I rise and grieve, 
    I walk and see my sorrow,
I eat, I live 
    Perchance not till tomorrow. 
I lay me down to rest and then again
I rise, I walk, I feed and lie in pain.
Mend thou my state 
    O Jove, I thee implore,
Or end by fate 
    What thou hast made before. 

If I but close 
    The covers of my sight,
Then slumb'ring woes 
    With dreams my sleeps affright; 
And if awake I seek to ease my mind, 
Some new-bred cares my troubled thoughts do find.
    Mend thou my state 
O Jove, I thee implore,
    Or end by fate 
What thou hast made before. 

Or if it be 
    Thy will I should endure
What unto me 
    Is almost past recure, 
Give me but strength to undergo those pains
Which like a torrent run through all my veins;
Or mend my state 
    Which as my days do fade;
Or end by fate 
    What thou before hast made.