What euer be the cause, it sure beseemes you ill.
Faire Sir, (said she halfe in disdainefull wise,) xxxviii
How is it, that this mood[745] in me ye blame,
And in your selfe do not the same aduise?
Him ill beseemes, anothers fault to name,
That may vnwares be blotted with the same:
Pensiue I yeeld I am, and sad in mind,
Through great desire of glory and of fame;
Ne ought I weene are ye therein behind,
That haue twelue moneths[746] sought one, yet no where can her find.