Global Utilities

Mary Wroth's Poetry: An Electronic Edition

Wroth Poem - F69 - Cruell ſuspition, O! bee now att rest

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F69 F69mod P66 P66mod

4.

Cruell ſuspition, O! bee now att rest
    lett dayly torments bring to thee ſome stay
    alas make nott my ill thy eaſe=full pray,
    nor giue looſe raines to rage when loue's oprest

I ame by care ſufficiently distrest
    noe rack can strech my hart more, nor a way
    can I find out for least content to lay,
    one happy foote of ioye, one step thats blest;

Butt to my end thou fly'st wt greedy eye,
    ſeeking to bring griefe by bace iealouſie,
    O in how strang a cage ame I kept in?

Noe little ſigne of fauor can I proue
    butt must bee way'de, and turnd to wronging loue,
    and wth each humor must my state begin;
Sonnet 4.

Cruel suspicion, O! be now at rest,
    Let daily torments bring to thee some stay
    Alas make not my ill thy easeful prey,
    Nor give loose reins to rage when love's oppressed.

I am by care sufficiently distressed,
    No rack can stretch my heart more, nor a way
    Can I find out for least content to lay
    One happy foot of joy, one step that's blessed;

But to my end thou fliest with greedy eye,
    Seeking to bring grief by base jealousy,
    O in how strange a cage am I kept in?

No little sign of favour can I prove
    But must be weighed, and turned to wronging love,
    And with each humour must my state begin.


Roberts [P66] notes a parallel image of the dungeon from AS104:

    Thence, so far thence, that scantly any spark
    Of comfort dare come to this dungeon dark,
    Where Rigour's exile locks up al my sense?
4.

Cruell Suſpition, O! be now at reſt,
    Let daily torments bring to thee ſome ſtay,
    Alas, make not my ill thy eaſe-full pray,
    Nor giue looſe raines to Rage, when Loue's oppreſt.

I am by care ſufficiently diſtreſt,
    No Racke can ſtretch my heart more, nor a way
    Can I finde out, for leaſt content to lay
    One happy foot of ioy, one ſtep that's bleſt.

But to my end thou fly'ſt with greedy eye,
    Seeking to bring griefe by baſe Iealouſie;
    O, in how ſtrange a Cage am I kept in?

No little ſigne of fauour can I prooue,
    But muſt be way'd, and turn'd to wronging loue,
    And with each humour muſt my ſtate begin.
Sonnet 4.

Cruel suspicion, O! be now at rest,
    Let daily torments bring to thee some stay,
    Alas make not my ill thy easeful prey,
    Nor give loose reins to rage when love's oppressed.

I am by care sufficiently distressed
    No rack can stretch my heart more, nor a way
    Can I find out for least content to lay,
    One happy foot of joy, one step that's blessed;

But to my end thou flyest with greedy eye,
    Seeking to bring grief by base jealousy,
    O in how strange a cage am I kept in?

No little sign of favour can I prove
    But must be weighed, and turned to wronging love,
    And with each humour must my state begin.



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