Madrigal: My Thoughts Hold Mortal Strife

My thoughts hold mortal strife,I do detest my life,And with lamenting cries,Peace to my soul to bring,Oft calls that prince which here doth monarchize;But he, grim-grinning king,Who caitiffs scorns and doth the blest surprise, Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.