Ya harto. el descanso de la muerte
Pediría, viendo al mérito mendigo,
Y lo nulo e indigno engalanado,
Y la pura confianza defraudada,
Y la honra adjudicada erróneamente,
Y la casta virtud prostituida,
Y lo digno y perfecto envilecido,
Y la fuerza vejada por deformes,
Y el arte injustamente amordazado,
Y al necio doctoral juez del talento,
Y la simple verdad vuelta simpleza,
Y el bien del prepotente mal cautivo.
Ya harto de pesares, partiría,
Mas si muero a mi amor dejaré sólo.

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
And simple truth miscalled simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.