V. If what is heavy craves the Centre base

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

IF what is heavy craves the Centre base;

The earth below, as Nature wills the same:

Heavy the woeful griefs are, in this case,

Which inward in my heart I do sustain.

And if what ’s light, by kind, aloft doth mount:

Then light ’s my love with thee, of light account.

So that in doubtful dangerous extreme,

Wretch that I am! myself am sore afraid:

And doubt of thee, so far from Golden Mean;

Nor know I well out of this depth to wade.

Lest that my life be shortened, or I die;

Whether it heavy, falls; or light, ascends on high.