Farewell, quote she, and come again tomorrow, fare well I could not, for I supped with sorrow. Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, in scorn or friendship, nil I construe whether, t may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, t may be, again to make me wander thither, wander, a word for shadows like myself, as take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf. Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east! my heart both charge the watch; the morning rise, both cite each moving sense from idle rest. Not daring trust the office of mine eyes, while Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark, and wish her lays were tuned like the lark, for she both welcome daylight with her ditty, and drives away dark dismal-dreaming night, the night so packed, I post unto my pretty, heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight, sorrow changed to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow, for why, she sighed and bade me come tomorrow. Were I with her, the night would post too soon,