your friends may well bemoan. A rotten twig upon so high a tree has slipped your hold, and you are dead. And gone. These bloody days have broken my heart. My lust. My youth did them depart, and blind desire of ambitious souls. Who hastes to climb seeks to revert: And about the throne the thunder rolls.
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