– Lady Mary Wroth (1587–1651)

Bee you all pleas'd, your pleasures grieve not me; 
     Doe you delight?  I envy not your joy: 
     Have you content?  contentment with you be; 
     Hope you for blisse?  hope still, and still enjoy. 

Let sad misfortune, haplesse me destroy, 
     Leave crosses to rule me, and still rule free: 
     While all delights their contraries imploy, 
     To keepe good backe, and I but torments see. 

Joyes are bereav'd me, harmes doe only tarry, 
     Despaire takes place, disdaine hath got the hand: 
     Yet firme love holds my senses in such band, 
     As (since despised) I with sorrow marry. 

Then if with griefe I now must coupled bee, 
Sorrow Ile wed; Despaire thus governes mee.