I might!--unhappy word--O me, I might,
 And then would not, or could not, see my bliss;
 Till now wrapt in a most infernal night,
 I find how heav'nly day, wretch! I did miss.
 Heart, rend thyself, thou dost thyself but right;
 No lovely Paris made thy Helen his,
 No force, no fraud robb'd thee of thy delight,
 Nor Fortune of thy fortune author is;
 But to myself myself did give the blow,
 While too much wit, forsooth, so troubled me
 That I respects for both our sakes must show:
 And yet could not by rising morn foresee
 How fair a day was near: O punish'd eyes,
 That I had been more foolish,--or more wise!