The poem
O might those sighs and tears return again Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent, That I might in this holy discontent Mourn with some fruit, as I have mourned in vain; In mine Idolatry what showers of rain Mine eyes did waste! what griefs my heart did rent! That sufferance was my sin; now I repent; 'Cause I did suffer I must suffer pain. Th' hydropic drunkard, and night-scouting thief, The itchy lecher, and self-tickling proud Have the remembrance of past joys for relief Of comming ills. To (poor) me is allowed No ease; for long, yet vehement grief hath been Th' effect and cause, the punishment and sin.