Sonnet VIII. Grief-urging Guest! great cause have I to plain me

Bartholomew Griffin (d. 1602)

GRIEF-URGING Guest! great cause have I to plain me,

Yet hope persuading hope expecteth grace,

And saith, “None but myself shall ever pain me!”

But grief, my hopes exceedeth, in this case.

For still my fortune ever more doth cross me,

By worse events than ever I expected;

And, here and there, ten thousand ways doth toss me,

With sad remembrance of my time neglected.

These breed such thoughts as set my heart on fire,

And like fell hounds, pursue me to my death.

Traitors unto their sovereign Lord and Sire,

Unkind exactors of their father’s breath.

Whom, in their rage, they shall no sooner kill

Than they themselves, themselves unjustly spill!