Sonnet 50

　　How heavy do I journey on the way，

　　When what I seek — my weary travel's end

　　Doth teach that ease and that repose to say

　　'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend.'

　　The beast that bears me，tired with my woe，

　　Plods dully on to bear that weight in me，

　　As if by some instinct the wretch did know

　　His rider loved not speed，being made from thee.

　　The bloody spur cannot provoke him on

　　That sometimes anger th