Pace Non Trovo, E Non Ho Da Far Guerra. Love'S Inconsistency. I Fynde No Peace And All My Warre Is Done, I Feare And Hope, I Bourne And Freese Lyke Yse; I Flye Above The Wynde, Yet Cannot Ryse; And Nought I Have, Yet All The Worlde I Season, That Looseth, Nor Lacketh, Holdes Me In Pryson, And Holdes Me Not, Yet Can I Escape No Wyse. Nor Lets Me Leeve, Nor Die At My Devyce, And Yet Of Death It Giveth None Occasion. Without Eye I See, And Without Tongue I Playne; I Desyre To Perishe, Yet Aske I Health; I Love Another, And Yet I Hate My Self; I Feede In Sorrow And Laughe In All My Payne, Lykewyse Pleaseth Me Both Death And Lyf, And My Delight Is Cawser Of My Greif. Wyatt.[S] [Footnote S: Harrington'S Nug' Antiqu'.] Warfare I Cannot Wage, Yet Know Not Peace; I Fear, I Hope, I Burn, I Freeze Again; Mount To The Skies, Then Bow To Earth My Face; Grasp The Whole World, Yet Nothing Can Obtain. His Prisoner Love Nor Frees, Nor Will Detain; In Toils He Holds Me Not, Nor Will Release; He Slays Me Not, Nor Yet Will He Unchain; Nor Joy Allows, Nor Lets My Sorrow Cease. Sightless I See My Fair; Though Mute, I Mourn; I Scorn Existence, And Yet Court Its Stay; Detest Myself, And For Another Burn; By Grief I'm Nurtured; And, Though Tearful, Gay; Death I Despise, And Life Alike I Hate: Such, Lady, Dost Thou Make My Wayward State! Nott.